'One believer can overcome a legion of godless men. A million believers are invincible.'
Sebastian Thor
All good things come to an end. So did the Christmas holidays. It was time for me to return to the affairs I'd neglected slightly. For one thing, I needed to collect the Fantastic Four's genomes. Victor had already provided the samples. At the same time, it was time to continue improving body and spirit, if one could put it that way.
My languages were more or less under control now, but it would be useful to improve etiquette and various practical skills like shooting and fencing. Not that I knew nothing. Still, I was a long way from deserving the title of Master. When I could put Federico and Lee flat on their backs without entering combat mode and at equal speed, then I might allow myself a little pride. For now... forward, into the pile of accumulated problems.
The first thing I did after returning from vacation was install mental protection on every Councilor. The ladies and gentlemen of the Red Lineage would soon be leaving for their assigned regions. Their current task was fairly simple: smooth out the sharp edges in relations between mutants and humans. For that purpose, they could use any resources—from bribery all the way to physically eliminating the most stubborn idiots.
There was only one restriction. Do not get caught. That shouldn't be difficult. The vampires had possessed combat and reconnaissance teams even before I appeared. Take, for example, those charming fellows they'd quietly been preparing to eliminate Blade. After the upgrades, nobody in his right mind would joke around with those units anymore.
So the Brotherhood was gradually taking shape. We agreed to maintain communications through an encrypted channel kindly provided by von Doom. Anything truly important would be discussed only in person. And now we had somewhere suitable for those meetings.
I'd almost forgotten that Victor von Doom was, technically, the absolute monarch of a small but extremely well-positioned country. In practical terms, we now had a second Switzerland. More precisely, Latveria. No such country had existed in my former world, that was certain. Here, however, it had once been one of the independent German principalities, among the other territories that broke away from the Empire.
Naturally, Papa Bismarck eventually herded it back into a unified German state along with everyone else. Then came the First World War—or rather its aftermath—and the tiny patch of land became independent again. Roughly the same thing happened under Hitler: a few years within the Third Reich, followed by freedom once more among the ruins of Europe.
Surprisingly, through all those twists of history, the monarchy survived. Even the legitimate dynasty survived. Victor was its final representative.
There was no reason to doubt the population's loyalty. People there were ready to carry him around on their shoulders. Hardly surprising. In less than twenty years, he had transformed a poor country nobody cared about into, if not paradise on Earth, then at least a fully viable state with industry, agriculture, and a developed information sector. In short, an excellent location for headquarters.
Its position near the center of Europe was convenient as well. Not that the Brotherhood would rely on a single base. Similar facilities would eventually appear around the world. Smaller strongpoints and caches were planned for almost every city. The vampires already had plenty of experience establishing such places.
Unfortunately, one tiiiny problem was developing. Rumors stubbornly circulated among the Children of the Night about the appearance of a 'Blood God' who could grant his servants all sorts of bonuses—freedom from the centuries-old Thirst, protection from sunlight, and so on. And those rumors were becoming a problem.
Nobody knew who qualified as a 'servant' or what criteria the 'God' used. There were more than enough psychopaths among recent generations of vampires. So temples in my honor began opening around the world. Prayers in ancient languages started rising toward me. That alone would have been harmless. Let the children entertain themselves.
But naturally they didn't stop there. Blood sacrifices began. And orgies. I didn't need that kind of 'fame' even as a free gift. Worse, the whole thing was turning into outright lawlessness, which naturally attracted the attention of hunters.
All this chaos interfered badly with our work and multiplied the Brotherhood's exposure risk. Some of these 'paladins of La Magra' were already known to hunters and could become targets of dedicated pursuit at any moment.
Simply slaughtering the temples was useless too. Destroy one and several more might appear in its place. What was I supposed to do? Honestly, I had no idea. I had not expected anything like this. So the Brotherhood's analysts had to work. They wrestled with the problem for several days before producing an almost classic answer: if you cannot stop the disorder, lead it.
And thus I found myself 'manifesting' inside certain temples in full Nazgûl costume, complete with blood-red wings behind my back. Oh, how many nerves and how much time those wings had cost me. Painful even to remember. Then I gave both worshippers and priests an authoritative verbal beating.
