Chapter 68: New Blood in New York: The Flyers, The Screamers, The Exploders, and a Blue-Haired Monster
Before the morning sun could climb over the base walls, Moira's jeep crunched over the gravel and roared into the yard.
Rorschach had just emerged from the storage room, half a compressed biscuit still in his mouth, when he saw Charleswaving at the door, his expression like he'd won the lottery—no, like he'd won the lottery only to find out the ticket was picked up by a Mutant.
"Pack your things, we leave in an hour." Charles's voice contained an irrepressible excitement. "The CIA has approved a new base for us, in New York."
Raven peeked out from behind Rorschach, her blue scales shimmering faintly in the morning light: "New York? The New York with Broadway and Central Park?"
"And Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, and the highest density of bars in the world." Rorschach shoved the last bite of biscuit into his mouth. "Go, we must go."
Eric walked over from the other end of the corridor, gave them a cold glance, and walked out with a worn suitcase.
Raven whispered: "He didn't sleep well again last night? His dark circles are bluer than my skin."
"There are only two reasons why a man suffers from insomnia." Rorschach put an arm around her shoulder and lowered his voice. "Either he's thinking about women, or he's thinking about killing. Eric belongs to the latter."
Raven couldn't help but laugh, raising her hand to punch him lightly.
Two hours later, a military transport plane carried this group of strangely shaped young people, flying northeast.
Inside the cabin, Darwin leaned against the bulkhead, catching up on sleep, while Sea Witch Xien listened to music with headphones on—heaven knows if he was using his sonic abilities to eavesdrop on everyone's heartbeats.
Alex stared out the window in a daze, his fingers unconsciously tapping his knees, occasionally emitting a spark of red energy, scaring Tom next to him into moving closer to Rorschach.
Charles sat at the front, a stack of documents spread on his lap, with Hank leaning over, pointing and discussing some incomprehensible things like "Cerebral Wave Enhancer."
Rorschach closed his eyes, feigning sleep, but his mental power quietly spread out, enveloping the entire cabin.
Raven leaned on his shoulder, her breathing steady, her blue skin glowing softly in the sunlight filtering through the porthole.
Tom was playing with light orbs, already able to shape them into little birds.
Eric sat alone in the corner, his magnetic field subtly vibrating, causing the metal rivets around him to resonate.
Rorschach opened his eyes and looked in Charles's direction.
Cerebral Wave Enhancer? Is he going to build Cerebro?
His lips curved slightly. Good stuff, it'll be useful later.
The plane landed at a small airport on the outskirts of New York. Several black cars had been waiting for a long time, carrying them through half the city, finally stopping in front of a huge iron gate.
A simple sign hung above the gate, with a few large, plain characters—
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Rorschach looked at the sign and almost burst out laughing.
Charles stood beside him, his tone filled with pride: "From now on, this will be our base. It's big enough for everyone to train and live."
"School for Gifted Youngsters." Rorschach repeated, turning to look at him. "Are you sure it's not 'Concentration Camp for Gifted Freaks'?"
Charles raised an eyebrow: "Do you think there's a problem with the name?"
"No problem with the name." Rorschach patted his shoulder. "I'm just curious, how do you plan to explain to the neighbors why your kids can fly, breathe fire, and turn their bodies into diamonds?"
Charles choked.
Eric spoke coldly from the side: "No need to explain. They'll find out eventually."
The atmosphere paused slightly.
Rorschach smiled, not responding.
Passing through the iron gate, the sight before them stunned everyone.
It was a huge Victorian building, its grey-white stone walls covered in ivy, and its spires gleaming in the sunlight.
The lawn was neatly trimmed, and a statue of an angel stood in the fountain—Rorschach stared at the statue for three seconds, thinking that Angel Salvador might feel offended if she passed by here later.
"My goodness." Raven let go of Rorschach's arm and spun around. "Is this a school or a palace?"
"It used to be the Xavier family estate." Charles smiled. "My father left it to me."
Darwin whistled: "A rich second-generation, huh."
Alex nudged him: "Keep it down."
Charles heard him, his smile unchanged: "It's alright, I am. And I'm happy to use this wealth for the right cause."
Eric didn't speak, just stared at the house, his eyes complex.
Rorschach walked over to him, following his gaze: "What are you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking about the house I lived in when I was a child." Eric's voice was low. "It was made of wood, drafty in winter, leaky in summer. Then it burned down."
Rorschach was silent for two seconds, then patted his shoulder: "This one won't burn. I promise."
Eric turned to look at him, his gaze scrutinizing: "You can promise that?"
"No." Rorschach shrugged. "But at least not while I'm here."
Eric stared at him for a few seconds, said nothing, and turned to walk towards the house.
Raven leaned in, lowering her voice: "When did you two get so close?"
"Not close." Rorschach put an arm around her waist. "Just occasionally exchanging life insights."
"What insights?"
"For example—" Rorschach looked down at her, smiling carelessly, "Good-looking people never have too bad luck."
Raven rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh.
The house was even more extravagant inside than it looked from the outside.
The marble floor reflected their figures, crystal chandeliers hung down like inverted stars, and the spiral staircase was wide enough for two cars to drive side-by-side. A group of people stood in the living room, and when they saw them enter, they all turned their heads in unison.
Leading them was a middle-aged man in a suit, with the standard CIA buzzcut and poker face.
"Mr. Charles Xavier?" He extended his hand. "I'm Agent McCone, responsible for the liaison work here."
Charles shook his hand: "Thank you for your hard work."
McCone nodded, then stepped aside to reveal a few people behind him: "These are the new recruits—or rather, your new companions."
Rorschach's gaze passed him and fell on those unfamiliar faces.
The first was a young man, in his early twenties, tall and thin, with a distinctly Irish face—freckles, red hair, and a somewhat goofy smile.
"Sean Cassidy." He extended his hand proactively. "Codename Banshee. I heard you guys also have someone who screams?"
Sea Witch Xien pointed to himself, then to the Banshee with headphones next to him: "Are our names clashing?"
Charles cleared his throat: "This is Sean Cassidy, whose ability is sonic manipulation. To avoid confusion, we'll call him Banshee. As for this one—" he pointed to the original Banshee, "we'll call him Sean."
The two Seans exchanged glances and both smiled.
"Alright." Sea Witch Xien—no, now he should be called Banshee—extended his hand. "Then I'll be Banshee, and you'll be Sean, clear division of labor."
Sean (the original Banshee) shook his hand: "Pleasure working with you."
Rorschach watched from the side, silently complaining: Just one name can cause such a commotion, what will happen when there are more people?
McCone continued to introduce the second person.
That was a boy even younger than Sean, in his early twenties, with blond hair and a hint of wildness in his eyes.
He stood with his hands in his pockets, chin slightly raised, his gaze sweeping over everyone, finally resting on Alexfor a moment.
"Alex Summers." He spoke, his voice lazy. "Codename Havok."
Alex was stunned: "You're also named Alex?"
"Yes." Ruin Alex raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong? You too?"
The two looked at each other, the atmosphere a bit subtle.
Darwin whispered from the side: "Another name clash? How are we going to call them later?"
"Simple." Rorschach said lazily. "One is Big Alex, the other is Little Alex."
Ruin Alex frowned: "I'm older than him."
"Then you're Old Alex, and he's Little Alex."
"..."
Raven covered her mouth, laughing.
Charles quickly intervened: "Alright, Alex Summers, we'll call you Alex. As for the other one—" he looked at the original Alex, "your codename is Havok, so we'll call you Havok normally, is that okay?"
Ruin Alex thought for a moment, then nodded: "Fine."
Alex (the original Havok) breathed a sigh of relief.
Rorschach watched with great interest from the side. They had just arrived, and the names were already a mess. What would happen later?
McCone continued to introduce the third person.
It was a girl, looking a few years younger than Raven, with short black hair, amber eyes, and pursed lips, looking a bit nervous. She wore a simple white shirt, with a bulging bag on her back—something was moving inside the bag.
"Salvador." She spoke, her voice a little soft. "Angel Salvador. Just call me Angel."
As soon as she finished speaking, there was a flutter from the bag behind her, and a pair of transparent wings emerged from the zipper gap, like two giant dragonfly wings, shimmering with colorful light in the sun.
Everyone's eyes widened.
Darwin blurted out: "Holy crap, a real angel?"
Angel Salvador's face flushed, and she fumbled to stuff her wings back into the bag: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, they sometimes don't listen to me—"
"No need to apologize." Rorschach said, his tone gentle. "They're quite beautiful."
