The Ability I Want Most For Now

"Huh?!"

"Fuck, you're insane!"

The heavy steamroller bore down. Sabretooth's eyes went wide as he struggled desperately to roll away, but he couldn't move.

He could only lie there, fear flooding his mind and body. Agitated, he cursed and watched in terror as the massive steel drum rolled closer and closer.

Until death loomed before him, mercilessly crushing him!

"Ah..."

Crack, crack, crack!

In the dead of night, on an empty construction site, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the silence, echoing far and wide.

Accompanied by the crunch of breaking bones, Sabretooth was ground into pulp.

"You were right. The process is a bit boring."

A few minutes later, Ron drove the steamroller back and forth, as if flattening a giant cookie.

His expression was calm, even dull, as he remarked on his boredom to the unrecognizable mess on the ground that was Sabretooth.

It was like a scene straight out of a deranged killer's horror story.

If anyone had shown up right then, they might have pissed their pants on the spot.

Half an hour.

A full half-hour of rolling.

Whenever the thing on the ground started to regain a vague human shape, he'd roll over it again. It took thirty minutes before Sabretooth finally died.

Flesh and blood couldn't outlast steel after all. Over a hundred full-body regenerations drained his healing factor dry in no time.

Ability Points increased by 2,500.

Sabretooth wasn't supposed to die at this point. He was meant to stay active for decades, locked in an endless feud with his brother Wolverine, and even take part in Magneto's Major Event to turn humans into mutants.

Though his role wasn't irreplaceable.

But now he was dead. Fate had already changed.

"Not bad. Almost broke even."

This was just the beginning.

"Got my ticket. Time to get ready for the show."

He straightened his clothes, cast one last glance at Sabretooth's corpse—something that could give anyone nightmares for a long time—and turned to leave.

Super-speed regeneration was strong, but even Magneto, who didn't hesitate to stir up global chaos, had been captured by the military more than once, toyed with, and used as an experiment. What was Sabretooth in comparison?

If the military hadn't wanted to keep him alive for their own purposes, he'd have been dead long ago.

Using nothing but everyday objects, Ron had no fewer than a dozen ways to kill Sabretooth.

"Excuse me. My name is Charles Xavier." "Erik Lehnsherr."

In a bar, a young Magneto, Erik, and Professor X, Charles, approached a man with a Wolverine-style haircut. They had just smiled and introduced themselves when—

"Fuck off!"

The man had a cigar clamped between his teeth. He took a drag without even turning around, spat out a cold curse, refused to communicate, and rudely told them to get lost.

"..."

Their expressions froze. They exchanged a glance and had no choice but to leave.

Outside the bar.

Charles shrugged helplessly.

"That fellow was way too rude. We didn't even get a word in before he told us to get lost. No way to talk to him."

"I don't know why, but let's find someone else."

Erik frowned.

What was up with that guy? Did he swallow gunpowder? Or was he always that arrogant?

"Maybe it's because his sharp nose picked up the mixed scents on both of you."

A slightly teasing voice came from nearby.

"He thought you two were a couple of queers trying to drag him into some fun. Disgusted, he told you to piss off."

That man was Wolverine. Right now, he was having his one and only shining moment against Magneto—cursing out the young Magneto without a second thought. Once Stryker turned him into the real Wolverine, every encounter with Magneto would end in humiliation.

Today, he couldn't be bothered and spat out his disgust. Before long, Magneto would teach him what it meant to "take it and leave it."

"Huh?"

The two turned to look. A handsome young man was leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed.

"Queers? We're not—"

Hearing this, Charles quickly defended himself. Known as a playboy on campus, he didn't want anyone misunderstanding his orientation.

"I know you're not."

Ron walked over, smiling.

"Not yet, anyway..."

He added.

The two before him were a younger Magneto and Professor X, who had only recently met, brought together by a common enemy—Sebastian Shaw.

Using Cerebro, built by Beast Hank, Professor X pulled Magneto along as they searched for fellow mutants willing to join them against Shaw.

Erik, whose mother was killed by Shaw when he was a child, wanted revenge, while Charles aimed to stop Shaw's plot to trigger World War III and save the world.

"Oh, what do you mean 'not yet'? We're friends, but we'll never be that kind of relationship."

Erik's brow furrowed deeper, silent. Charles waved his hands repeatedly, emphasizing with concern.