Following the analysts' advice, the temples could be repurposed for recruitment. But first their entire ideology had to change. No more blood sacrifices. Instead, we created an interesting mixture of principles taken from several religions. The central idea was simple: to receive the 'Deity's' blessing, you had to be worthy of it. Therefore, improve yourself. Physically. Spiritually. Intellectually. Only then would the 'God' notice you.
Naturally, not everyone agreed with the new arrangement. A Brotherhood strike team solved that problem quickly and radically. I'm describing everything very compactly, but in reality it consumed a ridiculous amount of time. By the time I had more or less brought the whole mess under control, spring was beginning outside.
At least I hadn't forgotten my private life or my plans. Laura went to Charles's school. But first I installed the mental protection and removed the influence of her trigger. That was a problem in itself. Good thing I'd kept a sample and figured out exactly which pathways it affected. After that I permanently blocked those channels.
I also improved her organism slightly. I was afraid to interfere too deeply. The girl was still growing, and I couldn't predict how major changes would affect her development. I did manage to bypass the rejection problem with Symbiote cells. What hadn't worked with Rogue worked here. The cells simply rebuilt themselves according to Laura's DNA and were accepted by her immune system as 'self.' I'd already fully mapped her genome, which helped.
I didn't change much. I gave her organism the 'anti-psi' property, as I'd started calling Victor's metal effect. Well... I increased strength and speed a little. And who knew what might happen to a child, so armor certainly wouldn't hurt. Hmm. And she'd wanted to learn to fly. So I... Daaamn. How had she managed to con me that thoroughly? Almost the complete package!
When I protested, the little menace merely laughed, kissed me on the cheek, and said: "Thank you, Dad." How do you stay angry after that? She knew exactly what she was doing too. Yeah. At least bringing her enrollment documents to the school turned out to be entertaining.
From the Memories of Charles Xavier.
*********************
The headmaster of the school for gifted children (School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, apparently) read the letter once again. It was probably the tenth time. By now he could have recited it word for word without the paper. The letter came with a full packet of documents: grades for nine years of schooling, a copy of the medical record, and several other necessary forms.
In short, everything normally required to transfer a new student. Including an application from the parents. Or, in this particular case, from one father—an adoptive father, as Charles had already established.
The one thing bothering the headmaster was the new student's surname. Mayer. There was also the fact that normally he found new students himself. Parents did not usually bring them to him. On the other hand... if this was the same Walter Mayer who had managed to drive Logan white-hot using barely a dozen sentences—though that part wasn't especially difficult—and then calm him just as quickly, which was considerably more impressive... Interesting. Where had the man obtained all that information?
Xavier's informants had dug up a few other things. The professor tried to keep his hand on the pulse of world affairs, so he had a respectable intelligence network. His powers made acquiring information easier too. Mayer knew far too much. The Doom Incorporated maneuver alone was enough to prove that. Charles would never believe the timing had been coincidence. And Mayer had connections strong enough that extracting that knowledge from him by force would not be simple.
Rumors about the mercenary who had sold Kimura at auction were still circulating among the right people. Along with the rumor that Kimura had done something to make Mayer very, very unhappy. And that was before considering his obvious connection to the Nazgûl. Yes. Complicated. And now this letter. He clearly knew what the school really was. Which meant the child would not be ordinary either.
What should Charles do? His duty was to care for the girl. But could admitting her create new danger? No. He had to try. But he needed to keep her occupied so thoroughly she had no time for anything dangerous. The director smiled. He already had a suitable candidate for that assignment. And the other students could use a little relief.
The next morning he went out to greet the guest and the possible new student, accompanied by Wolverine, Storm, Cyclops, Jean, and Jubilee Lee. Nobody had actually invited Jubilee. Everyone had simply become accustomed to the fact that the only place one could reliably escape the restless girl was the library. And even there, success wasn't guaranteed.
There was indeed something to see. An expensive car rolled up to the academy entrance. Two people stepped out. A young man with long black hair tied in a ponytail, and a girl about eleven or twelve with exactly the same hairstyle and hair color. Both wore black leather coats that looked somewhat strange in the January cold. It was obvious the girl was imitating the older person.
The telepath tried to sense their emotions. Nothing. Complete emptiness. If he could not see the pair with his own eyes, he would have said nobody stood outside at all. Meanwhile, the guests approached the professor and his group.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Mr. Xavier."