Angel Salvador looked up at him, her eyes filled with surprise and a hint of shyness.
Raven glanced at Rorschach from the side, her gaze meaningful.
Rorschach remained expressionless.
McCone introduced the last person.
It was a bespectacled young man, taller than everyone else, with shoulders as broad as a football player, but an expression as refined as a librarian's.
He wore an ill-fitting white lab coat, clutched a pen in his hand, and looked at everyone with a scrutinizing gaze—not hostility, but the curiosity of a scientist seeing a new specimen.
"Hank McCoy." He extended his hand, shaking everyone's hand with just the right amount of force. "Just call me Hank. I'm the… well, technical consultant? Scientist? Basically, I fix things and build things."
Charles added from the side: "Hank is one of the smartest people I've ever met. In the future, the base's equipment, training gear, and even the development of Cerebro will all depend on him."
Hank pushed up his glasses, a little embarrassed: "It's not that exaggerated, I just like to tinker with things."
Rorschach stared at him for three seconds.
Beast Hank, one of the most intelligent Mutants, the core scientist of the future X-Men, a genius who can build a Cerebral Wave Enhancer with his bare hands.
This person, he needed to get on good terms with.
He extended his hand: "Rorschach. I'll come to you to fix equipment later."
Hank shook his hand, his eyes behind his glasses sparkling: "When you came in just now, I observed—your energy fluctuations are very complex, not like a single Mutantability. Would you be willing to let me collect some data sometime?"
Rorschach raised an eyebrow: "Collect data?"
"Just draw some blood, do an analysis." Hank quickly explained. "It won't hurt, my technique is very good—"
"Hank." Charles interrupted him. "Don't start thinking about drawing blood right away."
Hank sheepishly shut up, but his eyes were still glued to Rorschach, like a cat seeing a fish.
Rorschach's heart stirred.
Drawing blood? This was truly a pillow sent when one was sleepy.
"Another day." He patted Hank's shoulder. "Let's settle in first."
Hank's eyes lit up: "It's a deal then!"
The group grandly entered the house.
McCone led them on a tour—the first floor had the living room, dining room, kitchen, and library; the second floor was for dormitories; the third floor housed the training grounds and laboratory; the basement was temporarily empty and might be converted into some kind of "emergency shelter" later.
Rorschach's room was on the east end of the second floor, with a window facing the backyard lawn. Raven's room was right next door, Eric's room was at the west end, and beyond that was Charles's.
Tom peered around the doorframe: "Mr. Rorschach, I live downstairs from you. If you need anything, just stomp your foot and I'll come up."
Rorschach waved his hand: "Got it, go pack your things."
Tom ran off, grinning.
Raven leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him pack—though there wasn't much to pack, just a worn backpack containing two changes of clothes and the Art of War book he'd taken from the base.
"You're quite popular." Raven spoke, her tone unreadable.
Rorschach turned to look at her: "Are you jealous?"
"Jealous of your head." Raven rolled her eyes. "I'm just curious how you always have people following you wherever you go. Tom is like that, and the new Hank is also staring at you."
"Charisma."
"Oh, please."
Rorschach walked over, put his arm around her waist, and whispered in her ear: "Don't worry, the person I want to follow most is you."
Raven's ears turned slightly red, and she raised a hand to punch him, but didn't pull away.
Just then, a loud bang suddenly echoed from downstairs—BOOM!
Followed by Darwin's shout: "Holy crap! Alex, you blew up the wall!"
Rorschach and Raven exchanged glances and quickly went downstairs.
In the living room on the first floor, Ruin Alex stood in the middle, his hands still in a firing pose, red energy sparks crackling at his fingertips. On the wall opposite him, a smoking hole half a meter in diameter gaped, revealing the lawn outside and the stunned fountain angel statue through it.
Darwin stood nearby, his face covered in dust, his eyes wide as saucers.
"I…" Ruin Alex opened his mouth, his expression innocent. "I just wanted to see if I could control it…"
Hank rushed down the stairs, saw the hole in the wall, and almost dropped his glasses: "That's 193-year-old oak wainscoting! Hand-carved!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
Charles walked over, looked at the hole in the wall, then at Ruin Alex, and took a deep breath: "It seems we need to strengthen control training."
Eric spoke coldly from the side: "Not just him. Everyone here needs it."
Rorschach leaned against the stair railing, watching the farce, a smile playing on his lips.
New base in New York, new people, new atmosphere, new walls, new holes.
Lively, truly lively.
Chapter 69: Acquiring Soundwave: A Man Who Can Sing Won't Have Too Bad Luck
The first night at the new base, few people slept soundly.
Rorschach lay in bed, listening to the symphony of sounds echoing through this century-old mansion — the rhythmic thumping of Hank pacing back and forth upstairs, the creak of the mattress as Raven tossed and turned next door, Eric's German sleep-talk murmuring from the end of the corridor, and Darwin's snoring downstairs rumbling like a tractor starting up.
The most outrageous was the third floor, where Havok Alex was probably having a nightmare, emitting bursts of energy sparks every half hour, crackling like firecrackers.
Rorschach stared at the ceiling and sighed.
This wasn't a school for Mutants; it was clearly an expansion project for a mental hospital.
Early the next morning, he went downstairs with faint dark circles under his eyes and found a circle of people already seated in the dining room.
Charles sat at the head of the table holding a cup of coffee, looking as refreshed as if he'd slept for twelve hours.
Hank sat beside him, clutching a notebook. The lenses of his glasses reflected the light as he stared at everyone entering the room, his gaze like a cat watching a fish tank.
As soon as Rorschach sat down next to Raven, Hankapproached.
"Mr. Rorschach, how did you rest last night?" Hank smiled with sincere-looking concern, but his notebook was already flipped to a blank page. "Any discomfort? Like energy fluctuations, tinnitus, hallucinations—"
"Hank," Charles interrupted him. "Breakfast."
Hank awkwardly fell silent, but his eyes remained glued to Rorschach.
Raven muttered quietly beside him, "What's wrong with him?"
"A scientist's common ailment," Rorschach said, taking a bite of bread. "They want to study anything new they see."
"Then you'd better stay far away."
"Stay away from what?" Rorschach raised an eyebrow, smiling meaningfully. "Maybe one day I'll have to willingly offer myself up."
Raven glanced at him, didn't understand, but couldn't be bothered to ask.
Halfway through breakfast, Charles clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.
"Training starts officially today," he said, standing up and sweeping his gaze over everyone present. "The CIA has provided us with facilities and equipment, but real growth depends on ourselves."
Eric leaned back in his chair and spoke coldly, "Train for what? How to fight or how to get beaten?"
"Both," Charles said, ignoring his jab. "We need to familiarize ourselves with each other's abilities and find ways to cooperate. Shaw and his Hellfire Club won't give us time to adapt slowly, so—"
He paused and looked toward Sea Witch Xien sitting in the corner. "Sean, you're up first."
Sea Witch Xien was taken aback and pointed at himself. "Me?"
"Yes," Charles nodded. "Your sonic ability has a wide coverage area, making it suitable for a demonstration. Let everyone see what you can do."
Banshee scratched his head, stood up, and followed Charles outside, looking a bit embarrassed.
Rorschach set down his fork and leisurely followed them.
The training ground was on the third floor, originally a ballroom. Hank had spent the night converting it into a makeshift training room. The walls were covered in soundproofing foam, the floor laid with thick rubber mats. In the corner were piled various testing instruments — oscilloscopes, decibel meters, spectrum analyzers. An unknowing observer might think they'd entered a recording studio.
Banshee stood in the center of the area, hands in his pockets, looking somewhat awkward.
Charles stood beside him, his tone gentle. "Don't be nervous. Treat it as practice. Try your basic ability first."
Banshee took a deep breath and nodded.
The next second, he opened his mouth—
A sharp shriek tore through the air!
Rorschach felt his eardrums go numb and instinctively activated Super Defense, evolving a layer of soundproofing membrane inside his ear canals.
Darwin beside him wasn't so lucky. He jumped as if electrocuted, hands clapped over his ears, face contorted.
"Holy shit!" Darwin yelled. "Could you give a warning!"
Banshee quickly shut his mouth, his face flushing red. "Sorry, sorry, I haven't learned to control it yet—"
"It's fine," Charles waved a hand, signaling him to continue. "Try lowering the frequency, use the sound waves to move objects."
Banshee swallowed and opened his mouth again.
This time the sound was much deeper, resonating like the bass register of a cello.
As the sound waves oscillated, the rubber mat on the floor began to tremble slightly, then — slowly started moving, as if pushed by an invisible hand, sliding toward the opposite wall.
