Faith

Donnie drove, making his way from the suburbs into New York City. New York was as bustling as ever, with skyscrapers standing shoulder to shoulder, spread out like stars. On the streets, pedestrians hurried past, busy with their own affairs.

This was the norm in New York City; to live in this international metropolis, a fast-paced lifestyle was essential. Even if the sky fell, it wouldn't stop the daily routines of New Yorkers.

From time to time, you could see protest marches in New York City, or people giving speeches with megaphones by the roadside; this was also normal.

This "normal" was disrupted by an unexpected event today.

Ahead, a large crowd had gathered, with citizens watching intently.

A scrawny, dried-up man stood on a stage, looking like he could be blown over by a gust of wind. Anyone would believe that a single punch could knock this skinny man down.

The skinny man was giving a speech, claiming to be the strongest mercenary in the world, with a distinguished record.

"Do you guys know that Donnie? The mutant who's been really popular lately? He's a defeated opponent of mine!" the skinny man shamelessly declared, his tone forceful, as if he had everything under control.

People didn't believe him and pointed fingers. Donnie, who had been wondering if this guy was still alive, turned pale upon hearing this.

"You don't believe me? Just a while ago, that mutant was beaten and ran away with his tail between his legs, you know? I did that!" The skinny man made a ball-bouncing motion, speaking righteously, "I only used one hand, and he fell instantly, unable to withstand a single blow."

The skinny man spoke rapidly, coughing a couple of times, making people worry he might cough up a lung and drop dead right there on the streets of New York.

Donnie's expression darkened. He secretly blended into the crowd and, seizing an opportunity, pinched his nose and shouted, "What about that mutant? You defeated him?"

The skinny man's body trembled, and his spirit revived. "He ran away. I punched him and he ran off, too scared to show his face again. I will protect the citizens of New York!"

The skinny man declared he would be responsible for the safety of New York citizens.

"Anyone who hires me now gets a 20% discount!" the skinny man shouted.

A dismissive chuckle rippled through the crowd. With that frail body, who would need protection from someone who could be knocked down with a single punch?

"Kid, do you want to hire me?" The skinny man saw a child a few years old walking by and quickly ran over.

The child turned and walked away.

Donnie saw two police officers watching the spectacle nearby and walked over to ask them, "Is what this guy is doing legal?"

"At least it's not illegal," one of the officers shrugged, enjoying the show.

The other officer told Donnie that the skinny man's speech had been approved by their department. Protests and demonstrations in New York City required permits from a specific department to ensure these individuals wouldn't be interfered with by patrolling officers.

"Anyone want to hire me? 30% off! 40% off is fine too!" Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, the skinny man lowered his price and then sighed softly, thinking that citizens these days were getting harder to fool.

Among the crowd were people who had fought alongside the skinny man. They almost covered their faces and walked away, too embarrassed to be recognized by him.

The skinny man began another round of self-promotion, his every word revolving around the glorious past of defeating Donnie, which made Donnie want to beat him to death.

The audience heckled him, mocking the fact that even a top mercenary was being ignored.

The skinny man grew anxious, pushing into the crowd and explaining his bravery everywhere, giving Donnie an opportunity to approach him.

Donnie weaved left and right, quietly getting closer to the skinny man, and with a cold smile, pulled out the piece of Vibranium he had been carrying.

Finding the right moment, while the skinny man was off guard, Donnie brought the Vibranium down hard on his head!

Crack!

The skinny man's eyes widened, foam spewed from his mouth, and he collapsed in despair.

The crowd erupted in cheers. The two police officers, having had their fill of the spectacle, cheerfully came forward to clear the scene and drag the skinny man away.

Many citizens whispered as they walked away, sharing their opinions, which Donnie also overheard.

"Are all mercenaries like this nowadays? It's terrifying," one citizen remarked.

"Mercenaries aren't what they used to be; the world is getting more dangerous. Did you know that the Italian mafia and the Chinatown gangs had a fight a while back?"

"I heard about it."

"They both hired the same guy, and he ended up kidnapping both their bosses, claiming he'd help whoever paid more take out the other boss."

"Wow, society is truly wicked..."

The citizen spoke at length, recounting how the two bosses had engaged in a fierce bidding war on the spot, emptying their coffers. In the end, the Chinatown boss won, using his trump card, ultimately bidding a few hundred dollars more to save his life.

Someone asked what his trump card was.

"The Chinatown boss broke off his gold tooth, while the Italian boss didn't have a gold tooth," the citizen said.

Donnie listened with great interest. Hearing these common folk's opinions made Donnie feel like he was still the ordinary person he used to be, working hard to transport goods when there was work, and chatting idly when there wasn't. He hadn't achieved anything remarkable, but he cherished the peace and tranquility.

However, Donnie had stepped into a new circle, and he could never go back, nor would he ever be able to.

This was an era of great contention. Having risen above the mundane world, there was no chance of returning.

If you don't fight, you die!

Driving all the way, casually handling a routine check by a street cop, Donnie finally returned to his house, a small house located in New York.

He no longer had a home. This used to be home, but now it was just a house. At least, that's how Donnie felt about it.

He was all alone; where was his home?

He opened the door and walked in. Donnie looked at everything in the house – familiar yet strange, still so small yet tidy, everything as it was, exactly as in his memory, as if nothing had happened.

Donnie sighed deeply. He wanted to say something to himself, but he gave up, slumping onto the sofa.

On the table, there was a letter. In the corner of the letter, the sender was marked: Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Donnie opened and read it. The letter was from Professor X, inviting Donnie to study at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, hoping he would continue his education instead of dropping out to earn money like before.

At the end of the letter, Professor X wrote: "I sincerely hope to meet my people, and we can have a good talk."

Donnie sighed, resealed the letter, and carefully placed it in a box. This was the X-Men extending an invitation, hoping he wouldn't side with Magneto.

To put it more plainly, Professor X was hinting that even if he didn't attend Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, he shouldn't join the Brotherhood.

Professor X's caution was justified; he and Professor X were not on the same path.

Donnie had no intention of joining either side. He was no match for either the bald professor or Magneto. If he really had to choose, he'd rather pick Magneto.

The reason was simple: if Professor X, out of curiosity, read the memories in his mind, what would be the consequences? Would he suffer a mental breakdown and die as he had in his past life?