Woo~~woo~~
A sharp whistle cut through the air. Lights flared on in the distance, and a cruiser moved in to block the yacht's path. The captain's voice boomed over the loudspeaker.
"This is the Coast Guard. Do not move your vessel. Stay where you are!"
Several speedboats followed, carrying heavily armed special forces soldiers. They advanced with grim expressions, clearly expecting to confront terrorists.
They had no idea they were facing something far more dangerous—a group of powerful mutants.
Shaw smiled faintly. He hadn't expected the military to dare interfere. It seemed his previous display of force hadn't been enough.
"Now this should be interesting, friends," he said, a hint of amusement curling at his lips.
"Charles is here…"
Renzo, familiar with how events would unfold, knew Charles was about to meet the man who would become his lifelong friend. Their bond would last for decades.
But first, they had to leave.
Shaw himself didn't fear missile strikes, but the others did. Riptide raised his hands, snapping the ship's restraints and unleashing a violent surge of power. The speedboats flipped over instantly, tossing the soldiers into the water and neutralizing them with ease.
"Let's go!" Shaw ordered, leading Renzo and the others into the submarine before it submerged and sped away.
Eric rose slowly from the water, drawing in a deep breath. Slung over his shoulder was an unconscious boy—Pietro, who had arrived in this world alongside Renzo.
"Damn it!" Eric shouted at the retreating submarine. He thrust out his hand, attempting to seize it with his magnetic power and drag it back.
But he failed.
Compared to the man he would become, Eric was still inexperienced. His power was formidable, but driven by raw anger—unrefined, unstable. Rage alone wasn't enough. No one waits for their opponent to reach their peak before striking.
"AAARGH!"
His effort collapsed. Instead of stopping the submarine, he lost control and sank beneath the waves, Pietro still in his grasp.
Darkness. Silence. Endless pressure.
These were the last sensations Eric perceived before his consciousness slipped away…
No—there was something else.
A figure.
"Gah!" Eric jolted upright in a hospital bed, gasping for air. His mind flooded with fragmented memories—experiments, torture, cold instruments piercing his body. The pain lingered like jagged metal driven into his thoughts, leaving behind a bitter, rusted taste.
"Enough!"
With a furious roar, he lashed out. Metal instruments around the room rattled violently, tearing free and crashing into walls, turning the space into chaos.
"Eric, calm down."
The voice came from inside his head.
Startled, Eric froze. His eyes darted around the room. "White Queen? No… that's a man's voice."
"It's me, Eric."
A refined figure appeared in the doorway—Charles.
Knock, knock, knock.
"May I come in?" Charles asked gently.
His pale blue eyes carried a calm depth, like the surface of a vast ocean—steady, inviting. Eric felt an unfamiliar sense of ease, something he had never experienced before.
"Damn it… another telepath," Eric muttered.
True to the man he would become, Eric's will was ironclad. Within seconds, he grasped the situation.
"You're inside my head!" he snapped, raising his hand. The screws fastening a nearby table ripped free and shot toward Charles's throat.
Unaware that Charles had already intervened to prevent harm, Eric believed he was being manipulated—his memories invaded without permission. To him, this was just another attempt to control him.
Something he would never allow.
He would not expose his weakness. He was no obedient animal to be pacified with scraps.
The screws hurtled forward—
—and suddenly, time seemed to slow.
Pietro slipped into the room, moving with effortless speed. Taking in the tense standoff, he shrugged, casually plucking the flying screws out of the air.
Eric's eyes widened. In a blink, there was another person in the room—and his attack had been completely neutralized.
"Hi," Pietro said lightly.
He turned to Charles. "You know, you could just lock him in a plastic room. No metal, no powers. Problem solved."
Charles only smiled, ignoring the suggestion.
"Hmph." Pietro leaned against the doorframe, rolling his eyes. His gaze drifted back to Eric. There was something oddly familiar about him, though he couldn't place it.
"Charles Xavier," Charles introduced himself with a polite smile.
"Pietro. Avenger," Pietro replied, grabbing an orange from the table, peeling it, and stuffing a segment into his mouth.
"Ugh—too sour!" he spat immediately, grimacing. "Do all you mutants have terrible taste in fruit or something?"
"You people…" Eric watched as the silver-haired boy rapidly cleared the rest of the fruit, eating so fast it was almost impossible to follow.
"Aren't you a mutant too? Super speed?" Eric asked.
"No. He's a visitor from another world," Charles answered calmly. He glanced at Pietro. "I pulled him out of the water with you—and I may have looked into parts of your past."
He quickly added, "Not to invade your privacy. I only needed to be sure you weren't a threat."
"My sister can do that too," Pietro said around another bite. "She wears a red coat. Total opposite of me. I used to protect her… now she's stronger than I am."
"Another world…" Eric repeated, struggling with the concept. His understanding of the world was limited—his life had been shaped by confinement and survival, not abstract ideas about the universe.
"Yeah," Pietro said, nodding before changing the subject abruptly. "Have you seen a guy with a face like a monkey's backside? Wears a cape. Looks kind of weak."
Eric frowned, then recalled the strange man who had crashed onto the deck earlier—completely unharmed—followed by someone else plunging into the sea.
"I saw him. He fell onto the deck… disrupted my attempt to assassinate Shaw."
"Sebastian Shaw?" Charles asked, frowning.
"Yes. He was with Shaw—that bastard."
Eric's voice burned with anger, completely unaware that his plan would have failed regardless.
"Watch your mouth," Pietro said, smacking Eric's thigh with irritation.
Charles stepped in before things escalated. "The priority now is finding Shaw. His ideology—that mutants are superior—will only lead to disaster. We need to contact the CIA and cooperate with them. It's the only way we can hope to stop him."
Eric's expression darkened, skepticism and disdain flickering in his eyes at Charles's idealism.
But for now, he had little choice.
Reluctantly, he agreed to work with Charles—and together, they would go to the CIA.
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