Hank stared at the oscilloscope, eyes gleaming. "Frequency controlled at 4-6 Hz, stable amplitude, energy conversion efficiency reaching 78% — impressive!"
Rorschach leaned against the wall, watching this scene, silently calculating in his mind.
Sonic manipulation — usable for offense, defense, Flight, even as sonar. It was a versatile, multi-functional ability.
Banshee's current level was only 1.0. Once he trained to 2.0, one man could equal a small squad.
This blood, must be taken.
After one round of demonstration, Banshee already had sweat on his forehead. Charles told him to rest and then called Havok Alex to the field.
Alex stood in the center of the area, hands hanging at his sides, his expression as grave as if heading to the execution ground.
"Control your emotions," Charles's voice was soft. "Remember, the energy itself isn't malicious. It's your emotions guiding it."
Alex nodded and took a deep breath.
Red energy sparks crackled from his fingertips, less frequent than last night but still unstable.
He tried to gather the energy in his palm. The sparks coalesced into a ball of light, fluctuating in size like a heart about to explode at any moment.
"Steady," Charles continued to guide. "Treat it like your breath. Don't fight it, accept it—"
Before he finished speaking, the light ball suddenly expanded!
Alex's face changed, and he instinctively pushed his hands forward — BOOM!
A red shockwave grazed Charles's shoulder and slammed into the wall. The soundproofing foam exploded into a large hole, revealing cracked brick behind it. Rubble clattered to the floor.
Silence.
Everyone stared at the hole, then at Alex, their expressions complicated.
Alex's hands were still trembling, his face as white as paper. "I... I really tried to control it..."
Darwin muttered quietly, "Tried? Try a bit harder and this building collapses."
Eric spoke coldly from the side, "If you can't control it, don't practice. On the battlefield, that blast of yours would hit your own people."
Alex lowered his head and said nothing.
Charles walked over and patted his shoulder. "Don't rush. Take it slowly. You were much steadier today than yesterday."
"Steady?" Eric stood up, his tone sarcastic. "He blew up a wall yesterday, and he blew up a wall today. That's called steady?"
Rorschach leaned against the wall, watching this scene, silently noting Eric's behavior in his mind.
This guy really had an unpleasant way of speaking. No wonder he ended up a loner in the future.
The morning's training ended in utter chaos.
During lunch, Alex sat alone in a corner, barely touching the food on his plate. Darwin went over and said a few words, but was brushed off. Banshee sat nearby, looking like he wanted to say something but ultimately didn't speak.
Raven carried her tray over and sat next to Rorschach, lowering her voice. "Aren't you going to comfort him?"
"Comfort him about what?" Rorschach took a bite of a chicken leg. "He's not a three-year-old. If he collapses from a few harsh words, how will he handle the battlefield later?"
Raven glanced at him. "You're quite nonchalant."
"It's not that I'm nonchalant," Rorschach said, setting down the chicken leg and looking toward Alex. "It's that he needs to figure it out for himself — an uncontrollable ability isn't an ability; it's a ticking time bomb."
Raven was silent for two seconds, then suddenly asked, "What about you? Can you control your ability?"
Rorschach turned to look at her, smiling carefreely. "Me? I'm the exception."
"What exception?"
"The exception for being handsome."
Raven rolled her eyes and couldn't be bothered to ask further.
Training continued in the afternoon.
Charles adjusted the plan, pairing Banshee and Havok Alex together — Banshee would use sonic interference, and Alex would try to stabilize his energy amidst the interference.
This combination sounded reasonable, but in practice, it was a disaster.
As soon as Banshee opened his mouth, Alex's energy sparks exploded. Banshee lowered the frequency; Alexmanaged to hold steady for three seconds, then was thrown off again by a high-pitched note, undoing all progress.
The two struggled for half an hour, adding three more holes to the wall. Alex's face went from white to green, and Banshee's voice was almost hoarse.
Charles rubbed his temples and sighed. "Let's take a break."
Everyone scattered — some drinking water, some sitting on the floor catching their breath.
Rorschach stood up, stretched, and walked over to Banshee.
"Is your throat okay?"
Banshee looked up at him, his voice indeed a bit hoarse. "It's fine, just a little dry."
Rorschach handed him a bottle of water. "Have some. Vocal cords are muscles too; they get fatigued with overuse."
Banshee took the water, gulped a few mouthfuls, and suddenly asked, "Mr. Rorschach, what is your ability? I haven't seen you train properly yet."
Rorschach sat down beside him and smiled. "My ability is rather complex, not really suitable for practicing indoors."
"Why?"
"Because—" Rorschach paused and pointed at the holes in the wall. "The commotion would be bigger than this."
Sea Witch Xien was taken aback for a moment, then chuckled. "That's true. If you blow up a few more walls, Hank would probably lose his mind."
"Exactly. I usually wait until night when no one's around to practice outside."
Sea Witch Xien's eyes lit up. "Can you show me tonight?"
Rorschach's mind stirred, but his expression remained unchanged. "Want to learn?"
"Yes." Sea Witch Xien nodded, his expression serious. "I feel there's a lot of untapped potential in my ability. Charles said today that I could use sound waves to fly, but I tried a few times and couldn't get off the ground at all. At most, I levitated half a meter before dropping back down."
Rorschach patted his shoulder. "Flying isn't something you can rush. Your sound waves need to find the right frequency, and you need to learn to catch the reflected waves."
"Reflected waves?"
"Right." Rorschach pointed at the ceiling. "The sound waves you emit bounce back when they hit obstacles. If you can sense these returning waves, you can adjust your direction mid-air. It's called Sonar Positioning."
Sea Witch Xien listened intently, his eyes growing brighter.
Rorschach stood up, brushing off his pants. "If you're free tonight, come find me. The backyard is spacious. I'll teach you a few tricks."
"Really?" Sea Witch Xien shot to his feet, his face filled with delight.
"Really." Rorschach smiled. "But there's one condition."
"What condition?"
"If Hank chases me tomorrow wanting to draw blood, you have to cover for me."
Sea Witch Xien paused, then laughed. "Deal!"
At ten o'clock that night, the base grew quiet.
Rorschach slipped silently out of his room and climbed out of a second-floor window. The backyard lawn shimmered silver under the moonlight, the angel statue in the fountain standing quietly, its expression holy and innocent.
He stood firmly on the grass, stretching his limbs.
Not long after, a dark figure climbed down from a third-floor window, stumbling upon landing and nearly falling.
Sea Witch Xien whispered, "That window is really hard to climb."
"Use the door next time." Rorschach smiled. "Let's begin."
He first had Sea Witch Xien demonstrate his current level. Sea Witch Xien took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and emitted a low-frequency sound wave, his body slowly lifting off the ground—rising about half a meter, wobbling, then settling back down.
Rorschach watched from the side, already understanding the issue.
"Your problem isn't with your vocal cords," he said. "It's that you don't know how to 'listen.'"
Sea Witch Xien scratched his head. "Listen to what?"
"To your own sound." Rorschach pointed at his throat. "The sound waves you emit are a tool, but you're only using the transmitter, not the receiver. Sound waves bounce back when they hit something, and the returning waves carry information—distance, direction, shape. If you can receive that information, you can find your balance point in the air."
Sea Witch Xien listened, dumbfounded. "How... how do I practice that?"
"Start with hearing." Rorschach pulled a small device from his pocket—a decibel meter Hank had used for testing during the day. "Try emitting a sustained sound wave at a fixed frequency. I'll stand in different spots holding this, and you use your ears to figure out where I am."
Sea Witch Xien swallowed and nodded.
The training began.
First round: Sea Witch Xien closed his eyes, emitted a sound wave, and Rorschach stood five meters away. After listening for a few seconds, Sea Witch Xien pointed to the left. Rorschach was on the right.
Second round: Rorschach moved ten meters away. Sea Witch Xien listened a bit longer, then pointed straight ahead. Rorschach was forty-five degrees to the left front.
Third round: Rorschach circled behind him. This time, Sea Witch Xien listened for a full ten seconds before suddenly turning and pointing to the exact spot.
Rorschach smiled. "You're improving."
Sea Witch Xien opened his eyes, his face lit with excitement. "I really heard it! That feeling—it was like ripples sweeping out from me, hitting you, and bouncing back!"
"That's sonar." Rorschach walked over and patted his shoulder. "Remember that feeling. Practice slowly, and eventually you'll know what's around you even with your eyes closed."
