At a crosswalk on 75th Street in New York, Alex waved back at the ever-polite Jarvis.
He glanced over his shoulder at a nearby car and let out a faint, scornful chuckle.
That car had been tailing him for a while now.
He knew exactly who sent them—Peggy Carter.
What surprised him was how intense her reaction was to his superhuman strength.
Sure, Alex wasn't a trained agent—he lacked any formal counter-surveillance skills—but with Carter acting so relentless, it didn't take a genius to figure it out.
All he had to do was use his super-hearing for a moment, and the truth was loud and clear.
Honestly, if Peggy had just come and asked him nicely, Alex probably wouldn't have hidden anything.
After all, it wasn't like being a mutant was shameful.
He'd never done anything immoral—what was there to hide?
But with her aggressive attitude? Alex couldn't be bothered.
And as for trying to tail him in secret? Not a chance. That's why he had Jarvis drop him off here—right at this intersection.
"Agent Carter, I'm not some pushover you can toy with."
Muttering to himself, Alex strode straight toward the black sedan that had been shadowing him.
He rapped on the window without hesitation.
It rolled down to reveal a middle-aged man chomping on a hot dog.
"What do you want, kid? Beat it!"
The man pretended not to recognize him and barked angrily.
Alex didn't say a word.
He reached through the window, grabbed the man by the collar, and yanked him out of the car with a single hand.
Lifting the man like he weighed nothing, Alex held him up in the air.
The guy flailed like a ragdoll, completely powerless.
"Go tell Peggy Carter—stop bothering me. I'm not always this patient."
With a mocking grin, Alex gave the man a light toss upward.
The man went flying and crashed hard onto the rooftop of a nearby building with a loud bang.
He landed in a heap, dazed, bones aching, his mind spinning.
Meanwhile, Alex casually turned and walked away, vanishing into the crowd like nothing had happened.
Only the trembling, miserable man remained on the rooftop.
What kind of monster did the chief assign me to tail…?
Having ditched his pursuers, the rest of Alex's journey back was smooth sailing.
He returned to the Xavier Estate without any further surprises.
To his amusement, the mansion was filled with laughter and cheerful banter. Gone was the oppressive tension from before.
And the moment Alex walked in, everyone eagerly rushed over to greet him.
After the whole Black King incident, Alex's status among the mutants was unquestioned.
"Alex, man, you're unreal!"
Siryn's eyes were practically glowing with admiration. "You actually saved Howard Stark? That's insane!"
Apparently, Raven had already bragged to everyone, with some artistic flair, no doubt.
"For real! That's the craziest and coolest thing I've ever heard!" Havok was practically bouncing with excitement.
"Man, what's Stark like? Is he easy to get along with?" Even Darwin, usually calm and composed, was visibly hyped.
And who could blame them?
To everyone here, Howard Stark was a literal legend.
It was like going to a school reunion and hearing one of your old dormmates had saved Elon Musk.
The shock and awe were totally understandable.
"Mr. Stark's actually a pretty decent guy—well, aside from not being as handsome as me."
Alex flashed a cheeky grin and plopped down on the nearest couch.
The whole room buzzed with joy and excitement.
Now that the threat of the Black King had been removed, everyone could finally relax and enjoy life at the mansion.
Luxuries they'd never known before now surrounded them, and not a single soul was eager to leave.
If anything, they were hoping Charles and the others would take their time returning.
Meanwhile—Bronx District
In a rundown, abandoned building, surrounded by garbage and stagnant water, sat a pristine black Cadillac—comically out of place.
In front of it stood four people: Stryker, a pre-Deadpool Wade Wilson, and two plain-clothed agents.
Of course, that wasn't all.
Snipers had been hidden in strategic locations—Stryker didn't take chances.
It was clear he was waiting for someone.
"Sir, you know I've got a mild case of OCD, right? And this smell—seriously—it's killing me…"
Wade started rambling again.
"Shut up, Wade." Stryker sighed through gritted teeth.
Wade quieted down—reluctantly.
But Stryker knew it wouldn't last. Give him ten seconds and—
Thankfully, another car pulled in just then.
A man stepped out—long black coat, shoulder-length hair.
"I told you to minimize contact. I need to stay low," Lucien said, clearly irritated.
"Only the weak rely on staying hidden. The strong eliminate obstacles," Stryker replied meaningfully.
Lucien wasn't here for lectures. "Just tell me what you want."
"Given how well we've worked together in the past, I'd like to hire a few more of your people."
"No. Our deal's done. I helped you catch your target—I held up my end. But you? You never found the one I asked for. And now that you've got mutants, you don't need my men anymore."
"You're wrong, Lucien. I do need them. Logan's gone, Zero and Sabretooth are dead—my mutant squad is in shambles. Wade's all I've got left."
"Not my problem. You know the risk I'm under. I can't be exposed. Just three days ago, three of my kin were beaten to death by a kid—and I let it go. So, no. I'm done."
Lucien said it casually, but something about it stuck with Stryker.
Beaten to death. Werewolves, no less.
That wasn't something a normal person could do.
And the killer was an kid?
When Stryker had commissioned a sketch of the man who killed Sabretooth, the result had been hazy—but one thing was certain: he was kid.
The witness couldn't recall the details clearly—darkness had obscured too much—but race? That was unmistakable.
Stryker's expression darkened.
He might have just found a lead.
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