If he got labeled as gay, all those pretty ladies would stay far away from him.

Ron studied the two.

Erik now and Magneto later weren't much different, except for a long-suppressed gloom between his brows—a lone wolf long living in darkness and pain, lacking the seasoned leadership of old age.

Charles, on the other hand, was far from the saintly, radiant bald Professor X.

Young Professor X was more a mix of scholar and playboy than a calm, kind sage, and he wasn't yet the bald icon of strength from his later years.

Thick, curly brown hair swept back, scholarly yet untamed.

"Didn't expect to run into another fellow mutant right after being mistaken and rejected by one."

Charles, mid-defense, seemed to spot something pleasantly surprising, sizing Ron up.

With telepathy and mental control, he could sense nearby mutants.

In his perception, Ron was a mutant, just like their target for recruitment.

"I'm Charles."

A friendly smile spread across his face as he extended a sincere hand.

"Erik."

A fellow mutant? Erik's eyes locked on, stating his name.

"Ron."

After shaking hands with Charles, Ron introduced himself succinctly, his style closer to Magneto's.

"Huh, I can sense you, but I can't read your mind."

Looking at Ron, Charles suddenly looked startled.

He'd only met one other person whose thoughts he couldn't penetrate—White Queen Emma by Shaw's side. But Emma was a powerful psionic.

This fellow mutant wasn't, lacking any mental abilities. How was this possible?

"You're probing my thoughts?"

The system could spend Ability Points to block detection of his memories and thoughts, keeping the system's existence hidden—its most basic rule and function for protecting the host.

Glancing at the hundreds of points deducted, his face darkened instantly.

"Sorry, Ron, I didn't mean to."

Caught red-handed, and seeing the new fellow mutant's clear resistance, Charles gave an awkward smile and quickly apologized.

The current Professor X wasn't as steady as his older self, who respected others and exercised self-restraint.

Young Charles would immediately use his powers to dig into others' memories and thoughts whenever curious—it was almost instinct.

Knowing this well and prepared to spend Ability Points, Ron had anticipated it and stayed calm inside, but he still put on this act.

Only this way could he make Charles curb such behavior.

"Charles, I've said it before—no one likes having their past rifled through or every thought exposed."

At this, Erik recalled his own experience of having his memories read, his tone cold and displeased.

"Uh, I won't do it again."

Facing their oppressive stares, the future Professor X, Charles, was deeply embarrassed, apologizing and promising repeatedly.

"Ahem, fellow mutant, we're saving the world. Want to join?"

Then, changing the subject, he winked at Ron and delivered that cool line used to recruit other mutants.

Saving the world—how awesome was that? He believed no one could refuse.

Who hadn't dreamed of saving the world as a kid?

A few days later, CIA secret base.

Nighttime, in a room meant for agents to relax.

Sitting at the bar, Ron slowly savored a glass of whiskey, watching the group of people seated on the sofas by the floor-to-ceiling windows and shaking his head faintly.

"My name's Raven. What are your names, and what are your powers? I've decided to give myself a codename—Mystique!"

Equally young and green, Mystique—who had grown up alongside Charles—along with Beast Hank, who handled research at the base, and the other mutants Professor X had recruited, excitedly introduced themselves to one another, like they were at some kind of social mixer.

"A bunch of giggling, immature, edgy kids who have no clue how serious things are. They think getting recruited into some special CIA division to 'save the world' is cool."

He'd accepted the so-called invitation to save the world, alongside the future Magneto and Professor X, and returned with them to a temporary CIA black site.

Not because saving the world was some epic thrill, but because he needed to disrupt fate and earn Ability Points.

Once he'd pinned down the timeline of the X-Men universe, he immediately locked onto a target for acquiring powers.

A glint of heat flickered in Ron's eyes as he took a sip of his drink.

"In this era of the X-Men universe, the person whose power I want most isn't Magneto with his magnetic fields, or Professor X with his telepathy—it's Black King Sebastian Shaw!"

The mutant Black King, ruler of the Hellfire Club, possessed the ability to absorb all forms of energy—kinetic, thermal, electrical, nuclear—and convert them into his own power or release them at will.

He once drained the entire nuclear output of a submarine's reactor dry.

A supervillain so formidable that, in the end, it took both Magneto and Professor X working together to barely outsmart and defeat him.

And he... would be arriving soon.