Sea Witch Xien nodded vigorously, then suddenly asked, "Mr. Rorschach, where did you learn these techniques? Charles never mentioned them."
Rorschach smiled. "I met a friend who could use sound waves before. He taught me a bit."
"Where is that person now?"
"Gone." Rorschach looked up at the moon. "But I remember what he taught."
Sea Witch Xien was silent for two seconds before saying earnestly, "I'll practice hard."
"Practice is fine, but don't overdo it." Rorschach looked back, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, right. Try adjusting your sound wave frequency higher. See what happens."
Sea Witch Xien did as instructed.
A sharp shriek pierced the night sky—the next second, the angel statue in the fountain wobbled, a thin crack crawling up its wing from the base.
Sea Witch Xien shut his mouth in fright. "I-I didn't mean to!"
Rorschach stared at the crack, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
High frequency—capable of resonating with solid materials. This ability would be very useful later.
"It's fine." He waved a hand. "Hank is used to fixing walls. One more statue won't bother him."
Sea Witch Xien sighed in relief, then remembered something else. "Mr. Rorschach, you were standing so close just now. Didn't it hurt your ears?"
Rorschach thought to himself: *Hurt? I evolved Sound-Dampening Membranes long ago.*
But out loud, he said, "It hurt, but I endured it."
Sea Witch Xien looked at him with newfound respect.
The two practiced for another half hour. Sea Witch Xien's progress was visible to the naked eye. He could now stay airborne for two seconds, though his posture resembled a chicken being strangled—at least he was flying.
Rorschach checked the sky. The moon had climbed to its zenith.
"That's enough for now. Let's head back. We have training tomorrow."
Sea Witch Xien landed, looking a bit reluctant, but nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Rorschach."
"Don't mention it." Rorschach turned to walk back. "Remember to cover for me with Hank tomorrow."
Sea Witch Xien smiled and waved.
Just then, his foot suddenly slipped—a sprinkler head from the backyard irrigation system had popped up unnoticed, leaving a puddle of water right where he landed.
Sea Witch Xien fell backward, instinctively grabbing wildly and catching the nearby iron fence.
The fence's spikes scraped his palm, and blood welled up.
"Ouch!" Sea Witch Xien winced in pain, shaking his hand.
Rorschach turned and stepped to his side in one stride. "Are you okay?"
"Fine, just a scratch." Sea Witch Xien looked at his palm; blood was still seeping out.
Rorschach glanced down at the wound. "Go back and treat it. Don't let it get infected."
As he spoke, he reached out to support Sea Witch Xien's arm—his right palm pressed directly against the wound, the sensation warm and sticky.
In his mind, a system prompt quietly sounded:
[Detected Mutant Sean Cassidy (Sea Witch Xien)'s blood. Acquired superpower: Sound Wave Manipulation 1.0. Points +10]
[Sound Wave Manipulation 1.0 pending fusion. Can be combined with existing abilities.]
[Current total points: 178]
Rorschach's expression didn't change. He released his grip, his tone casual as ever. "Let's go. I'll walk you back."
Sea Witch Xien nodded, holding his wound. The two climbed back through the window one after the other.
Under the moonlight, a trail of footprints remained on the backyard lawn.
The angel statue in the fountain stood quietly, the crack on its wing glinting with fragmented light in the moonlight.
Early the next morning, Rorschach stepped out of his room refreshed, only to run into Hank, who had dark circles under his eyes.
"Mr. Rorschach!" Hank rushed over, holding up a photograph. "The angel statue in the backyard cracked last night! Do you know what happened?"
Rorschach glanced at it, his expression innocent. "Cracked? Maybe it's just old and worn out?"
"Impossible! That's a 1950s Italian marble sculpture, perfectly preserved—" Hank suddenly stopped, staring at Rorschach. "Where were you last night?"
"Sleeping." Rorschach yawned. "If you don't believe me, ask Raven."
Hank stared at him for three seconds, suspicion in his eyes, but finding no evidence, he could only leave in a huff.
Rorschach watched his retreating back, a slight smile playing on his lips.
He turned and went downstairs. Sea Witch Xien was eating breakfast in the dining hall and, seeing him enter, subtly gave a thumbs-up.
Rorschach nodded and sat down opposite him.
Raven leaned over, lowering her voice. "When did you two get so close?"
Rorschach took a bite of bread. "Flying lesson last night."
Raven raised an eyebrow. "You can fly?"
"A little."
"Then why aren't you teaching me?"
Rorschach turned to look at her, smiling meaningfully. "You don't rely on flying for a living. I'll teach you something else."
Raven's face flushed, and she punched his arm.
Not far away, Eric watched the scene coldly, the metal fork in his hand bending again.
Charles sat at the head of the table, holding a cup of coffee. His gaze swept between Rorschach and Sea Witch Xien before finally settling on Rorschach's face, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
Rorschach met his gaze and raised his bread. "Charles, what's the training for today?"
Charles was silent for two seconds before slowly replying, "Eat breakfast first."
Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on the long dining table.
A new day had begun.
Chapter 70: Angel Wings: Not Everything That Flies Is an Angel, But Angels Always Fly
On the third day at the new base, Rorschach discovered a pattern—the dining hall at breakfast was always livelier than the training ground.
Charles sat at the head of the table, holding a coffee and reading the newspaper, his expression as calm as a Buddha statue in a temple.
Eric sat in the corner, an untouched fried egg in front of him, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table, making the knives and forks tremble slightly.
Ruin Alex ate with his head down, occasionally looking up at the new patch on the wall—it was the third hole he had blasted yesterday, which Hank had filled with plaster overnight. Its color was two shades darker than the adjacent wall, looking like a plaster cast from a distance.
Darwin leaned closer to Rorschach, lowering his voice: "Do you think Hank will bring up the blood draw again today?"
"Yes." Rorschach took a bite of bread, perfectly composed, "And he'll be even more persistent than yesterday."
No sooner had he spoken than Hank sat down opposite him with a tray.
"Mr. Rorschach." Hank pushed up his glasses, his eyes behind the lenses shining like two searchlights, "Last night I studied your energy fluctuation data—although it was only from observations made from a distance, I discovered a very interesting phenomenon."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow: "What phenomenon?"
"Your energy spectrum is very complex." Hank put down his fork, pulled out a small notebook from his pocket, and opened it to reveal dense notes. "Normally, a Mutant's energy fluctuation is single-peaked, like—well, like a person's fingerprint, unique. But your fluctuation is multi-peaked, and there are interference fringes between the peaks, which means—"
"Means what?" Raven leaned over, her face full of curiosity.
Hank took a deep breath, his expression serious: "It means he might have more than one ability within him."
Silence for two seconds.
Darwin's eyes widened: "Holy crap, isn't that... a superpower buffet?"
Rorschach almost burst out laughing.
That analogy was quite apt.
Hank stared at Rorschach, his gaze as fervent as a scientist seeing a new species: "Mr. Rorschach, I really only need a tiny bit of blood—just one drop, a gentle prick with a needle, it won't hurt—let me analyze your DNA structure, this would be of great significance to the study of the entire Mutant population—"
"Hank." Charles put down his newspaper, his tone helpless, "I told you, don't immediately think about drawing blood."
Hank reluctantly shut up, but his gaze still lingered on Rorschach, like a cat staring at a fish tank.
Rorschach patted his shoulder: "Another day. The weather's nice today, suitable for outdoor activities."
Hank's eyes lit up again: "Then which day is 'another day'?"
"Another day is—" Rorschach stood up, smiling as he walked out, "—when you understand why 195-year-old Italian marble is more important than your research."
Hank froze, his face falling.
Raven followed Rorschach, laughing so hard she couldn't straighten up: "You're too mean. He was almost crazy trying to fix that wall for days."
"Just let him cool down." Rorschach put his arm around her waist, "Come on, let's go sunbathe in the backyard."
The backyard lawn shimmered with emerald green in the morning light. The angel statue in the fountain stood quietly, the cracks on its wings already mended by Hankwith special glue, almost invisible in the sun.
Rorschach stared at the thin crack for three seconds, thinking that Hank's craftsmanship was indeed good; if he didn't become a scientist in the future, he could work in cultural relic restoration.
Raven found a comfortable spot on the lawn and sat down, tilting her head back to sunbathe. Her blue scales shimmered with tiny glints in the sunlight, like a layer of crushed diamonds.
Rorschach sat beside her, his psychic energy quietly spreading out, covering the entire backyard.
Tom was practicing light energy in the corner, already able to create palm-sized birds and make them fly around in the air twice.