The young man offered the professor his hand. The handshake was firm without any attempt to crush the director's fingers. One might play strength games with Logan, but only a complete idiot or thug would compete physically with an elderly man in a wheelchair. Mayer appeared to be neither. A good sign.
After Xavier, he shook hands with the rest of the delegation. There, strength-testing occurred in earnest. Then he kissed the hands of Jean, Jubilee, and Monroe.
"Allow me to introduce my daughter. Laura Mayer. I hope she will become your student in the future."
And your greatest headache, heh-heh. Laura smiled pleasantly at everyone.
"I must admit, Mr. Mayer, your letter surprised me. Normally we locate students ourselves, so a transfer request was quite unexpected."
"I understand. But what else can one do? You cannot send a gifted child to an ordinary school."
Mayer placed special emphasis on the word 'gifted.' Charles mentally congratulated himself. His reasoning had been correct. Now he merely needed to determine exactly what the girl's gift was and under what conditions she would study.
"I don't think we should stand outside. Please, come in."
The guests were escorted into a comfortable wood-paneled room. The professor felt curiosity directed toward them. Naturally. The students already knew that somebody new might be joining them and were now wondering what unusual abilities the visitors possessed.
While tea and coffee were poured and everyone found seats, Charles noticed the striking similarity between Laura and Logan. Same eye and hair color. The facial features differed slightly, but that was hardly surprising given age and sex. The movements, though... There was a certain predatory grace to the girl. Her adoptive father also moved with unusual smoothness for an ordinary human. Then again... was he ordinary?
"So, Mr. Mayer, could you tell us how exactly your ward is gifted?"
The young man smiled in a particularly sarcastic manner.
"Laura?"
The girl extended her claws. Claws coated with familiar violet metal. The shock in the room could have been cut with a knife. What was happening inside Wolverine was difficult to identify even for someone as experienced as Charles. The professor remembered Logan's claim that Mayer somehow knew him. And now the man had brought a girl who looked remarkably like James and possessed similar abilities.
Only now did Charles notice that the omnipresent Jubilee Lee had attached herself to the group. Which meant the entire school would know about the incident shortly. Right. He needed to send her somewhere immediately. Hmm. He had intended to ask Jubilee to help the new girl settle in anyway. With that restless personality, Laura would have no time for anything too dangerous. Yes. That would work.
"Miss Lee, would you please show our new student around the school and help her choose a room?"
Xavier smiled.
"There it is! Every time something interesting happens, poor little me gets shipped off somewhere." Jubilee ruffled her own hair dramatically. "Siiiigh. Fine. Shall we go?"
Laura looked questioningly at her adoptive father.
"Go ahead, sweetheart. Mr. Xavier and I still have a few details to discuss."
The girl nodded and allowed herself to be dragged away by the energetic mutant. Once the children had left, Mayer stopped smiling. Now the real conversation began.
"I assume you have questions. Ask. I may be able to answer some of them."
"Very well. Let us begin with your ward's education. Our school is a boarding school. Students reside here permanently, and we would prefer not to violate that policy. Naturally, you may take her home during holidays and visit on weekends—"
"Unacceptable." The visitor interrupted the telepath. "I am not leaving my daughter and heir for that length of time in a place incapable of guaranteeing her complete safety."
"I assure you, our school is completely safe," Charles attempted.
"Not long ago, three dozen children were kidnapped from it. Where exactly was the safety then?" Mayer's voice remained calm. "Shall we speak honestly?" The director nodded. "I do not trust people who can rummage around inside other people's brains, no matter how noble the ideas they claim to pursue. Believe me, if not for necessity and certain... precautions, I would never have come here."
"Then why did you come?"
Logan almost growled. He hadn't liked this man the first time they'd met. Still, there was logic in what Mayer said.
"A child needs a normal childhood." The calm answer stopped Wolverine in the middle of his building tirade. "A company of mercenaries, several slightly mad scientists, and a collection of perfectly nice monsters are not exactly what a girl her age needs, wouldn't you agree? It would be useful for her to meet people her own age. Unfortunately, the circumstances of her previous... upbringing do not allow me to send my daughter to an ordinary school. You, however, already have experience helping children with difficult histories return to some kind of normal life."
"You know what happened to her?"
