As an illegal mutant who had been on the Mutant Affairs Department's radar for years, Sabretooth didn't survive by luck alone. He maintained multiple safe houses across the United States, rotating between them regularly. He and Clarice never stayed in one city too long, never built predictable patterns, never gave the department time to triangulate their habits.
It was inconvenient. It was exhausting. But it worked.
Until recently.
"There's not much food left," Clarice said after checking the refrigerator. "I'll go to the supermarket."
Sabretooth's expression tightened immediately. "They know you're my adopted daughter now. Your identity as a mutant is exposed. Going out alone is dangerous."
As he said that, his eyes shifted toward Richard, displeasure obvious.
Back at the restaurant, Sabretooth had assumed Inesa and her team were there for him. It turned out they had been targeting Richard instead. If Richard hadn't been present, Sabretooth and Clarice might never have been discovered, let alone arrested.
Richard had rescued them.
But the root cause still traced back to him.
Richard ignored the glare. Sabretooth wasn't wrong about the risk, though.
"I'll go with her," Richard said calmly.
Both Sabretooth and Clarice frowned at the same time.
"Problem?" Richard asked.
Sabretooth gave him a long look. "You haven't checked the news lately, have you?"
"No."
Sabretooth walked over and switched on the television, flipping to a news channel. Within seconds, Richard's face appeared on screen.
Class A Wanted.
His image rotated alongside a scrolling alert describing him as a highly dangerous illegal mutant responsible for the deaths of multiple department agents.
Richard watched silently, brow tightening slightly.
Really?
Three agents and they escalate it like this?
He didn't bother correcting the number in his head. The department had no idea that Aiden's group had already pushed his total to fifteen.
He had fully digested the body's original memories by now. Mutant warrants in the United States were ranked from S down to D. S, A, B, C, D.
Currently, only one illegal mutant held an S-class designation—Magneto.
He turned off the sound and glanced at Sabretooth.
"What level are you?"
"Class B," Sabretooth replied, clearly annoyed.
Technically, a higher wanted level meant more resources dedicated to capture. But among illegal mutants who opposed the Mutant Restriction Act, a wanted notice was closer to a badge of honor.
Some even chased notoriety on purpose.
Attacking department offices. Ambushing agents. Targeting government facilities. Causing chaos in major downtown areas to spike media exposure. Reckless, yes. But for mutants desperate to be seen, escalation was currency.
If they had the strength, some would even consider attacking symbols like the White House or the Pentagon just to climb the ranking ladder.
Richard shrugged.
"It's just Class A. If the department's wanted list actually worked efficiently, every name on it would already be in custody."
He reached into the system space and pulled out a peaked cap and a pair of sunglasses.
Sabretooth and Clarice watched in silence as he put them on.
"There," Richard said. "Now most people won't recognize me."
Sabretooth stared at him flatly. Clarice blinked.
"You're joking," Sabretooth said.
Richard adjusted the brim of the cap. "Most civilians don't care. If it's not directly affecting them, they tune it out. Yes, this is a basic disguise. But I'm confident."
He brushed a strand of silver hair behind his ear.
"For one thing, my hair is longer than in the warrant photo."
They both looked more closely.
He was right.
Three days ago, his hair had been shorter. Now it nearly brushed his shoulders.
"Side effect of awakening abilities?" Clarice asked quietly.
"Something like that."
Lower-tier mutants often developed visible physical traits. The lowest—Epsilon—could appear almost monstrous. Clarice wasn't Epsilon, but her long magenta hair and green eyes were unmistakable markers. Without them, she would look entirely ordinary.
"Enough wasting time," Richard said. "Let's go."
Clarice raised her hand and released a pulse of violet energy. A portal opened, leading to an alley near the supermarket. Even though they hadn't lived in Los Angeles long, she knew the surrounding area well.
Before she stepped through, Richard retrieved another cap and sunglasses and handed them to her.
She accepted without argument and put them on.
They passed through the portal together.
The supermarket was only a short walk away. Inside, fluorescent lighting buzzed faintly overhead. Weekend shoppers pushed carts lazily through the aisles. No one paid them particular attention.
They moved efficiently, gathering essentials—meat, vegetables, bottled water, basic supplies. Richard kept his head slightly lowered but didn't overact.
As expected, no alarms triggered. No whispers spread. The wanted face on television didn't translate into recognition in real life.
In fact, something else happened instead.
While Richard pushed the cart beside Clarice, several young women approached him. Shorts, crop tops, confident smiles. They struck up casual conversation, commenting on his hair, asking if he was in a band, lingering longer than necessary.
They were attractive. Confident. Their figures were more mature and curved than Clarice's slender frame.
Richard declined politely.
He wasn't interested.
Distraction slowed reaction speed. Emotional entanglement created variables. At this stage, both were liabilities.
Even Clarice, whose appearance aligned more closely with his preferences, remained outside his priorities. He had objectives to complete, power ceilings to break, and a three-day countdown ticking in the back of his mind.
He finished loading the cart and guided it toward checkout, ignoring the curious glances trailing behind him.
.....
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