Banshee—now he should be called Banshee—stood on the other side, his eyes closed, emitting an almost inaudible sound wave. His body slowly lifted off the ground, rising two meters high, swayed, and then descended.
He landed on the third second, a slight improvement from last night.
Rorschach's lips curved slightly. This kid was practicing very diligently.
Just then, a shadow swept over their heads.
Rorschach looked up and saw Angel Salvador circling in mid-air.
Her wings were fully spread, transparent in the sunlight like a dragonfly's delicate wings, with iridescent halos at the edges.
She flew slowly, but her movements were a bit clumsy, occasionally swaying, like a child just learning to ride a bike.
Raven saw her too and whistled: "Nice flight."
No sooner had she spoken than Angel Salvador suddenly lost her balance and plunged downwards—her wings flapped frantically, barely stabilizing her before she landed, her feet touching the ground, stumbling two steps before she stood firm.
Her face flushed crimson, and she stared down at her toes.
Raven was stunned for a moment, then quietly asked Rorschach: "What's wrong with her?"
Rorschach didn't speak, standing up and walking towards the Angel.
Angel Salvador heard footsteps, looked up, then quickly lowered her head, her voice muffled: "I don't fly well, I know."
"Who said that?" Rorschach stopped in front of her, his tone casual.
"No one said." She pursed her lips, "But I know. Darwinand the others are watching, I know what they're thinking—a Mutant who can fly, flying like this, it's embarrassing."
Rorschach was silent for two seconds, then suddenly smiled: "Do you know what I was like the first time I flew?"
The Angel looked up at him, her eyes filled with curiosity.
"I fell seventeen times." Rorschach fabricated a story without batting an eye, "The last time I hit a tree and hung there for half an hour before I got down."
The Angel's eyes widened: "Really?"
"Really." Rorschach nodded, his expression sincere, "So, you're already much better than I was back then."
The Angel stared at him for a few seconds, her lips curving slightly upwards, then quickly pressing down: "You're lying."
"Why would I lie to you?" Rorschach spread his hands, "There's no bonus."
The Angel couldn't help but let out a laugh.
Rorschach looked up at the sky; the sun was just right, and the breeze was gentle. He turned his head and looked at the Angel: "Want to try something new?"
The Angel was startled: "What new thing?"
"Flying techniques." Rorschach pointed to the sky, "I've been observing you for two days. Your problem isn't your wings, it's your breathing."
"Breathing?"
"Yes." Rorschach nodded, "You're too nervous when you fly, your shoulders are tense, and your breathing is all messed up. No matter how flexible your wings are, if your body is stiff, how can you be steady?"
The Angel pondered, unconsciously touching her wings.
Raven had approached at some point, leaning next to Rorschach, looking at him with a half-smile: "When did you become a flight instructor?"
Rorschach put his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear: "Just now. What, jealous?"
Raven rolled her eyes: "Jealous of your head." She turned to the Angel, her tone much softer, "He's quite good at teaching people, I can vouch for that."
The Angel looked at Raven, then at Rorschach, her eyes showing a hint of hesitation.
Rorschach smiled, let go of Raven, and extended his hand to the Angel: "Come on, there's no harm in trying."
The Angel bit her lip, then finally extended her hand, gently grasping his fingertips.
Her hand was small, her fingertips cool, but her palm had a thin layer of calluses—probably from gripping things.
Rorschach squeezed, then released, his tone normal: "First, take a few deep breaths, relax your shoulders."
The Angel did as she was told.
Raven watched for a while, then suddenly spoke: "I'll go get some water, you two keep practicing."
Rorschach glanced at her, a smile in his eyes: "So thoughtful?"
Raven playfully punched him, then ran off laughing.
Only Rorschach and the Angel remained on the lawn.
The Angel took a few deep breaths, her shoulders visibly relaxing. She looked up at Rorschach, her eyes filled with anticipation: "And then?"
"Then—" Rorschach walked behind her, standing a meter away, "—fly up, slowly, feel the airflow gliding over the edges of your wings."
The Angel nodded, fluttered her wings, and her body slowly lifted off the ground.
This time she was steadier than before, rising three meters high, pausing in the air for five seconds before beginning to wobble.
She quickly descended, stumbling a step upon landing but not falling.
Rorschach clapped: "Progress, five seconds."
The Angel's face flushed, whether from excitement or embarrassment: "Really?"
"Really." Rorschach took a few steps closer, "Try again, this time try to turn around in the air."
The Angel took a deep breath and took off again.
This time she rose four meters high and tried to turn sideways—her wings tilted, and she lost her balance, falling to the side. She gasped and instinctively reached out to grab at nothing.
Rorschach took a step beneath her, his hands catching her steadily.
The Angel fell completely into his arms, her wings flapping frantically twice, then drooping, resting gently on his shoulder.
Her face was crimson, and she stammered: "S-s-sorry..."
"It's okay." Rorschach looked down at her, smiling gently, "I told you, I fell seventeen times before I learned. This is only your third time."
The Angel stared into his eyes, her heart suddenly skipping a beat.
The sun streamed down from behind him, coating him in a golden halo. His eyes were gentle, and his smile carried a hint of mischief, yet it inexplicably made one feel at ease.
She suddenly realized she was still in his arms and quickly struggled to get down.
Rorschach gently put her down, released his hands, and stepped back: "Try to stand steady on your own."
The Angel nodded, took a deep breath, and straightened up.
Her wings were still resting on his shoulder, not yet retracted.
Rorschach glanced at the transparent wings, then reached out and gently touched their edge.
The wings were as thin as a cicada's, yet they had a warm touch and a row of tiny downy hairs along the edge.
The Angel's body trembled slightly, her wings unconsciously tightening, gently rubbing against his shoulder.
"It tickles." She whispered, her face red again.
Rorschach withdrew his hand and smiled: "Your wings are more sensitive than I thought."
The Angel lowered her head, her earlobes flushed, her voice like a mosquito: "They... they usually don't like others touching them."
"Then, when I touched them, were they angry?"
The Angel was silent for two seconds, then shook her head.
Rorschach smiled, put his arm around her shoulder, and gently patted it: "Alright, that's enough practice for today. Go back and drink some water, we'll continue tomorrow."
The Angel looked up at him, her eyes filled with an unreadable emotion.
Just then, a gust of wind blew, and her wings suddenly unfurled, fully spread in the sunlight, transparent like crystal, with iridescent light shimmering along their edges.
One of the wings gently brushed Rorschach's cheek, bringing a warm touch and a faint, elusive fragrance.
Rorschach was slightly startled.
The next second, the system prompt sounded in his mind:
[Detected Mutant Angel Salvador (female), intimate contact conditions met, acquiring ability...]
[Acquired superpower: Poison Feather Manipulation 1.0, points +100]
[Poison Feather Manipulation 1.0 includes the following sub-abilities: Flight (Insect Biomimicry Wings), Corrosive Saliva Spray, Sonic Vibration (high-frequency wing vibration)]
[Detected Flight Ability 2.0, merging...]
[Merge complete, current Flight Level: 2.3 (merged insect biomimicry flight characteristics, greatly increased maneuverability)]
[Detected Energy Manipulation 2.0, corrosive saliva can serve as a supplementary form of energy attack, awaiting subsequent merge optimization]
[Current total points: 188]
Rorschach's expression remained unchanged, his hand still on the Angel's shoulder, his tone normal: "Cold? Want to go back and put on a jacket?"
The Angel shook her head, retracting her wings and pressing them against her back, like a transparent cloak.
She looked up at Rorschach, her eyes filled with gratitude and something else: "Mr. Rorschach, thank you."
"Just call me Rorschach." He smiled as he let go of her hand, "'Mr. Mr.' sounds like a teacher."
The Angel nodded, softly calling out: "Rorschach."
Raven ran back with two bottles of water, just in time to see this scene. She looked at the Angel's slightly flushed face, then at Rorschach's calm expression, her eyes meaningful.
"How's the practice?" She handed the water to the Angel, her tone natural.
The Angel took the water and nodded: "It's good, Rorschach taught very diligently."
Raven glanced at Rorschach, her lips curving slightly: "That's good."
The three walked back together.
Passing the fountain, Rorschach glanced at the angel statue. In the sunlight, the statue's wings glowed grayish-white, and the glue filling the cracks reflected faintly.
He suddenly asked the Angel: "Do you know who this statue is?"
The Angel was startled, then shook her head.
"Just an ordinary angel." Rorschach smiled, "Far inferior to you."
The Angel's face flushed, and she lowered her head, but her lips curled up secretly.
