Reborn with Steve Stand

“W-What the heck is all this?!”

Seeing the bizarre, almost chaotic spectacle outside, both Charles and Logan were completely taken aback.

“They’re all our new students at Xavier’s School.”

Unlike them, Fang Mo was quite happy. After all, these eccentric “stars” out there were all personally created by him one by one. Watching them cause mischief gave him a certain proud satisfaction.

Back in the day when he browsed the Bilibili website (known colloquially as “Station B” or just “B”), his favorite category was the “鬼畜区” [“鬼畜” or “guichu,” known for heavily remixed, meme-like videos].

Now Fang Mo had produced his own crew of “all-stars,” as if he were truly within the “鬼畜区” itself—evoking a sense of that lost, youthful energy. He savored that flicker of nostalgia, like the only proof he’d once really lived.

What? The dancing category at Station B? Sorry, you can’t watch “B-limited” content in the dancing section…

“You’re saying these…are new students?”

Focusing back on the present, Charles sounded rather uncertain. “Am I…really able to teach them anything?”

“Of course you are.”

Seeing Charles doubting himself, Fang Mo immediately encouraged him. “You’re the famous Professor X, the star of mutantkind! Your inspiring slogan once went viral everywhere, restoring countless mutants’ confidence and courage…”

“Me? A slogan?”

Charles was taken aback. “When did I ever say something like that?”

“‘There’s no such thing as a useless mutant ability, only a useless mutant!’”

Fang Mo said solemnly. “At Xavier’s School, we only accept monsters—no normal humans!”

“Don’t make stuff up!”

Charles immediately retorted. “I never said that!”

“You dare deny it?”

Fang Mo chuckled. “Careful now… I might be forced to end you.”

“Alright, knock it off.”

Logan interjected, sounding none too pleased. “These people you created look impossible to manage, and Charles is right. If you really want him to help educate them, you should personally keep them in line a bit.”

“Keep them in line?”

Fang Mo asked blankly. “What do you mean?”

“You tell me!”

Logan jabbed a finger out the window. “What kind of students set up stalls to sell food by the front gate? And how old are they? They look more like teachers than students!”

“Huh?!

Fang Mo’s eyes lit up.

“You…”

Logan immediately grew cautious. “What’re you plotting now?”

“I just realized I was stuck in the wrong mindset.”

Fang Mo’s eyes were brimming with mischievous excitement. “Why make them students? Just make them teachers!”

“…We’re done for.”

Logan covered his face in despair.

But Fang Mo ignored him. He happily opened the library window and shouted: “Alright, everyone—enough playing around. Time to gather up!”

Because Fang Mo was their creator, his words carried weight. Almost instantly, they stopped what they were doing and made their way into the mansion’s main door, then over to the library. Some arrived carrying basketballs, others…not wearing much at all. The scene was chaotic in the extreme. Ŗ𝘢ɴŐ₿Ёṧ

“Boss, want some ‘gluten skewers?’”

A chubby man with a circle of facial hair ambled in, humming a little tune. Spotting Fang Mo, he enthusiastically handed him a bunch of grilled gluten.

“Oh, thanks.”

Fang Mo nodded, taking the skewers and digging in right on the spot.

They had a crispy, charred surface, with a firm, chewy interior. Mixed with spicy seasonings like chili pepper and cumin, it was surprisingly tasty. Fang Mo had really been craving this sort of street snack, given that A’xue [another character/cook in Fang Mo’s dimension] usually made full meals, rarely anything like street food.

“What’s that?”

Seeing Fang Mo devour it so ravenously, Charles grew curious.

“Didn’t I just say—gluten skewers?”

Fang Mo offered him one. “Go ahead, try it.”

“Thanks.”

Charles took a bite and his eyes instantly lit up. He, as an American, had never tasted such a unique snack. “It’s…really good.”

“Right?”

Fang Mo laughed.

Spicy seasonings do stimulate the appetite. After a couple bites, Fang Mo felt himself getting hungry, so he looked up at the “crowd” in the library:

“Anyone got more food? Bring it on.”

“Have some watermelon!”

“Try some fried dough!”

“Drink some iced tea!”

“Pachiuli Cake!” [Likely a pun on some in-joke pastry.]

“Some egg fried rice!”