Charles sharpened instantly. This concerned the health of his prospective student. If she entered the school, helping her became his direct responsibility.
"Let us say that the phrase 'abuse' cannot begin to describe what was done to this child."
"Who?"
Wolverine was one step away from grabbing Mayer and physically shaking the information out of him rather than waiting for it one teaspoon at a time.
"Think about it, Mr. Howlett. How many people in this country can obtain enough adamantium to coat a child's claws?" Mayer almost spat the words. "The people who performed the work are dead. The organizers I have not found... yet."
"Speaking of that," the telepath hurried to change the dangerous subject. "Would you care to explain how you know about Logan's past?"
"Let us say that a very long time ago (one might even say in another life) I saw his adventures. Besides, to a certain degree, we are relatives."
Mayer extended his own claws. They differed from Wolverine's only in color and in a set of tiny, almost invisible channels opening onto the blade surfaces. That struck hard. Looking at Logan was painful. For years he'd tried to discover even scraps about his past and had achieved almost nothing. Now some stranger simply walked in and declared them relatives, then produced rather convincing evidence.
"That, however, is our personal matter and has nothing to do with your school. I invited James to visit me, but for some reason he never came."
Now Wolverine gave the professor a dark look. Charles knew why. Logan had not gone to Mayer because the telepath had very strongly advised against it.
"But let us return to Laura and her education. I intend to bring her to school and take her home every day. Fortunately, we live nearby."
"Unfortunately, that is unacceptable to us," Cyclops stepped in to support the professor. "It would place too heavy a burden on the security system."
And the bargaining began. Eventually, the distinguished negotiating parties reached the following compromise: Laura would live at the school during the week. Her father would take her home on weekends. She would keep a phone with her at all times so they could contact each other if necessary. Agreed. In gratitude for the inconvenience, Mayer transferred a considerable sum to the school's account.
Nobody had asked for it or even hinted at payment. That gesture earned approval from the teaching staff. What he and Wolverine later arranged privately, Xavier did not know. That genuinely was their personal business.
Then Mayer himself was given a tour of the school. Naturally, nobody took him into secret facilities, but the publicly accessible areas left a favorable impression. And that was that. The father said goodbye to his daughter, arranged a time for their next call, and left.
While the Adults Discussed Their Problems, the Children Explored the School.
"Let's introduce ourselves properly. The first meeting was weird. So! Allow me to present Jubilation Lee. Though you'd better call me Jubes or Lee. Athlete, extreme-sports enthusiast, beauty, genius, and generally wonderful person. Oh, and modest too. For some reason nobody appreciates that. Even Anna's been floating around in dreams lately. Boring..."
"My name is Laura Mayer. Just Laura is fine."
The girl managed to insert the sentence into her companion's machine-gun stream.
"Great! Now we know each other. Come on, I'll show you everything. Nobody knows this school better than me. Not even the teachers!"
She had escaped from them through enough tangled corridors to qualify as an expert. The tour lasted several hours. The children visited the pool, sports complex, classrooms, the grounds around the school, and finally the dormitory building.
"Want to go choose your room?"
"I'm not sure I'll be living here, but we can look just in case."
"It's fun here. You'll definitely like it. The guys are always doing something, and I don't exactly sit around with folded hands. Oh! Why don't you move into our Dead End of Terror?"
"Dead End of Terror?"
"Well... that's what the others call the end of the corridor where Anna and I live. I'll introduce you later. There are three rooms there, and one is empty."
"Why exactly the Dead End of Terror?"
Laura continued questioning her.
"Uh... you see, for some reason people call me the Terror of the school." Jubilee admitted it with slight embarrassment. "And the place where I live became the Dead End of Terror."
"I see."
Laura shrugged melancholically.
"Then show me this Dead End."
The available room turned out surprisingly bright and comfortable. It had its own bathroom with an actual bathtub and shower, and all the necessary furniture. All Laura needed was bedding.
"So? What do you think?"
"Quite acceptable. I think I could live here."
"Awesome! My room is right next to yours, and Anna's is directly across the hall. Get settled in. Tonight we'll go collect all the useful little things you're supposed to receive."
"Sure. Assuming I actually live here."
Soon her father returned and informed her of the achieved consensus. So yes. She really could settle in. Before leaving, he advised her not to destroy the school during the first week. At least wait a month. Laura promised to think about the proposal and began unpacking.
The first thing she did was arrange her figurines and place her laptop—along with its collections—on the desk.
"Whoa. What's that?"
Jubilee asked.
"Oh. 'Bleach' figures."
Laura waved a hand.
"Uh... what does bleach have to do with anything?"
"Not bleach. It's an anime. Easier to show you." Laura was pleased to have found something that surprised her new acquaintance. "Look."
She started the first episode. Two Hours Later.
"Whoa... that's awesome!" Jubilee's enthusiasm knew no limits. "We have to show the others! There's a little home theater downstairs. You don't mind, right?"
"I don't see why I would. The story is genuinely interesting... and I can meet everyone at the same time."
"Exactly! We gather downstairs in the evenings anyway. Kind of a tradition. By the way, I wanted to ask—are you related to Instructor Logan?"
"I don't think so." Laura darkened slightly, then recovered. "Shall we go?"
"Yep! Come on!"
The two girls left the room. One carried a flash drive containing the first episodes of 'Bleach.' Professor Xavier's school was about to experience serious problems.
Walter Mayer. Completely Exhausted.
***************
"Tell me, Never, what am I doing wrong? The harder I work toward a quiet and peaceful life in complete comfort, the harder I have to work. I created an organization capable of solving most problems for me, and now the organization has problems too. The cultists alone..."
"Caaaw. Master, what did you expect? Life is a struggle for survival. It always has been."
The raven turned toward me and studied me with one black eye. Hmm. Trying to modify his mind the way I'd modified Felicia's cat hadn't been a mistake after all. A few physical upgrades had been necessary too. With my lifestyle, an ordinary bird would have died by day three.
Something had gone slightly wrong, though. The raven had become much too intelligent. Sometimes I got the impression he was already over a thousand years old. Possibly several thousand. I had named him Never. He reminded me far too strongly of the winged messenger who drove the protagonist of Edgar Allan Poe's poem insane. At least he was genuinely interesting to talk to.
The feathered philosopher occasionally produced thoughts that made even my brain start boiling. Where had he learned all this? Although... I suspected Storm's abilities, which I'd transferred into the bird, might be involved.
Speaking of recent acquisitions. After interacting with almost the elite of mutant society, I had collected a great deal of interesting material. Let's begin with the least tasty item: Jubilee's ability. What can one say? The fireworks were impressive. If I added enough energy, a single salvo could destroy a tank. Unfortunately, the amount of energy required would probably exceed what I'd spend dismantling the tank and its crew by hand.
Far more interesting was the energy supply. The girl collected it from sunlight. The efficiency was astonishing. Conventional solar panels convert roughly five to twenty percent, and twenty is already near the limit, often difficult to achieve even under laboratory conditions. Jubilee's organism converted approximately sixty percent of incoming solar radiation. More than that, it stored the energy continuously. That explained why she had no trouble throwing fireworks around. Her internal reserve could support two or three hours of nonstop light show at ordinary output before she finally collapsed from exhaustion.
Even more interesting: the body used that stored energy for nothing except the mutant ability itself. Which meant the girl could carry inside her enough energy to run a medium-sized solar plant for a week and still die of starvation if denied ordinary food.
Cyclops had a similar arrangement. He also absorbed energy from sunlight. His conversion efficiency was closer to ninety percent. Almost Symby level. Of course, Symbiote could absorb and convert practically any radiation—from nuclear radiation to heat—while Summers was specifically tied to light. Still impressive. Cyclops also had an energy-storage mechanism, again more advanced than Jubilee's. Yet it too was dedicated only to the mutant power and did nothing to remove the need for food or sleep.
All of that, however, was secondary. The main prize was the eyes. And there everything was excellent. Enormous destructive output. Compared with it, my lightning looked like harmless sparklers. No. Wrong analogy. My lightning was a seventeenth-century muzzle-loading musket. Cyclops's eyes were at least an AK. Naturally, even this barrel of honey had a spoonful of tar.
Poor Cyclops. If he constantly saw the world through a red emitter filter... Well. I spent a long time correcting my own vision, installing filters, and making sure the modifications didn't break the ability.