Raven rolled her eyes beside them, muttering: "Smooth talker."
Rorschach heard her, leaned down and whispered in her ear: "Old spot tonight, I'll show you what real smooth talk is."
Raven's earlobes turned slightly red, and she raised her hand to punch him, but he dodged with a laugh.
The three walked into the house, chatting and laughing.
By the third-floor window, Hank held a telescope, staring at Rorschach's back, his notebook already flipped to a new page.
"Flight Ability... suspected new energy fluctuation..." He muttered, writing furiously, "After contacting Angel Salvador, his energy spectrum changed again... This person definitely has a big secret..."
Charles appeared behind him at some point and patted his shoulder: "Hank, put the telescope away."
Hank jumped, turning to look at him: "Charles, don't you think there's something wrong with Rorschach?"
Charles was silent for two seconds, then looked out the window.
Rorschach was walking through the door, his arm around Raven's waist, chatting and laughing with the Angel.
"There is something wrong." Charles slowly spoke, "But for now, it's not a bad problem."
Hank wanted to say more, but Charles waved his hand: "Stop staring. What's meant to be known will be known eventually."
At dinner, the dining hall was as lively as a marketplace.
Ruin Alex controlled himself well today, only blowing out one light bulb, and it was the smallest one.
Darwin cheered him on, saying that with another half year of practice, he'd be able to control it to the point of "not blowing things up."
Sea Witch Xien—no, he should be called Banshee now—showcased his new achievement, hovering in the air for a full eight seconds, landing with the grace of a diver, earning a round of applause.
The Angel sat in the corner, quietly eating, occasionally glancing up at Rorschach.
Rorschach sat beside Raven, discussing the flight trajectory of the light energy birds with Tom. Tom could now create sparrows, and had even given them two eyes, though one was large and one small, making them look like alien creatures.
Raven leaned on Rorschach's shoulder, yawning: "I'm exhausted today."
"If you're tired, go to bed early." Rorschach looked down at her, smiling meaningfully, "Tomorrow has its own matters."
Raven heard the double meaning in his words, rolled her eyes at him, but didn't pull away.
Eric sat alone at the other end of the long table, his gaze sweeping over Rorschach and Raven, then over the Angel's stolen glances at Rorschach, and the metal fork in his hand bent again.
Charles sat at the head of the table, holding his coffee, taking it all in.
He sighed softly.
This school is getting livelier and livelier.
Outside the window, the setting sun slowly sank below the horizon.
The New York twilight was as quiet as an oil painting.
But everyone knew—the storm was getting closer and closer.
Chapter 71: Clouds of War
The morning mist hadn't fully dissipated when a black CIA sedan crunched over the gravel and sped into the base.
Rorschach was leaning against the railing by the training ground, watching Darwin get beaten up—the kid had recently become obsessed with "active evolution," pestering Siren daily to blast him with sound waves. His skin would turn metallic one moment, rubbery the next, making him look like a breathing, humanoid Play-Doh.
The sound of a car door slamming made everyone look up.
Moira MacTaggert jumped out of the driver's seat, one button of her military uniform askew, her face looking even worse than Eric's did last night.
Clutching a stack of documents, she strode quickly towards Charles, her high heels tapping a rapid drumbeat on the concrete.
Rorschach narrowed his eyes.
That pace, that grip on the documents—this wasn't ordinary intelligence; this was the kind that could blow up the whole world.
"Gather," Charles's voice came from the doorway, eight octaves lower than usual. "Everyone, to the conference room."
Raven poked her head out from behind Rorschach, her blue scales glinting in the morning light. "What's this all about so early in the morning?"
Rorschach put his arm around her waist, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "It's the first act of 'The End of the World.'"
Raven rolled her eyes at him but didn't pull away.
Five minutes later, the conference room was full.
Charles stood in front of the whiteboard, Moira beside him, the stack of documents already spread out on the table. Eric leaned by the window, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping between Rorschach and Raven before settling on Charles's face.
Hank pushed up his glasses, his pen already on a new page.
Darwin and Siren squeezed onto one chair, while Havok Alex sat in the corner, his fingers unconsciously tapping his knee, emitting a faint red spark of energy that Angel Salvador extinguished with a flap of her wings.
"Quiet," Charles spoke, the two words dropping into the crowd like stones.
The conference room fell silent.
Moira stepped forward, pulled out the top document, and affixed it to the whiteboard.
It was an aerial reconnaissance photo—on a gray-white sea, several Soviet cargo ships were lined up in a column, their decks covered with tarpaulins, beneath which cylindrical outlines were faintly visible.
"This was taken yesterday by a U-2 reconnaissance plane over the waters north of Cuba," Moira's finger tapped the photo. "Soviet cargo ships, carrying—" She paused, then switched to another photo, "—medium-range ballistic missiles."
A collective gasp rose.
Darwin blurted out, "Missiles? Transporting missiles to Cuba?"
"Not just transporting," Moira continued, putting up more photos. "Over the past two weeks, the CIA has discovered at least six missile launch sites under construction in Pinar del Río Province, western Cuba.
The Soviets' plan is to deploy nuclear missiles in Cuba, aimed directly at the American homeland."
The conference room was so quiet you could hear sparrows flapping their wings outside the window.
Charles took over, his voice deep: "President Kennedydelivered a national address yesterday, announcing a naval blockade of Cuba.
U.S. forces have entered DEFCON 2, over 180 warships are massing in the Caribbean, and B-52 bombers with nuclear payloads are on twenty-four-hour airborne alert."
Eric walked over from the window, stood in front of the whiteboard, staring at the photos.
"So?" His voice was calm, as calm as the sea before a storm. "Humans are going to fight a nuclear war, what does that have to do with us?"
Moira looked at him, her eyes complex. "Shaw's involvement."
She pulled out the last photo—it was a white private yacht, anchored somewhere in Cuban waters, its deck empty, yet exuding an indescribable eeriness.
"This ship appeared near Cuba three days ago, flying the Panamanian flag, but the owner registered it as—" Moirapaused, "—Sebastian Shaw Holdings."
Shaw.
The name pierced everyone's eardrums like a needle.
Eric's eyes changed instantly. He stared at the photo, the magnetic field around him beginning to subtly vibrate, the metal pen holder on the table humming, and several fountain pens floating up.
Charles raised a hand and placed it on his shoulder. "Eric, calm down."
"I am calm," Eric's voice grated through clenched teeth. "Where is he? I'll go right now—"
"Go where?" Charles cut him off. "Charge into Cuban waters, alone against Shaw and his Hellfire? You don't even know which ship he's on."
Eric glared at him, his chest heaving, but he said nothing more.
Moira seized the opportunity to continue: "According to intelligence, Shaw's plan is to exploit the Cuban Missile Crisis. He wants to provoke a war between the U.S. and the Soviet Union—once their fleets clash, he'll detonate a few missiles in the chaos. The nuclear radiation will awaken more Mutants worldwide."
"And then?" Raven asked.
"Then the Mutants will rise," Charles took over, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. "On a nuclear wasteland, on the ruins of humanity. This is Shaw's 'New World Order.'"
Silence.
This silence was heavier, more stifling than before.
Darwin unconsciously touched the scabbed wound on his arm—a "teaching souvenir" Rorschach had left him last week. Havok Alex stared down at his hands, which had just sparked red again. Angel Salvador's wings unconsciously unfolded and retracted, retracted and unfolded.
Rorschach leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the expressions of the others.
Fear, anger, confusion, eagerness—a palette of emotions splashed across their faces.
He glanced at the photos on the whiteboard, silently calculating in his mind:
Shaw's energy absorption, starting at level 2.
The White Queen's diamond form plus Telepathy.
Red Devil's spatial jump, Riptide's storm manipulation.
Four heads, starting at over 4,000 points.
Plus the potential "unexpected gains" in the melee...
Sweet.
"Rorschach," Charles's voice suddenly broke through. "What are your thoughts?"
Rorschach snapped back to attention, finding everyone staring at him.
He cleared his throat, his expression as sincere as if he were attending church: "My idea is simple—Shaw wants to start a nuclear war, and we have to stop him. The question is how to stop him."
Eric stared at him. "What's your brilliant suggestion?"
"No brilliant suggestions, just a bit of common sense." Rorschach stood up, walked to the whiteboard, and pointed at the photo of Shaw's yacht. "He's currently in Cuban waters, surrounded by over a hundred U.S. and Soviet warships. A frontal assault is definitely out—the few of us charging in wouldn't survive a single volley."
"Then what do you propose?" Charles asked.
