Truth be told, the target wasn't that strong—but he was a pain to deal with.
Because his power was speed.
Quicksilver.
Charles stepped forward and knocked. After a short wait, a middle-aged woman opened the door, her expression sour. "What do you want?"
"Uh, I'd like to talk to him," Charles said. This wasn't his first visit; last time, he'd erased the woman's memory. She didn't remember him at all.
"What did he do?" Her face tightened at once.
Beast produced an ID—police credentials. Fake, of course. Charles had forged them.
"Fine." She nodded and led the three inside.
Saitama glanced around, curious, while Charles guided them straight to the basement like he knew the way.
From below came the rhythmic tap of a ping-pong rally. When Saitama saw what was happening, he stopped short. Only one person was playing.
A silver-haired teenager. He served on one side of the table and, in the same heartbeat, appeared on the other side to smash the ball back.
Saitama's eyes brightened. Fast.
The boy kept zipping around, calling out between hits, "Wasn't me. Haven't left the house in three days. So it definitely wasn't me."
[Name] Pietro Django Maximoff
[Codename] Quicksilver
[Stats] Intelligence 3 (normal); Strength 2 (normal); Speed 7 (faster than light); Endurance 2 (normal); Energy Projection 1 (none); Fighting Skills 4 (experienced)
[Abilities]
Super-speed movement: Easily reaches several hundred thousand kilometers per hour; can run on water and up vertical walls. Body far tougher than normal—bones withstand shattering impacts; Achilles tendons harder than steel. Can short-hop "fly" by vibrating limbs and generate cyclones to evade bullets and lasers. Can phase through matter by vibrating at high frequency.
Saitama's interest faded a notch. If the kid hit harder, they might actually spar. Speed was great, but with that level of strength, even if Saitama stood still and let him swing all day, he wouldn't scratch him.
"Relax. We're not here to bust you," Charles said.
Saitama cut in, blunt as ever. "We want your help to break someone out of prison."
"That's a crime. I like breaking rules, not committing felonies," the boy said. He was a minor; to him, law-breaking meant a slap on the wrist. Felonies were different.
Charles winced. "I can pay you."
Quicksilver snorted. "If I wanted money, do you think I'd ever be short on it?"
Fair point. With his speed, any amount of cash was trivial. Bribery was pointless.
"How about this," Saitama said, thinking aloud. "Wouldn't it be cool if a 'thief' cracked the Pentagon?"
Charles and Beast both stared at him.
Quicksilver stopped cold, eyes widening. "Okay, man… we're speaking the same language."
Charles let out a relieved breath. If the kid agreed, they had a shot.
"But why should I trust you?" Quicksilver narrowed his eyes. "Show me something."
"Show him," Charles said to Beast.
Beast's skin flushed deep blue as fur rippled out across his body. Quicksilver's eyes bugged. "All right, I believe you. Not cool—kinda gross—but I believe you. So… the plan?"
"Of course…"
The next day, the four of them strolled straight into the Pentagon.
On the surface, the place wasn't untouchable; it often opened sections to tourists like a museum.
"I'll make a big scene," Saitama said, already turning away. "You three get it done."
Stealth wasn't his thing. Causing a distraction—that he could do.
He stepped out to the street and flicked a kick. A car launched like a toy, skidding and tumbling down the road, chewing up asphalt and snapping barriers.
The chaos drew eyes immediately. Security surged out in force. They hadn't seen a mutant like this before—but there was no mistaking it now.
Panic flashed across onlookers' faces. Mutants. Here.
But this was the Pentagon. Fear didn't stop the guards; it focused them. They charged Saitama in formation, weapons up.
Guns barked. A hail of rounds hammered his coat.
Useless. That level of firepower couldn't touch him at all.
(End of Chapter)
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