One after another, they pulled out various foods as if by magic, shoving them toward Fang Mo. Even a giant pigeon flapped its wings and produced a freshly boiled egg from somewhere. “Boss, eat this first! My brother just cooked it!”

“Gulp…”

The enticing aroma filled the room. Charles and Logan were also feeling hungry, having skipped breakfast.

Just then, the door opened again with a creak.

Logan glanced over and saw a man dressed like a wartime cook standing in the doorway, carrying a steaming pot and wearing a strange expression.

“Ah… hahaha…”

the man eventually let out a hearty laugh. “Chicken soup, anyone?!”

“Boss, want some soup—”

“Get lost.”

Before he could finish, Fang Mo dismissed him without even looking up. That froze the man in place, clutching the pot of soup awkwardly.

“What’s with your attitude?”

Logan couldn’t help complaining. “Did he do something wrong?”

“I know my people’s quirks.”

Fang Mo peeled the shell off his boiled egg casually. “If you don’t believe me, go ahead and drink it yourself—but I’m not touching that stuff.”

“You…”

Logan furrowed his brow. But before he could think it through, the man with the pot offered a bowl of soup, smiling obsequiously: “Captain Logan, sir, care to try a sip?”

“Just call me Logan.”

The soup’s savory aroma made Logan’s mouth water. He took the bowl and drank without overthinking it.

Almost immediately, his expression changed. The moment the soup hit his stomach, it felt like it was turning inside out; the pain was excruciating, and he staggered. His face went red, and he glared at the cook in shocked confusion.

“Hahaha! He drank it! He drank it!”

the man—apparently some “Agent Pangolin”—burst into triumphant laughter. “Xiaochuan, Your Majesty! My mission is complete!”

“You…”

Logan tried to speak but was doubled over, unable to control his churning gut.

Luckily, Fang Mo abruptly grabbed Logan’s hand and produced a ring from somewhere, slipping it onto Logan’s finger. Instantly, the wrenching pain vanished so fast it left Logan reeling.

“Huh…?”

Logan stared, dumbfounded.

“It’s an Illusory Gold Ring,”

Fang Mo explained irritably. “Your healing factor can be suppressed by certain toxins; this ring grants you total immunity to poison.”

“So that soup…was poisoned?”

Logan exclaimed, confused. “But why? He’s trying to kill people here?”

“It’s…his ‘character setting.’”

Fang Mo shrugged. “Old Feng there is an Omega-level poison-based mutant. You know about identity disorders, right? Some people think they’re a plastic Walmart bag; Old Feng thinks he’s a double agent with a mission to poison everybody. So whenever he sees soup, his ability kicks in…”

“He’s just a total lunatic!”

Logan shouted. “Are you planning to turn Xavier’s School into a mental hospital now?”

“Ehehe, it’s the Arkham Genius Mutant Academy.” [Reference to DC’s Arkham Asylum.]

“Cut the ‘ehehe’ crap—!”

Logan was about to explode when Fang Mo, noticing the tension, clapped his hands and turned to the group:

“Alright, everyone,”

he said, “from now on, you’re all part of Xavier’s School. You need to listen to these two; they’re going to teach you. They’ll help you become proper ‘mutant mentors.’ It’s a huge help to me—got it?”

“Got it, Boss!” “Understood, Big Bro!” “Roger!” “Okay!” “Don’t worry, Boss!”

The “all-stars” beat their chests in solidarity.

“Mm, good.”

Nodding with satisfaction, Fang Mo patted Charles on the shoulder. “Alright, I’m leaving it to you. I’m heading out on a mission with Hank.”

“What? Me alone?!”

Charles now looked more panicked than before.

“Mission? What mission?”

Logan asked curiously, overhearing. “Just you and Beast?”

“That thing we talked about earlier,”

Fang Mo replied. “We said we needed a chance to expose mutants to the public, right? We’ve rested up. We can’t just sit around waiting. We’re not gonna wait for Hank to declare his love to Raven, are we?”

“Wait—what did you just say?”

Charles snapped his head up, shocked.

“Alright then.”

Logan ignored Charles and weighed the situation, glancing between these bizarre “stars” and Fang Mo, this unpredictable wildcard. He made up his mind quickly: “You can go, but I’m coming along.”

“Fine.”

Fang Mo shrugged. “After all, you’re fireproof. Let’s go.”

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“Wait a minute.”

Logan sensed something fishy. “‘Fireproof?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.”

Fang Mo didn’t bother explaining. He simply headed out, but paused before leaving, patting Charles on the shoulder: “Don’t be scared. Next time, I’ll bring an old acquaintance to cheer you up. I’ve got my eye on that stick, see? You look like you could use a lady friend…”

“What the—?! No, don’t—!!!”

Ignoring Charles’s horrified yell, Fang Mo departed, humming a tune.

Thirty minutes later…

In the center of New York City, inside a large shopping mall, Beast (Hank) was anxiously looking around at the crowds. “Umm, Fang Mo… do we really have to do this?”

“Absolutely.”

Fang Mo, now disguised as a Caucasian man, ambled around aimlessly. “We said we wanted to create a ‘hero narrative.’ And as everyone knows, heroes become heroes by resolving disasters. If there isn’t one, we’ll make one…”

“Jesus, have mercy on these people.”

Logan sighed, massaging his temples in exhaustion. “Don’t forget what you promised us—you said you’d set fires, but nobody dies.”

“Relax.”

Fang Mo thumped his chest, looking confident. “You know what I’m capable of.”

“Yeah, I also know how many times you’ve screwed me over,”

Logan retorted. “You’d better not pull out that ‘Laevatein’ or whatever you call it, then claim you’re just ‘starting a fire.’”

“We don’t need Laevatein for this little job.”

Fang Mo waved him off casually.

Yes, this was Fang Mo’s plan: to push forward the political correctness agenda, they first had to get mutants in the public eye. But the right kind of publicity—preferably in a heroic light, where a mutant saves people and maybe sacrifices something. Definitely not a villain. So he wanted to stage a disaster scene.

At first he considered mimicking the Joker by robbing a bank, but man-made chaos wouldn’t stir up the same kind of sympathy. An accidental catastrophe would work better, so he’d come to this mall to set it on fire.

He himself would start the blaze, and Beast would rescue the civilians. With a little spin from the U.S. government, they’d cast Beast as a heroic mutant, shaping an uplifting narrative.

“Fun fact.”

Catching a moment alone, Fang Mo said to Logan, “To ‘save fire’ is to ‘put out fire.’”

“Just like raw fish is ‘dead fish?’”

Logan rolled his eyes. “If you’ve got time for nonsense, focus on—”

Before he could finish, a corner of the mall actually caught fire. And not a small one. Flames and smoke shot up to the ceiling, instantly throwing the crowd into panic.

“Has… it started already?”

Seeing this, Hank grew tense. His body hair started turning blue.

“Not yet. Wait.”

Fang Mo waved him off. He and the others followed the panicked crowd. Because the fire was near the exit, everyone was instinctively running the other way, which only made the situation worse. By the time they realized they were going the wrong way, it was too late. The flames spread, sealing off the exit, leaving many trapped inside.

“Now—go.”

Once the fire had grown sufficiently, Fang Mo nodded at Beast.

“Raargh!”

Hank couldn’t hold back any longer. Roaring, he shifted into his beast form, startling the nearby shoppers. Instinctively, they shied away from him.

“Follow me! Hurry!”

But Hank had already moved into “rescue mode”—or maybe he was just desperate to save people. Shouting, he charged into the flames, encouraging the frightened crowd to follow. Seeing how panicked they already were, some did trail behind him. All watched in shock as he dove right into the fire, kicking away obstacles that were ablaze, clearing a path.

“We should go, too.”

Logan let out a sigh of relief. So far, the plan was working. But turning around, he noticed a small girl standing beside them.

“A kid?”

Logan was surprised.

“Guess she froze up from fear,”

Fang Mo commented, spotting her backpack. She was probably a student.

He patted the child’s head. “So, did you finish your homework?”

“Huh?”

She, terrified, shook her head. “N-No…”

“Gotcha.”

Fang Mo nodded and, without hesitation, yanked off her backpack and tossed it straight into the flames. “Come on, kid.”

“???”

Her eyes went wide with shock.

“Remember, kid,”

Fang Mo said, taking her small hand and guiding her away from the blazing exit. “Not all heroes wear capes.”