More time went into figuring out how to switch it on and off. Fortunately, that control mechanism existed in the genome. It simply had not fully awakened in Cyclops himself. But I achieved the important result. I could now genuinely incinerate someone with a look.
I didn't stop after 'transplanting the dōjutsu.' Jubilee Lee's and Scott Summers's powers used several very similar mechanisms performing analogous functions. In their original forms, they couldn't both fit into the same organism. Literally. So I spent a very long time adapting the girl's offensive mechanism to the other energy architecture.
The architecture itself required extensive tuning too. Contradictions between genomes had to be identified and removed. Certain components were replaced with more advanced equivalents from other mutations I'd accumulated. By myself, I probably would never have solved the problem. Praise the Great Darkness, I had such magnificent tools as combat mode and Symby's instincts, which handled many of those tasks automatically.
Even so, the calibration took almost an order of magnitude more time and effort than everything else combined. And during the process I abandoned several abilities because synchronizing them with the full package was too difficult. Lightning and metal claws, for example, were retired. My Inner Hamster mourned. Paranoia defeated him. If necessary, I could grow the metal parts separately and graft them back fairly quickly.
In exchange, I no longer had to worry about someone using magnetic fields against my body. I also had to give up the ice temporarily. There were insurmountable conflicts between genomes. Something was clearly missing that would allow the whole structure to harmonize. If I really wanted, I could still freeze something by touching it. Throwing icicles, however, was no longer possible.
That wasn't the important part. I retained the ability to draw energy out of the surrounding environment instantly. Which meant I could function as an extremely powerful refrigerator, smoothly transitioning into a flamethrower on stage two. After the redesign, the attacks from my hands changed dramatically. The beam wasn't as intimidating as the one from my eyes, but it was no longer the yellowish firework that, at minimum power, might melt some plastic if it was lucky.
Overall, the result was very respectable. The crater in the center of the test range testified eloquently to that fact. I'd just fired an overcharged beam from my palm into it. The beam was dark crimson, almost the color of fresh blood. No. Better not show Laura. She'd torment me until I installed something similar in her. Besides, it looked far too much like the unforgettable Cero. She'd mock me to death.
My thoughts were interrupted by Kurt rushing onto the test range. After the danger passed, he had remained employed by Doom. The salary was more than generous. His family had moved out of their small apartment in a mediocre district and into a large house on Victor's corporate grounds. There was practically a small town for employees there: schools, hospitals, kindergartens—everything. As for the laboratory provided to the Doc... Kurt was ready to move into it permanently. He hadn't abandoned teaching, however. Now Connors traveled to the university twice a week to give lectures and practical classes.
Speaking of university. I'd catastrophically run out of time for it. But with the fundamentals already learned and a crowd of specialists available as consultants on nearly any subject... I simply passed everything externally. Afterward I happily escaped into writing my doctoral thesis under Kurt's supervision. I'd tried to dodge that. No chance. The Doc latched on like a tick. He looked over the destruction and winced painfully.
"Second test range in two days. Walter, why do you need all of this? With your abilities you could change the world for the better. Eliminate hunger. Disease—"
There went the Doc again. The man had been through a war and still remained a dreamer and, in some ways, a romantic. Better that than becoming bitter and hard.
"Kurt, I understand all of that perfectly. But tell me something. Suppose there were a medicine that cost pennies and could cure everything—including old age. What would happen?"
"World War Three." Kurt's expression darkened. "Everyone would want control of it. Exclusive control."
"Exactly. So forgive me if I don't distribute happiness free of charge to everyone. Right now I need enough capability to defend myself and my family."
"And what quantity of power would you consider enough?"
The scientist raised an eyebrow.
"When I can speak as an equal with truly Great Powers."
I smiled.
"Severe case."
Kurt snorted.
"Very severe, caaaw," confirmed the raven sitting on my shoulder.
I'd completely forgotten him while absorbed in the experiment.
"Correct me if I'm mistaken." Kurt became abruptly serious. "There is a talking raven sitting on your shoulder."
"Yep."
"Caw!"
"And it is intelligent enough to understand human speech and perhaps maintain a conversation?"
"Yep."
"Caw!"
"Ah. Then everything's fine. For a moment I thought I'd accidentally gone insane. But it's just another one of your experiments. Fine, then. I'll go. I still have a couple of experiments waiting..."
