1962.
A secret CIA facility.
"Look, it's those freaks again."
"Turns out freaks eat the sa food we do."
"Then how did they beco freaks?"
"No clue. Maybe you should ask them yourself?"
…
In the cafeteria, people passing by or sitting in various corners couldn't help glancing toward the table in the northeast corner. Whispers flew back and forth, fingers pointed, and gazes lingered.
Like they were watching clowns at a circus.
"I'm so sick of these idiots!"
A curly-haired blond teenager slamd the table and shot a vicious glare around them, voice low but sharp.
"Sean, you should be used to it by now."
Across from him, a girl with long black hair and a cicada-wing tattoo on her arm looked far more composed.
"I don't think I ever will," Sean muttered. He turned to the blonde girl next to him. "Raven, maybe you could talk to Charles. Get him to tweak these morons' mories a bit so we don't have to be gawked at like zoo animals every single day."
Raven didn't reply to him. Instead, she smiled at the young boy beside her. "I still think the better solution is for Alex to just chuck them all out one by one. Right, Alex?"
Don't be fooled by his gentle features or the scholarly vibe—similar to Hank's, even. At first glance, you might think he was the school's top honor student.
But everyone at the table knew exactly what kind of power Alex was hiding inside that unassuming fra.
He could lift a car with one hand like it was nothing.
Throwing out a couple of 200-pound guys wouldn't be any harder than tossing out trash.
"Alex?"
Alex didn't respond. He seed lost in thought, so Raven nudged his arm.
Alex?
Hearing the na jolted him slightly.
Right… that's what they call here.
That's right.
This "Alex" wasn't originally from this world. He was a transmigrator from Earth .
Back in his previous life, Alex had been doing decently well. Graduated from college and landed a solid job at a mid-tier company.
Thanks to his hard work—and a bit of luck—he'd climbed to middle managent within three years, earning about 200,000 annually.
Not rich, exactly, but definitely better off than most.
His only regret might have been neglecting his personal life in favor of work. At 28, he was still single.
Then, out of nowhere, on his way to a blind date, a sudden downpour struck. A bolt of lightning ca crashing down… and lucky him, he got struck.
The next ti he opened his eyes, he was already in another world, in another person's body.
To be honest, he panicked at first.
Because this world had mutants… it had Captain Arica… it had Howard Stark!
Sure, Captain Arica was already "dead" by now, but that didn't stop him from being a national icon.
In short, this was a world of Celestials, dinsional demon gods, and all sorts of insane aliens—where catastrophic, city- or planet-level disasters could break out at any mont.
Living as an ordinary person in a place like this? One wrong step and you're cannon fodder, gone without a trace.
Especially in New York.
Luckily, like so many transmigrators before him, Alex had arrived with a golden finger of his own.
---
[Host: Alex]
[Age: 16]
[Speed: 53 m/s]
[Strength: 7.2 tons]
[Physique: 124 (average healthy adult male: 10)]
[ntal Power: 82 (average healthy adult male: 10)]
[Current Template: Holander (Unlocked: 1%)]
[Abilities: X-Ray Vision (Basic), Super Hearing (Basic), Flight (Locked), Heat Vision (Locked)]
[Source Points: 0]
With a thought, a translucent status screen popped up in front of Alex's eyes—visible only to him.
He still didn't know what the system was actually called. It didn't even have a na.
But its function was obvious: to grant him Holander's powers. It had even gifted him a starter pack upon arrival.
A 1% template progress boost.
Don't underestimate that 1%. It had already given Alex strength, speed, durability, and ntal capacity far beyond a normal human!
Sure, it might not be enough once things go full chaos mode later on.
But rember—right now, First Class hasn't even happened.
Mutants haven't gone public. The world doesn't even know they exist!
Most people haven't even heard of mutants, and those who have dismiss it as conspiracy nonsense.
Even guys like Magneto and other early mutants still think they're the only ones of their kind.
That's why the average CIA agent in this base looked at the cafeteria's mutant crew like circus freaks, not monsters to fear or hate.
As Sean said—more like monkeys than n.
So why was Alex in the CIA to begin with?
That was thanks to a collaboration between the future Professor X, Charles, and the CIA. In order to combat Sebastian Shaw, Charles decided to form his own mutant team.
Alex, along with the future Banshee, Angel, Darwin, and Havok, had all been brought here as potential mutant operatives.
"Alex? What're you thinking about?"
Raven's voice snapped Alex out of his thoughts.
He shook off the ntal clutter and said casually, "Nothing much. Just a bunch of frogs at the bottom of the well—not worth worrying about."
"Frogs at the bottom of the well?" Raven blinked. "What does that an? Who sits at the bottom of a well to look at the sky?"
The others around the table also looked at him, puzzled.
Alex sighed inwardly and explained, "It refers to a frog that's lived its whole life inside a well. It thinks the sky is just that little circle it can see from below. It has no idea how vast the world really is."
"Ohh! So you're calling those guys frogs!" the tattooed girl said, her eyes lighting up in sudden realization.
Alex was speechless.
That's called an allegory!
Not a direct insult!
"A very vivid taphor," said a new voice.
Everyone at the table instinctively stopped eating and turned toward the newcor—Erik.
Erik might not have been the official CIA liaison like Charles, but his strength was undeniable.
He and Charles were the ones handling all matters related to the mutants.
He'd only arrived a month or two before them, but everyone already saw him as a senior figure.
And to be fair, he was quite a bit older.
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