When they'd gone in, the Sentinel was already there—arriving at the exact moment to kill Professor X. The message was simple and terrifying: if the so-called safest room could be breached at will, then nowhere was safe. All hopes fell—awkwardly, inevitably—on the easygoing, bald man.
Magneto hated that feeling, but it was the only play left.
"Lie down here," Shadowcat said, dragging together a cot. Saitama obediently stretched out. Shadowcat placed her palms on his temples. "I'm starting. Relax, follow my lead. We get one shot…"
"Sounds fancy. Okay, let's begin," Saitama said, completely unbothered—whether from courage or simple cluelessness, Shadowcat couldn't tell. If this failed, even a 'successful' jump could cook his brain.
She exhaled and triggered her power.
A flood of images flashed through Saitama's mind—snapped scenes, unthreaded moments—until the world snapped into focus again and he found himself before a quiet townhouse on a bleak street. Few people passed. Wind moved more than traffic did.
A broad-shouldered white man with thick hair and a thicker beard noticed him. "Hey. You need something?"
"I'm looking for Professor X," Saitama said.
He'd been briefed. No, he couldn't just go babysit Bolivar Trask. No, he wouldn't assassinate Mystique. The workable route was to find the Charles and Magneto of this era—though Erik should still be in prison. Charles, at least, could be found at home.
"Professor X? You mean Charles. Come with me," the man said, leading Saitama inside.
The expansion to the estate only emphasized its hollowness—halls a little too long for how empty they sounded, rooms arranged for students who weren't here.
Saitama glanced at his guide as the overlay popped in.
[Name] Henry Philip McCoy
[Codename] Beast
[Stats] Intelligence 5 (genius), Strength 4 (superhuman), Speed 4 (supersonic), Endurance 3 (enhanced), Energy Projection 1 (none), Fighting Skills 4 (experienced fighter)
[Special Ability]
Transformation: Shifts into a bestial state that greatly boosts strength, speed, endurance—and even cognition.
Right. Mutants around an X always made sense.
"So, what do you need with Charles?" Beast asked casually.
"Uh, important stuff…" Saitama scratched the back of his head, vaguely embarrassed. They'd fought once; asking for help after that felt awkward—even for him.
"Important, huh? Good timing. He's… been in a slump."
"A slump? Why?" Saitama asked.
"Vietnam took most of the students," Beast said with a helpless shrug, pushing open a door. "A year ago you wouldn't catch him free, but now… he's got time."
Footsteps on the stairs. "Hank, we have—"
Charles saw Saitama and his face changed. "You!"
Instinct fired. Psychic ripples surged from his hands and slammed into Saitama—who didn't even blink. He didn't dodge, didn't raise a guard, just stood there.
Charles froze. He hadn't planned that blast; it had leapt out of him like a flinch. Ever since witnessing Saitama's power, he'd felt his own painfully insufficient. Then his lover had died before his eyes, and the bottom fell out. In his mind, unchecked mutant power was the root of it all. He'd wanted to moderate mutants—to keep them within lines so coexistence could survive. He hadn't yet become the man who'd force collars onto others—but the path was under his feet.
"Why are you always like this when we meet?" Saitama muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Charles asked, reining himself in. He'd already calculated the outcome of a real fight: he'd lose.
"I'm from the future," Saitama said. "I need a favor."
"The fu—future? How far?" Charles stepped closer despite himself, hungry to know whether any of his choices mattered.
Saitama scratched his head. "Fifty years."
(End of Chapter)
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