Mystique frowned the moment Richard finished speaking. She had never met him before today, though she had once dealt with the father who originally owned this body. In her experience, young men with power were predictable. They were impulsive, prideful, and far too easy to manipulate—especially when faced with the right kind of temptation.
The image she wore now was not chosen casually. It was a carefully crafted composite, blending the most attractive features of several A-list Hollywood actresses into one flawless face and body. That kind of beauty could turn heads in any room. It had worked on seasoned politicians, hardened businessmen, and battle-scarred mercenaries. Seducing someone Richard's age should have been effortless.
Yet when she studied his eyes, she saw nothing.
A man's interest was always visible in his gaze, no matter how disciplined he tried to appear. Desire betrayed itself in subtle ways—pupil dilation, micro-expressions, the faintest change in breathing. Richard's expression, however, was steady and indifferent. There was no flicker of attraction, no trace of hunger.
An unexpected thought crossed her mind.
Could he prefer men?
In the United States, that possibility wasn't unusual. Same-sex relationships were legal, socially visible, and increasingly normalized. The idea wasn't absurd. As it surfaced, her evaluation of him shifted slightly.
She could transform into a man just as easily as into a woman, but that didn't mean she wanted to. Shape-shifting altered her appearance, not her orientation. Seducing men while appearing as a beautiful woman was something she understood instinctively. Transforming into a man to seduce another man was different, and it unsettled her in ways she preferred not to examine.
On the other hand, becoming a beautiful woman to seduce another beautiful woman was something she could accept. That scenario at least felt natural within her own boundaries.
After observing him for several seconds longer, she abandoned the flirtation angle and shifted to business.
"Eric asked me to come," she said evenly. "He wants to know if you're interested in joining the Brotherhood of Mutants. And he told me to make something else clear."
She paused deliberately.
"If you join, he'll help you reclaim the Wesley family property—with interest."
Richard smiled faintly and shook his head.
"I'm not joining any mutant organization right now," he said calmly. "Not the Brotherhood. Not the X-Men. And I don't need anyone's help getting back what was taken."
His gaze held steady confidence.
"I'll take back what's mine myself."
Mystique studied him carefully. She could sense he wasn't bluffing. The boy sitting in front of her had already slaughtered an entire branch of the Mutant Affairs Department alone. That wasn't reckless bravado. That was capability.
Still, she didn't let him drift too far into arrogance.
"You're stronger than most," she admitted. "You wiped out the Los Angeles branch by yourself. But that branch is only one of dozens. Being able to handle them doesn't mean you can handle the entire department."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"And you should know the X-Men won't ignore this. They arrived in Los Angeles last night. They're already searching for you."
She wasn't surprised he hadn't agreed immediately. In fact, if he had accepted without hesitation, she would have suspected something was wrong. Young mutants with significant power almost always carried a certain pride.
John Allardyce was a recent example. At Xavier's school, he had only been rebellious. After joining the Brotherhood, that rebellion had evolved into superiority. He no longer simply resisted humans; he considered them inferior. He had even rebranded himself, adding "Saint" before his name as if it were a declaration of destiny.
Richard's refusal felt more grounded.
"I'm not arrogant enough to think I can fight the Mutant Affairs Department head-on yet," he replied. "But I'm still not joining. Not now."
He gave her a small nod.
"Tell Magneto I appreciate the offer."
What he didn't say was equally important. Joining would mean accepting Magneto's protection—and owing him. Richard had no interest in accumulating debts. More than that, he knew something Magneto apparently didn't.
Magneto had children.
Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff. Polaris, Lorna Dane.
As far as Richard knew, neither of them was currently with the Brotherhood. If they were, he might have considered things differently. But this universe diverged in unpredictable ways from the cinematic timelines he once knew. His so-called advantage of foresight was unreliable here.
Mystique exhaled softly when she saw the resolve in his expression.
"I've delivered the message," she said. "If you're not interested, that's where it ends."
She stood and motioned for the three mutants with her to follow. They turned toward the exit, but after a few steps, she stopped.
Then she turned back.
With deliberate slowness, she leaned forward slightly, letting the neckline of her outfit reveal an exaggerated view of cleavage—an intentional display of both temptation and challenge.
"I'm staying in Los Angeles until tomorrow," she said, her tone dropping into something silkier. "If you change your mind… or if you get bored tonight, you can come find me."
She produced a hotel business card and extended it toward him.
Richard didn't reach for it.
"There's no need," he replied evenly. "I'm not interested in… women much older than me."
He had nearly said "old women," but adjusted the phrasing at the last second.
Even so, the effect was immediate.
The warmth vanished from Mystique's face. Age was a sensitive subject for most women, and despite her mutations and longevity, she was no exception.
"You—" she began.
Then she stopped herself. The difference in power between them was obvious. Starting a confrontation in a public restaurant would accomplish nothing.
She shot him a cold glare, then turned and walked out with the other three mutants.
After they left, Richard finished settling the bill and exited as well. He moved away from crowded areas and searched for a quiet location where he could train. His goal was clear: raise all current abilities to level three as quickly as possible.
However, before he could begin, a sharp warning flared from his mind isolation ability.
Someone was locking onto him with telepathy.
Several names surfaced instantly.
Professor X.
Phoenix.
The White Queen of the Hellfire Club.
There were other telepaths in the world, but in this era, those were the most prominent. Mind isolation could shield him to a degree, but it couldn't trace the source of the intrusion.
Without hesitation, he activated Flash.
Then again.
And again.
He didn't simply relocate once. He moved repeatedly, shifting his position in rapid succession. Telepathy wasn't spatial movement, but displacing himself unpredictably made it harder for a psychic to maintain a precise lock.
Within minutes, he appeared in a forest dozens of kilometers outside Los Angeles. Trees surrounded him in dense silence.
For a brief moment, the mental pressure faded.
Then it returned.
Locked again.
A flicker of irritation crossed his expression.
Persistent, aren't you.
If not for mind isolation, he wouldn't even know someone was probing him. Worse, a powerful telepath could potentially read his memories or manipulate his subconscious without his awareness.
He despised that vulnerability.
Being locked by telepathy felt invasive. It felt like someone rifling through private files he never intended to share.
After a few seconds of consideration, he stopped flashing.
Instead, he walked to a large rock, sat down, and calmly withdrew his blade from system space. The metal gleamed as he began wiping it with steady, deliberate motions.
If they insisted on tracking him, they could come in person.
Time passed quietly. The forest remained still, broken only by the distant sound of wind through branches.
Less than ten minutes later, a sleek black aircraft cut through the sky and descended into view. Its design was unmistakably advanced, angular and smooth, radiating the aesthetics of high-end sci-fi engineering.
The Blackbird.
The moment he saw it, he understood who had been locking onto him.
The host of the Phoenix Force.
Jean Grey.
.....
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