The Doc left the test range with a slightly unsteady gait. What had surprised him so much? Mutants, monsters from space, and ordinary terrorist lunatics didn't bother him. But one perfectly ordinary talking raven caused shock. Scientists are strange people. I shrugged and returned to examining the new goodies.
I'd already figured out most things indirectly. But since I had time, it was better to understand them properly. Otherwise I'd repeat the bird incident: stick Storm's abilities into something without understanding them thoroughly, and end up with Never sitting on my shoulder staring intelligently at the world.
Next came the abilities of one disabled professor and one redheaded telepath. This was where everything became a complete disaster. Energy-based mutant abilities were comparatively easy to use. Most reduced to a simple on/off state or operated continuously. Telepathy and psionics were much more complicated.
At present, the only clear benefit I'd received from the professor's DNA was improved sensitivity of my cells. Now I could sense every piece of myself over a very broad area. I suspected that if I 'shouted' through them—hammering surrounding minds with raw terror and negativity—the entire city might go hang itself.
But reading thoughts or performing Xavier's more delicate tricks? No. That required learning. Learning, and then more learning. And I doubted the old man in the wheelchair would be delighted to accept a student like me. Certainly not for free.
Jean had given me telekinesis in addition to telepathy. It was vaguely similar to my levitation control. Except instead of assigning a movement vector to living cells, the vector was applied to an imaginary limb that performed the work. It required raw mental strength and processing power. In a normal state, I could move several rocks weighing roughly a hundred kilograms each. My reach wasn't impressive, and a headache appeared quickly. But the moment I entered combat mode... Well.
Jean's Phoenix from the latest X-Men movie illustrated the possibilities quite nicely. Recovering afterward took a long time too. The problem with psionics wasn't energy starvation. I'd call it mental fatigue. A thoroughly unpleasant condition. Light calming music and huge supplies of tea helped.
Finally came the last and most important acquisition: Storm's power. Oh. This was something else. The white-haired woman turned out to be a more powerful telepath than Charles. More precisely, an empath—but 'tuned,' if one can put it that way, to a different frequency. I'd suspected the world possessed a Soul. Now I was completely certain.
Calling it intelligent wouldn't be quite correct, at least from our perspective. It was more like an energetic heart controlling every process on the planet. From light rain and fog all the way to tsunamis and volcanic eruptions. And Storm could 'ask' the world to do what she wanted. The farther such a 'request' deviated from normal natural behavior in the relevant region, the more power it required.
Strangely, I adapted to the ability very quickly. I could even estimate the energy cost of different actions. The results were delicious. had enough power to create a volcano in a place where no volcano had ever existed. Afterward I'd resemble a squeezed lemon, admittedly. Still. Very respectable. What an unusual ability. Its efficiency was highly dependent on geography.
Creating a tiny rain shower in the center of the Sahara cost far more than producing a catastrophic tsunami near Japan. That's how things stood. Then something pricked at my awareness. What now? Right. A portion of my cells had simply disappeared from this world.
Strangely, I had not lost my connection to them. I merely couldn't determine where they'd gone. A couple of hours later, the cells returned to the world. I immediately checked where they'd been wandering. Thank you, Comrade Xavier, for the upgraded connection range.
Woooow. What a strange place. It looked a little like Outland from 'Warcraft.' The same islands of land floating in emptiness. The same oddly colored sky. Except instead of Illidan in the Black Temple, there was some incomprehensible man with a burning head. Spider-Man and another strange fellow, perhaps thirty-five or forty, with gray beginning to touch his hair, were fighting him. The unknown man threw rays and fireballs with impressive skill while constantly muttering something under his breath.
Could this be Doctor Strange himself? Things were becoming more interesting. Why had they gone after the burning-headed man in the first place? Oh. Apparently while I was wrestling with my own cult, some sectarians had managed to brainwash Mary Jane. Tsk. And I'd missed the whole thing completely. A pity.
It would have been useful to rummage around in the local leader's brain. He knew a great many interesting tricks too. Right. What was Spider-Man going to do now with his new friend? Oh fuuuuck. Damn it. I needed to get to the university immediately.
Meanwhile, Doctor Strange.
****************************
It had been a difficult affair. Without the help of his unexpected ally, matters might have ended badly for both the doctor and the city as a whole. But everything had worked out. Mordo would no longer cause harm. And the cursed demon Dormammu would remain dying inside his own dimension. Once again, the forces of Good had prevailed and allowed this world to keep living. Until next time.
"I believe it is time for us to part, Spider-Man. It was an honor to fight at your side."
"Wait! Doctor, could I ask one small favor?"
"How may I help?"
"You see, one of my good friends has saved my life several times. He's always dreamed of meeting a real magician. He might even ask to become a student, though I'm not sure. He's a good person. Could you speak with him?"
Strange considered. Spider-Man had proven himself admirably. His request deserved to be honored, especially since it demanded no extraordinary effort. And eventually the doctor needed an apprentice—a successor to the cause of Good who might one day stand beside him in the battle for the World. Could this be the hand of fate? If Spider-Man's friend possessed no talent for magic, that was hardly a disaster. 11Maintaining good relations with an ally was worth some effort regardless.
"Very well. I will gladly fulfill your request. But first let us return this maiden home."
Strange nodded toward the red-haired beauty pressed close to the red-and-blue hero. The maiden in question blushed slightly and pressed herself more firmly against Spider-Man. After delivering the girl home, the unusual pair headed toward the university.
It was deep into the night. Peter knew Walter often stayed in the laboratory at such hours. Kurt had trained him harshly, and in terms of obsession with science the student had not fallen far behind the teacher. Indeed, a light burned in the laboratory's upper window. Glassware clinked. Muffled curses sounded in an unfamiliar language—but in a familiar voice.
The magician and Spider-Man flew through the open window and encountered a curious sight. A young man in a black leather coat—lab coats were apparently not his style—was quietly swearing to himself while fighting several bottles of something alcoholic. A raven perched on his shoulder, shifting impatiently from foot to foot and watching the bottles with great interest.
"Ahem."
The mutant announced his presence.
"Oh, Spider-Man! Long time no see. You haven't been around in ages. Come in, you're just in time—I discovered certain reserves!"
"Uh... no!"
The hero actually stepped backward. Strange found this somewhat surprising.
"I swore I'd never drink with Russians... or Germans. Especially you!"
"And these are today's superheroes." The young man affected disappointment. "Afraid to enter battle against the terrible monster known as the 'Green Serpent.'" He sighed theatrically. "Incidentally, last time the 'Serpent' won. Fine. More for me. By the way, perhaps you'll introduce me to your friend? Otherwise this is getting impolite."
"Yes, of course. Doctor Strange, allow me to introduce my friend Walter Mayer, future star of biology and genetics. Walter, this is Doctor Strange—Master of the Mystic Arts."
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Strange."
"The pleasure is mine, young man." The doctor smiled. "I hear you are interested in magic?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, until now I've met only stage magicians and frauds. So I had to abandon hope and go into science instead."
"Do not despair. Magic truly exists. Your friend asked me to show you."
"Oh, Spider-Man, thank you very much. I owe you a bottle!"
Mayer smiled.
"Please don't." The mutant whispered almost inaudibly. "The liver isn't made of iron."
"Oh, want an iron one? That's easy."
"No!"
Spider-Man backed away under the geneticist's mocking look.
"Very well. I think we should begin."
The doctor decided to demonstrate a few simple magical techniques. Simple, but spectacular. The audience appreciated them. Especially the illusions and phantoms.
At the same time, Strange decided to examine the potential student with his inner sight. He looked. And nearly recoiled in horror. There was plenty to fear. The energetic traces suggested that the body's previous owner had simply been devoured. Something truly terrifying now lived in his place. Dormammu suddenly seemed much less troublesome. Before the magician's sight appeared the soul of a creature that had once been human. But now... It was wrapped in primordial Darkness. Bound to it. Gradually changing. Becoming... what? Strange wasn't certain he wanted the answer.
Yet Darkness was not the same as Evil, despite the tendency of dark mages toward it. Could this be a spontaneously initiated magician? A dark one, and an extremely powerful one at that? Possible. If so, Strange's duty was to direct him toward Good while his soul still retained the last remnants of humanity.
But there was another possibility. Some creature might have broken into this world from another dimension. He needed to learn more about Mayer. And apprenticeship was an excellent excuse to do exactly that. Decision made. I will take him as my student. I hope I do not regret it.