"Wait for him to come out," Rorschach shrugged. "Shaw wants to detonate missiles; he can't stay hidden on his yacht forever. He has to get close to the fleet, he has to find the right moment, he has to—" He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips, "—he has to appear where we can reach him."
Eric frowned. "Just wait like that?"
"Whether you wait or not is up to you," Rorschach looked at him, his smile unchanged. "I'm just suggesting—don't let hatred burn out your brain. When Shaw killed your mother, you couldn't save her. But now, you have a chance for revenge."
The words were as blunt as a knife.
Eric's face froze for a moment, the magnetic field around him fluctuating violently, all the metal objects on the table floating.
Charles stepped forward. "Erik—"
"I'm fine," Erik took a deep breath, and the magnetic field slowly subsided. He stared at Rorschach for three seconds, his eyes as complex as an overturned spice rack, then averted his gaze and walked to the window.
Rorschach's expression remained unchanged as he sat back down.
Raven leaned over, lowering her voice. "Was that intentional, what you just said?"
"What was intentional?"
"Hitting his sore spot."
Rorschach put his arm around her waist, smiling carelessly: "I was helping him face reality. Hatred, if you bottle it up, can cause internal injury. Occasionally airing it out prevents it from festering."
Raven rolled her eyes but didn't press further.
Moira cleared her throat, bringing the conversation back on track: "Charles, the CIA's intention is for you, the X-Men, to stop Shaw. This is not an opponent that human armies can handle."
Charles nodded, his gaze sweeping over everyone. "I know. So we need to be prepared to deploy at any moment."
He paused, his tone growing more serious: "This time, it's not training, not an exercise. It's a true life-and-death battle. Shaw and his Hellfire won't show mercy, and human armies won't differentiate between Mutants and humans. On the battlefield, all you can rely on is each other."
Darwin swallowed, asking softly, "Um... can Shaw really absorb all attacks?"
"All energy attacks," Charles nodded. "The harder you hit him, the stronger he gets. His only weakness is—" He looked at Rorschach, "—what you said before, his absorption limit."
Rorschach spread his hands. "A guess, not necessarily accurate."
"Then we'll treat it as accurate," Eric turned around and spoke coldly. "There's only one way to deal with Shaw—overload his absorption until he explodes. If one person isn't enough, then two; if two aren't enough, then all of us."
As he said this, his gaze swept over everyone present, finally settling on Charles's face: "Just as you said, rely on each other."
Charles met his gaze for a few seconds, then nodded.
The atmosphere suddenly became subtle.
Rorschach watched the two of them—one gentle and firm, the other cold and resolute, their gazes clashing in the air, yet carrying an inexplicable tacit understanding.
He suddenly remembered a line from the system prompt: Professor X and Magneto, a single thought's difference, worlds apart.
But that was for later.
Now, they still stood together.
After the meeting, everyone gradually left the conference room.
As Rorschach reached the door, Charles called out to him: "Rorschach, wait a moment."
Rorschach turned. "What? Want to give me an award for 'Best Prophet'?"
Charles didn't respond, walking a few steps closer and lowering his voice: "You said Shaw would appear where we could reach him—how confident are you?"
Rorschach looked at him, silent for two seconds, then smiled: "Charles, you're a Telepathy expert, how confident do you think I am?"
Charles stared into his eyes, his gaze profound.
He could, of course, use his ability to "see"—but he didn't.
After a few seconds of silence, he slowly spoke: "I won't guess. But I hope that when the time comes, you'll truly be on our side."
Rorschach patted his shoulder, smiling carelessly: "Don't worry, I'm on the'stay alive' side. As long as our direction is the same, we're comrades."
With that, he turned and left the conference room.
Outside the door, Raven leaned against the wall, waiting for him. When he came out, she came over and linked her arm through his. "What secret did Charles tell you this time?"
Rorschach looked down at her, smiling: "He said your blue skin is really beautiful."
Raven rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, stop it."
"Really," Rorschach put his arm around her waist and walked towards the backyard. "He also said that after this battle, he'd arrange our wedding."
Raven stopped short, her face instantly flushing. "You—what nonsense are you talking about!"
Rorschach laughed even louder.
The two walked away, chatting and laughing.
By the third-floor window, Hank held binoculars, staring at Rorschach's retreating figure, his notebook already turned to a new page.
"In the face of crisis, emotionally stable, even has leisure to flirt..." he murmured to himself, writing furiously. "Psychological quality assessment: A-grade. Suspicion level assessment: S-grade."
Charles appeared behind him at some point, patting his shoulder. "Hank, put away the binoculars."
Hank jumped, turning to him. "Charles, do you really think he's trustworthy?"
Charles was silent for a few seconds, then looked out the window.
Rorschach was walking towards the backyard with his arm around Raven's waist, the sunlight casting a long shadow.
"Whether he's trustworthy or not isn't important," Charlesslowly began. "What's important is that right now, his goal aligns with ours."
Hank wanted to say more, but Charles waved his hand. "Prepare. This battle will begin soon."
Outside the window, the clouds hung low.
The autumn of 1962 was colder than usual.
But the true cold had yet to come.
Chapter 72: The Source of Hatred
After the meeting, Rorschach had originally planned to go to the backyard to sunbathe for a while and see how Angel's wings were coming along—the expression on her face when she fell into his arms yesterday was even more captivating than the Angel statue Hank had repaired.
But just as he reached the door, Charles's figure caught up from behind.
"Everyone, please stay."
Rorschach turned around and saw that Charles's expression was even more somber than during the meeting.
He stood in front of the whiteboard, the four Hellfire Clubphotos still pinned there, Shaw's smile particularly glaring under the fluorescent lights.
"Something else?" Eric walked over from the window, his tone impatient.
Charles looked at him, silent for two seconds, then slowly spoke: "Eric, regarding Shaw, there's something you should tell everyone."
Eric's expression froze for a moment.
The atmosphere in the conference room suddenly changed.
Darwin and Siren exchanged glances, tacitly shrinking deeper into their chairs.
Ruin Alex's fingers unconsciously started tapping his knee again, stopping only when Angel tapped him with her wing.
Hank pushed up his glasses, his pen hovering above his notebook, not yet touching down.
Raven leaned against Rorschach, her blue scales subtly tightening—a habitual action when she was nervous.
Rorschach put his arm around her waist, patting her gently, his gaze fixed on Eric's face.
Here it comes.
According to the original plot, this was the moment Magneto first revealed his scars in front of everyone.
Eric stood by the window, backlit, his expression unclear.
The silence lasted about ten seconds, feeling like a century.
Then he moved.
He walked to the conference table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, his hands clasped on the table.
Those hands, with their distinct knuckles and faint veins, were now as steady as two sculptures.
"You want to know who Shaw is." His voice was calm, as if he were telling someone else's story. "I can tell you."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, finally resting on Charles's face.
"In 1944, I lived in the Jewish ghetto of Warsaw, Poland."
With just that one sentence, the temperature in the conference room seemed to drop several degrees.
Darwin swallowed, not daring to make a sound.
Eric continued, his voice still calm: "The Nazis drove us into concentration camps. My parents and I were separated. My mother—" He paused. "My mother's name was Edra."
My mother's name was Edra.
Raven's breath hitched.
"One day, they took me to a room." Eric's gaze fell on a spot on the tabletop, his focus scattered. "There was a man in a Nazi officer's uniform in the room. He told me to move the coin on the table."
Rorschach narrowed his eyes.
He, of course, knew this part of the story—Shaw forcing a young Magneto to display his powers, using his mother's life as leverage.
But hearing it directly from the person involved felt completely different.
"I tried." Eric's voice remained calm, but the metal objects on the table began to vibrate slightly. "The coin moved, but only a little. The man said it wasn't enough."
He suddenly smiled, a smile as cold as a winter iron fence.
"Then he pulled out a gun and pointed it at the glass window of the next room. My mother stood there, watching me."
The conference room was so quiet you could hear heartbeats.
Angel's wings were fully retracted, pressed against her back, like a startled butterfly. Siren's breathing was extremely low.
Ruin Alex's fingers finally stopped tapping, clenching tightly into fists.
"He said, try again." Eric's voice finally showed a hint of fluctuation, like an undercurrent beneath ice. "He said, if it still doesn't work—"
He didn't finish.
But everyone knew what came next.
"I tried," Eric repeated. "The coin moved, more than before. But it still wasn't enough."
Silence.
A long silence.
"Then he shot." Eric's gaze lifted, looking at everyone, his eyes devoid of tears, only a fire that had burned for eighteen years. "Right in front of me. When my mother fell, I—"
He suddenly stopped, taking a deep breath.
