Reborn with Steve Stand

“Cha… Charles, are you okay?”

Seeing him suddenly jump up, the TV station crew looked baffled. One of them asked, “What’s wrong, sir?”

“Um…”

That question pulled Charles back to his senses.

Right—this was still in the middle of recording an interview program. Thankfully, it wasn’t live. Otherwise, his embarrassing reaction just now would have been broadcast on major networks across the US.

“I-It’s nothing.”

Charles forced a nervous little laugh. “Sorry, I just thought I saw a spider. I’m…a little afraid of bugs…”

“Oh, really?”

The production staff eyed him curiously. They sensed something was off, but still nodded cooperatively. “Don’t worry; we’ll edit that part out later.”

“Thank you so much.”

Charles breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s pick up where we left off,”

the blonde reporter said with a nod. “So… Mr. Erik, was it? You were just saying that we’ll all become mutants. What exactly does that mean?”

“Well…”

“It’s all thanks to the X-gene!”

Erik—but actually Fang Mo in disguise—spoke up confidently before Charles could answer.

“The X-gene?”

The blonde reporter followed his lead. “Mr. Charles mentioned that earlier, something about it being mysterious. Could you explain it in more detail?”

“…!”

Charles grew worried the moment Fang Mo hijacked the topic.

As mentioned, this interview was extremely important. If handled properly, his dream of peaceful coexistence between mutants and humans might actually come true. Determined not to let Fang Mo derail the discussion, Charles uncharacteristically steeled himself and tried to reclaim control:

“Um, well, I—”

But he barely spoke a word before his eyes went wide with alarm.

Because Fang Mo had just pulled out a bloody wooden stick.

“Mr. Charles?”

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The blonde reporter, missing these details, turned toward him at once. “Was there something you wanted to add?”

“N-no, not at all!”

Charles hurriedly shook his head, all the courage he’d mustered instantly gone. “Erik here is the expert… Why don’t you ask him, please!”

“…Alright,”

Everyone’s eyes returned to “Erik.”

But seeing the stained wooden stick in his hand—covered with dark-red splotches that looked suspiciously like blood—the whole crew froze.

“Yes, indeed—I’m quite the expert on this,”

Fang Mo/“Erik” said, noting their looks. He strolled over to a nearby blackboard, picked up some chalk, and began sketching.

Before long, he’d drawn two stick figures.

“Everyone, please look. These represent humans and mutants,”

Fang Mo began, pointing the wooden stick at the two little figures on the board. “The X-gene is a recessive gene lying dormant in all human bodies. It doesn’t do anything. Actually, there are plenty of genes like that, sort of like redundant files in a computer system.” R𝙖ƝÖ₿Ε𝙨

“But,”

he continued, “once a recessive X-gene becomes active, that’s when a human becomes a mutant.”

“So, basically a genetic mutation?”

the reporter asked.

“Ahem, calling it a ‘mutation’ might be a bit disrespectful,”

Fang Mo coughed lightly. “This isn’t some disease—it’s part of a greater trend of human evolution. Some people assume humans haven’t evolved in ages, but the truth is that evolution never stops. As far as I know, the mutant population is growing. Since there isn’t yet a formal term for this phenomenon, I personally call it… an ‘Awakening.’”

“Awakening?”

Some of the staff exchanged glances.

“Yes, awakening is truly a wonderful thing,”

Fang Mo said, continuing to draw on the blackboard—some abstract scrawl no one else could decipher, though he gestured like it was perfectly meaningful. “Mutants generally develop special abilities—maybe heightened strength or speed, generating ice, firing lasers, telepathy, metal manipulation…”

“Hank is the perfect example,”

he went on. “He’s gained a beast-like power and saved over a hundred people. He’s surely a hero… and frankly, the world needs heroes like that, don’t you think? Every kid wants to become a cool hero someday.”

“But besides heroes…”

Fang Mo spun back around, hands spread wide:

“If human evolution is an unstoppable trend, then imagine our potential after that evolution.”

“If someone can spew fire, let them fire up a boiler…”

He noticed the reporter looking confused but kept on: “Granted, that may sound strange, but consider how much coal it could save—hugely cutting harmful emissions. For just ten percent of our current coal budget, you could hire a single worker to ‘manually ignite the boiler,’ and you’d protect the environment, too!”

“Likewise, if someone can create ice, then we could go skiing even in summer—what a treat, and a great parent-child bonding experience!”

“Laser beams? Put them to use in heavy industry—cutting, welding, lasers can do a lot…”

“Telepaths are basically born psychiatrists. With them helping people process negative feelings, the world would see far fewer criminals!”

“Uh…”

At this point, the blonde reporter was a bit at a loss. Indeed, this perspective was so…random. She’d anticipated, from government briefings, that they’d frame mutants as heroic saviors. But this was more about cheap solutions for industrial overhead, which might delight the capitalists—they certainly love cutting costs. But was this angle going to sell to the general American public?

Still, Fang Mo kept going.

“Even me—Erik Lehnsherr—”

He patted his chest. “I really want to find a job that suits me!”

“Huh?”

The blonde reporter blinked. “…What kind of job do you think would suit you, Mr. Erik?”

“Oh, there are all sorts,”

Fang Mo grinned. “I can manipulate magnetic fie—er, well, I was nerfed, so I can just control metal now. But that’s good enough for mining, smelting, metalwork, heavy engineering. Given my personal experiences, I wholeheartedly believe the powers of mutants stem from the power of ‘love.’”

“The power of love?”

She stared in confusion.

“I’ll never forget my mother,”

Fang Mo said with intense emotion. “If it weren’t for her, I’d never have realized I was a mutant. Isn’t that proof our powers come from love?”

“Uhh…”

“So I plan to use that love to benefit the entire world!”

Fang Mo declared, waving a hand dramatically. “If the government allows it, I hope they’ll build a huge metal turbine and let me spin it with my powers to generate electricity. It’ll be the cleanest, most perfect energy source in existence—love-powered electricity!”

Charles covered his face in despair, unable to bear it.

He knew these details. Erik had awakened his powers when Sebastian Shaw murdered his mother. Fang Mo’s twisted explanation was just too dark.

Plus, Charles was starting to see why Fang Mo had proposed that Erik become Secretary of Energy… The whole thing was just too off-the-wall to imagine how the real Erik would react if he learned about it.

Not only Charles—everyone else was equally dumbfounded.

Eventually, the blonde reporter laughed awkwardly. “Mr. Erik, that’s quite the dream. I’m sure it’ll come true someday…”

“Let’s hope so,”

Fang Mo said, shrugging. He continued tapping the blackboard.

“The X-gene is full of unknowns.”

“That leads to all sorts of crazy abilities—regeneration, teleportation, flight, spikes, transforming into a frog, weather control…”

“Wait, turning into a frog…? That’s—”

“But do you understand what controlling the weather implies?”

Fang Mo pressed on, ignoring her confusion. “It means no more droughts or scorching summers. Tornadoes? Gone. We could literally manage everything. Humanity’s next step in evolution…would be a metamorphosis from man to god, ruling the planet!”

“Moreover, it belongs to all mankind,”

Fang Mo added, pulling out a research report. “Every human being has the X-gene, so in theory, anyone can become a mutant. My friends…we’re on the brink of an era where everyone’s a hero!”

“So… how exactly do we activate the X-gene?”

someone from the crew asked curiously.

“At the moment, we’re not sure.”

Fang Mo spread his hands. “We’re researching it, but we have leads. I suspect it won’t be long before the government develops a serum that triggers the X-gene, and then everyone could become superhuman…”

“Wow, that’s quite a future,”

the blonde reporter breathed in awe.

“Of course, all that’s just speculation about mutants and the future,”

Fang Mo pivoted abruptly, voice turning grave. “Right now, we mutants are in serious danger…because someone’s evil hands are out to destroy us!”

“Huh?”

She blinked. “Who?”

“A madman. A terrifying racist who’s capturing us all for inhumane experiments. He wants us wiped out.”

Fang Mo’s tone grew furious. “His name is Bolivar—he’s a scientist. Many of us were already persecuted or ostracized for being different, and now, just as we find a home to belong, this devil is hunting us down. His ambition is to exterminate all mutants!”

“Ah?”

The blonde reporter was taken aback. “But Mr. Erik, by your logic, more and more humans are destined to become mutants, right?”

“Yes.”

Fang Mo instantly latched onto that. “So what he really wants to eliminate isn’t just us mutants—it’s the entire future of the human race.”

“…!”

The camera crew looked rattled.

“Maybe you wouldn’t react if he killed me today, because you yourselves aren’t mutants,”

Fang Mo went on. “But if this is truly the path of human evolution, you too will become mutants someday… And when Bolivar starts hunting you, then what?”

“What?”

The color drained from their faces.

“Mr. Erik, if—”

The blonde reporter was about to continue, but just then the doors were flung open. Logan came in looking bewildered, leading a group of people in black suits.

“What’s going on?”

Charles gasped.

“Hello, we’re with the FBI,”

said one of the black-suited men, who seemed a bit rushed. He scanned the room, then asked, “Is Mr. Fang Mo here?”

“Uh…”

Charles froze on the spot. He instinctively glanced at “Erik,” wearing a strange expression. He had no idea what was going on—had Fang Mo’s questionable personal life been exposed?

“Charles, have you seen Fang Mo?”

Logan spoke up with equal confusion. “I sent him to call you earlier—where’d he go?”

“Ahem,”

Fang Mo finally said, “Charles, could you pause it for a sec?”

Charles obligingly used his telepathy to freeze the filming. The camera operator halted the recording, and everyone in the TV crew seemed to pause in place.

“I’m right here.”

Under Logan’s stunned gaze, Fang Mo released his disguise, reverting to his normal appearance. “You were looking for me?”

“Mr. Fang Mo, the President asked us to find you,”

the black-suited men replied. They exchanged a surprised look upon seeing him revert but didn’t remark on it further, swiftly explaining, “Bolivar left the country with his research. We had people tracking him, but…”

“It seems he found some kind of monster in Egypt.”