Los Angeles, Ronald Reagan Medical Center.
David, wearing a straitjacket, was pushed into the consultation room by a burly Black orderly. Due to his previous violent behavior, his movements had to be restrained. In fact, if not for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s orders, he would have been sentenced to life imprisonment for murder, or perhaps even sent to the electric chair.
Sean sized up this Mutant with Omega-level potential. He was merely a young man in his twenties, with gaunt cheeks and pale skin, as though he had not seen sunlight in a very long time.
Most striking were his eyes. They seemed hollow and clouded, yet complex emotions churned within them.
This time, David was not received by Doctor Kissinger. Instead, there was a bald old man in a wheelchair and a young man with a gentle smile, making him instinctively wary.
"Hello, David. I'm Charles."
The professor's gaze was complicated. With only a slight use of his Mind Power, he could sense something familiar in David—the chaotic, fragmented brainwaves and swiftly shifting thoughts.
There was no doubt that David was a psychic.
But after probing more carefully, an unbelievable look appeared in the bald old man's eyes. In his mental world, there was more than one David sitting before him!
The entire consultation room was filled with people: old men, children, men, women... They wore different expressions and had different appearances. Some chattered endlessly, some muttered under their breath, and some shouted at the top of their lungs. The clamor became disordered thoughts that filled David's mind.
"How did you manage it?"
Pity showed in Charles's eyes. He had experienced that kind of suffering and understood exactly how unbearable it was.
When the bald professor's powers had first awakened, he had been unable to control them. The voices in the minds