The metal objects on the table vibrated violently, pens, paperclips, staplers, all floating into mid-air, slowly rotating around Eric.
Charles raised his hand as if to say something, but Ericwaved him off, and the metal objects fell back onto the table with a clinking sound.
"Then I exploded." The corner of his mouth curved into an arc. "All the metal in that room flew up. Fences, iron beds, cutlery, all shattered into pieces. I killed many people."
He looked at his hands, which now rested quietly on the table.
"But what good was it? My mother was already dead."
Raven suddenly spoke, her voice a little hoarse: "Eric—"
"It's alright." Eric interrupted her, his gaze turning to Charles. "Later I learned that the man in the Nazi uniform was called Klaus Schmidt. But his real name was—" He paused. "Sebastian Shaw."
Shaw.
This name, like a needle, pricked everyone's ears again.
"He's a Mutant." Eric's voice returned to calm. "He can absorb energy, convert it into power, and slow down aging. I later found out he's been alive for at least twenty years, his appearance barely changed."
He looked at the photo on the whiteboard, Shaw in a suit, a proper smile, eyes like a venomous snake.
"He killed my mother, not to force me to show my abilities," Eric slowly began. "It was to create hatred."
"Hatred?" Darwin couldn't help but ask.
"Yes." Eric's gaze didn't leave the photo. "Shaw studied me; he knew what my abilities stemmed from. Anger, pain, despair—" He paused. "Hatred."
He stood up and walked to the whiteboard, his finger tapping Shaw's photo.
"He deliberately killed my mother to let hatred take root and sprout in my heart. Because he needed a weapon, a weapon he could control and use."
He turned around and looked at everyone: "But he miscalculated one thing."
"What thing?" Charles asked.
Eric smiled, a smile with an indescribable meaning: "He thought I would be consumed by hatred, becoming his puppet. But I escaped. I survived. I used the hatred he gave me to forge my own power."
He raised his hand, and the metal objects on the table floated up again, this time flying steadily, arranging themselves into a regular ring in the air.
"Eighteen years." Eric looked at the metal ring, his gaze profound. "I searched for him for eighteen years. From concentration camps to South America, from South America to Europe, from Europe to—" He looked at Moira. "Places your CIA intelligence network couldn't find."
Moira coughed lightly: "Shaw certainly hid very well."
"But it's 1962 now." Eric interrupted her, the metal ring slowly descending back to the table. "He's out. He thought his plan was flawless, that no one could stop him." He paused, a hint of killing intent finally appearing in his voice. "He was wrong."
Charles stood up and walked to his side, patting his shoulder.
"Erik, I understand how you feel."
Erik turned to look at him, his eyes complex: "You understand?"
Charles was silent for two seconds, then nodded: "I'm not like you; I haven't experienced concentration camps. But I can perceive others' emotions, and I can see the pain in their hearts." He pointed to his temple. "I've seen the wounds in your heart. Although it was only a brief contact, that was enough."
Eric stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.
"Charles, you know, sometimes I think you're the most terrifying one." He pointed to Charles's head. "You can see everyone's secrets, yet you haven't gone mad, haven't become a monster. How do you do it?"
Charles also smiled, his smile as gentle as afternoon sunlight: "Because I choose to believe in the inherent goodness of humanity."
"Then you're more optimistic than I am." Eric withdrew his gaze. "I don't believe."
He sat back down in his chair, his tone returning to calm: "You already know Shaw's plan—to provoke a nuclear war, let nuclear radiation breed more Mutants, and let Mutants rule the world." He looked at Moira. "Your CIA intelligence isn't wrong; that's his goal."
Moira nodded: "That's why we need you—"
"But there's one thing you don't know." Eric interrupted her, his gaze sweeping over everyone. "Shaw isn't alone. He has the entire Hellfire Club as his backing, with the White Queen, Red Devil, Riptide, and other Mutant helpers, and—"
He paused, looking at Charles: "He also knows another person."
"Who?" Charles asked.
Eric was silent for a few seconds, then slowly spoke: "I don't know the name. But in my pursuit of Shaw, I discovered he once collaborated with a Mutant scientist. That person was researching—genetic modification, Mutant cloning, and things like that."
Hank's eyes behind his glasses instantly lit up: "Genetic modification? Cloning?"
"Yes." Eric nodded. "The specifics aren't clear, but after Shaw left that person, he became even more radical. His plan changed from 'Mutants ruling the world' to 'Mutants replacing humans'."
Rorschach leaned back in his chair, silently making a note.
Mutant scientist, genetic modification, cloning—
This must be Mister Sinister, Nathaniel Essex. The guy who inherited Apocalypse's technology after Apocalypse died.
This plotline appearing now means that the Essex Corp storyline will be foreshadowed earlier.
Charles pondered for a moment, then turned to Moira: "Does the CIA have any intelligence on this person?"
Moira shook her head: "No. We only recently found Shaw's file; as for who he knows and who he collaborates with, it's completely blank."
"Then we'll investigate slowly." Eric stood up and stretched his limbs. "Anyway, Shaw is in Cuban waters now; he can't escape."
He walked to the window, looking at the sky outside. The clouds hung low, and sunlight filtered through the gaps, casting mottled light and shadows on the ground.
"Eighteen years," he murmured to himself. "Finally, this day has come."
Charles walked to his side, following his gaze: "Eric, when that day comes, what do you intend to do?"
Eric was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.
"You guess."
Charles sighed: "I hope you don't let hatred cloud your judgment."
"Don't worry," Erik turned to look at him, his smile unchanged. "I'm very clear-headed. Clear-headed about what I want, clear-headed about who Shaw is, clear-headed about—" He paused. "There can never be peace between humans and Mutants."
These words were blunt, like a knife piercing Charles's heart.
Charles looked at him, his gaze complex: "Eric—"
"Don't try to persuade me." Eric interrupted him. "You go your way, I'll go mine. But now—" He extended his hand and grasped Charles's hand. "We'll deal with Shaw together. What happens after that, we'll discuss later."
Charles stared at him for a few seconds, then slowly nodded.
The moment they shook hands, Rorschach distinctly saw a hint of sadness flash in Charles's eyes.
He suddenly recalled a line from the system prompt: "A single thought separates them, leading to distant paths."
But that was for later.
Now, they still stood together.
After the meeting adjourned, everyone gradually left the conference room.
As Rorschach reached the door, Raven caught up and linked her arm through his.
"What were you thinking when Eric was saying all that?"
Rorschach looked down at her and chuckled: "I was thinking about what you're eating tonight."
Raven rolled her eyes at him: "Oh, come on. Your expression just now clearly showed you were thinking about something else."
"What expression?"
"It was that kind of—" Raven thought for a moment. "'I know something you don't' expression."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
This girl's observational skills were indeed good.
He put his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear: "I was thinking, Eric's hatred has burned for eighteen years; how much longer can it burn? After Shaw, who's next?"
Raven was silent for two seconds, then quietly asked: "Do you think he'll turn that hatred onto humans?"
Rorschach didn't answer directly, just smiled: "What do you think?"
Raven said nothing.
They walked to the end of the corridor, where sunlight streamed through the window, falling upon them.
Rorschach suddenly stopped and turned to look in the direction of the conference room.
Through the half-open door, he saw Eric still standing by the window, with Charles beside him.
They looked out at the sky, one on the left, one on the right, like two statues.
The sun stretched their shadows long across the floor, intertwined.
Rorschach withdrew his gaze and continued walking with Raven.
"Let's go, time for some sun."
Raven leaned on his shoulder and softly said: "Rorschach, do you think if Eric's mother were still alive, he would have become like this?"
Rorschach was silent for two seconds, then smiled.
"I don't know. But I know there are no 'ifs'."
Raven sighed, saying nothing more.
In the backyard, the sun was just right.
Angel circled in mid-air, her wings shimmering with iridescent light in the sun.
Siren stood on the lawn, eyes closed, practicing soundwave localization, her body slowly lifting off the ground, rising two meters high, hovering for five seconds, then gently descending.
Darwin applauded from nearby: "Awesome! Two seconds longer than yesterday!"
Siren opened her eyes and grinned.
Tom squatted in a corner, holding a ball of light in his palm, molding a palm-sized bird.
The little bird flapped its wings and flew around him twice, then 'pop!' scattered into points of light.
"Damn it!" Tom slapped his thigh in frustration. "Just a little bit more!"
Rorschach and Raven found a spot on the lawn and sat down, watching the group's antics.