[Westchester County, New York]
—Ororo Munroe 'Storm'—
To say she was pissed would be an understatement. She was seething.
It was supposed to be her day off, a chance to finally go on that long-awaited exhibition in Egypt. But no—because, of course, Scott Summers, their so-called leader, decided this was the perfect moment to propose to Jean.
She wasn't just mad about having to take over patrol duty instead of being in Egypt, though. