Reborn with Steve Stand

It turned out pretty much as Fang Mo had anticipated.

His meeting with the U.S. President went very smoothly.

According to the President, the CIA informed him immediately after receiving the gene serums yesterday, and they immediately scheduled human testing. They hadn’t even had time to verify whether the research report Fang Mo provided was genuine or not.

Of course, that fit neatly with U.S. “protocol.” After all, these generals each had plenty of “grunts” under them. All they had to do was randomly pick a soldier to experiment on. If it worked, they’d simply tout him as a super-soldier. If it failed, they could claim a live-ammunition accident—pay out a little money, and that would be the end of it.

But as it turned out, the serum Fang Mo provided worked extremely well.

The test subject was an American veteran from Florida. Initially, he wasn’t actually eligible because he was technically retired and above the age limit. But he had personal connections with a certain general; once he heard about this, he volunteered to participate, saying he wanted to see if mutants could beat the alligator in his own backyard.

According to the test report, about fifteen minutes after being injected with the gene serum, the veteran’s X-factor manifested.

His physical condition improved significantly.

The most obvious change was his age. The report showed that, within a few hours, his wrinkles disappeared, and his hair turned black. His bone density improved, and physically he looked twenty years younger, back to a lively young man brimming with energy—constantly demanding to go home and “roll in the hay” with his long-frustrated middle-aged wife.

As for his mutant ability—after a full twelve hours of continuous testing, the higher-ups in the U.S. military finally concluded that his ability was… the control of oil.

But calling it simply “oil control” was a bit hasty. His power was very abstract and seemed capable of controlling most oil byproducts, including high-polymer compounds—i.e., plastics.

Of course, they didn’t have enough time to analyze it thoroughly. Based on top-brass conjecture, the veteran’s ability probably wasn’t literally controlling all oil but controlling a certain substance widely found in oil—maybe hydrocarbons. Or something else. Unfortunately, no immediate test could pinpoint it. So they just lumped it under “oil control.”

After measuring the scope, power, and sustainability of his ability, the testers gave him a rating. They concluded he was a Beta-level mutant (Level 4). The only levels above him were Alpha (Level 5) and Omega, at the very top.

This news practically shocked the President on the spot.

After all, everyone understood how important oil was to the U.S. military. If this ability could be fully developed, the potential was immeasurable.

And to think that just the first individual injected with the serum had gained such a terrifying power—honestly, the President couldn’t even imagine where this might lead. If the country’s military brass could be widely inoculated with the serum, the effects would be extraordinary—truly a world-changing invention that could alter the future of the country and all of humanity.

On another note, the anti-aging effect—the fact that the serum could make someone physically young again—also had the President and his inner circle drooling with envy. The various House Speakers, Secretaries of State, Treasury Secretaries, random generals, the Secretary of Defense…all these old powerbrokers at the pinnacle of world authority began experiencing a surge of desire they hadn’t felt in decades.

Humans fear mutants precisely because they themselves can’t wield that power. But Fang Mo’s arrival changed everything. Just one small dose of gene serum could awaken one’s latent genetic powers. ŗＡꞐօᛒƐꞩ

That was far better than the Sentinel program.

Frankly, if they hadn’t needed more testing to rule out any hidden side effects, the U.S. President would have injected himself on the spot. The allure of regaining youth was just too strong. And they’d heard Fang Mo was also working on a customizable version of the serum, which only made it more tempting.

For that reason, the President hurried to invite Fang Mo over. Based on the experiment, it seemed there were no major issues with the serum, so the President sat down with him for a proper conversation.

Right on cue, Fang Mo pitched his “political correctness” plan, saying he wanted to raise mutants’ social status. The U.S. President almost immediately accepted. If the serum worked as described, the world would soon be turned upside down. Mutants would be the new mainstream, and it wouldn’t pay to get on their bad side.

Meanwhile, the President expressed hope that these gene serums could be exclusive to the U.S. military.

Naturally, Fang Mo refused outright.

Perhaps having learned a lesson from the “Kennedy Brain Incident,” successive U.S. Presidents had become quite cautious about making rash moves. This one seemed to appreciate a rational approach. After careful thought, he decided it’d be unwise to get nasty with Fang Mo, so he nodded and compromised.

All in all, both sides’ talks concluded smoothly. Fang Mo somehow ended up with multiple official ties to the military. But that didn’t bother him. Once the negotiations ended, he used an Ender-style teleport to return to the Xavier School.

…

“You’re back.”

Seeing Fang Mo return, the group hovering around the screen all exhaled in relief.

“What’s with those faces?”

Fang Mo asked in confusion, glancing at the monitor. “Don’t tell me you guys were watching some cheesy adult film… Wait, this footage looks familiar. Uh… the White House?”

“Ahem…”

Hank [Beast] awkwardly closed the feed.

“We were just waiting for some good news from you,”

Charles reacted quickly, speaking up. “After all, you were invited by the President himself, and we couldn’t come along, so…”

“We were afraid the President might say something to piss you off,”

Logan chimed in bluntly, “and then you’d level the White House with a single strike and start harvesting American scalps.”

“‘Harvesting scalps?’ That’s a new one,”

Fang Mo snickered. Clearly Logan had been picking up some black humor.

“Anyway, what did you talk about?”

Erik couldn’t hold back. “Was it productive?”

“Oh, it went fine,”

Fang Mo nodded. “Barring any surprises, the entire world is about to change. You’re probably all going to get busy—especially you.”

While speaking, Fang Mo looked at Erik.

“Me?”

Erik blinked. “What do you need me for? An assassination?”

“Just the opposite.”

Fang Mo grinned, raising one finger. “I’m going to recommend you to the President as the new U.S. Secretary of Energy. This is our first step for mutants—the future of our kind depends on you.”

“Secretary of Energy… me?”

Erik’s face was full of confusion. “What…what do you mean?”

“The President already approved the proposal to classify mutants as a protected minority. Now all we need is a catalyst.”

Fang Mo explained simply, “Right now, the general public doesn’t really know mutants exist. So, the first step is to reveal yourselves, then play the role of victims.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Erik asked. “Am I supposed to be that victim?”

“No, no, no—you’re the one who has to pick a side,”

Fang Mo corrected. “I’ve already planned out who’ll be exposed as the ‘victim.’ Hank here is perfect.”

“Huh? Me?”

Hank [Beast] was startled.

“Once Hank is publicly revealed, the next step is media control, which the U.S. government will handle for us, so don’t worry too much.”

Fang Mo waved a hand. “Then Charles has to step in and explain how mutants came to be, urging other mutants to come forward, that kind of thing. You’re good at that, right?”

He then turned to Mystique (Raven).

“After the public has accepted the origins of mutants, you’ll be the one to expose Bolivar’s crimes.”

Fang Mo pulled out another file. “I still have some victim materials here you can use.”

“What’s…this?”

Raven took the folder and briefly skimmed the pages, only to break out in a cold sweat.

The images were far more horrifying than simple experiments: it looked like people were being tortured or slaughtered rather than studied. Limbs and facial features were severed; viruses were injected for tolerance tests. Some victims were sewn together into a human centipede shape—just one glance made her shiver.

Worse, throughout the entire video, Bolivar was shown smiling calmly, as if admiring his own artistic masterpiece—a bona fide madman.

“These…these are all Bolivar’s crimes?”

Raven asked, her voice trembling.

“Oh, no.”

Fang Mo quickly explained, “They’re AI-generated fake footage. After all, it’s only 1973 in your current timeline, and as everyone knows, you can’t fake video footage in this era.”

“They’re fake?”

Raven finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s pretty much the plan,”

Fang Mo said with a laugh, clapping his hands. “The President, the Speaker, the Cabinet, the whole U.S. government is on my side. Bolivar doesn’t stand a chance.”

“It…sounds workable,”

Charles murmured, looking pensive. He nodded slowly.

“Great. Then we’ll start tomorrow,”

Fang Mo declared. Seeing no objections, he turned and headed for his bedroom, yawning as he walked. “I’m beat. Gonna take a day off…”

Perhaps because Fang Mo hadn’t lost control this time, no one said anything. Soon, he opened the door to his old room.

He had stayed here before—back in the X-Men 1 timeline, Storm (Ororo) had arranged the same room for him. Compared to the future, it was a bit old-fashioned, but the floor-to-ceiling window was still quite nice.

…

“Ah, finally a chance to test this…”

Once inside, Fang Mo gazed down at his own hand, visibly excited.

Yes, ever since he unexpectedly unlocked the Monster Moe-fication Module, he’d been caught up in the mutant drama and hadn’t had time to test it.

Now he finally had a moment to himself—he definitely planned to check out this new mod.

“Hmm…”

After a brief pause, Fang Mo produced a gigantic, dark-gray greatsword.

This sword was forged from a cosmic neutron substance so dense it had formed a special “degenerate” structure. Moreover, it contained a sealed entity said to be utterly indestructible—a Bedrock Golem.

Sure, Fang Mo could be a bit evil and enjoyed messing with people, but he’d imagined what Logan and the others might look like if moe-fied, and honestly that mental image was a bit too weird for him. So testing it on this golem first felt more reasonable.

No sooner thought than done.

Fang Mo focused, and the degenerate neutron greatsword began to glow white. The Bedrock Golem emerged shortly afterward.

“…?”

As soon as it appeared, the Golem looked around warily. Not seeing any immediate threat, it scratched its head, sending sparks flying. Its entire demeanor radiated a kind of impressive, albeit mystifying, intelligence.

“Hey, big guy,”

Fang Mo called out, seeing its confusion. “I recently learned a new fist technique. Mind if I try it on you?”

“…”

The Golem didn’t speak—just looked blankly for a moment, then nodded.

“Great,”

Fang Mo said, gathering power. In an instant, an indescribable rule enveloped his fist, and he unleashed an uppercut. “Behold, the current T0 meta fist!”

With a “KLANG!”, the Bedrock Golem shot straight into the air.

Then, in the next second, the special rule coating Fang Mo’s fist activated. The Golem’s sharp-edged, three-meter-tall body was suddenly engulfed in white light.

As the glow dissipated, a naked woman fell from midair.

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She crashed heavily to the floor, smashing the wooden boards. Lying sprawled in a giant X-shape, her face was utterly blank.

“…What is this?”

Even Fang Mo himself wore a stunned expression.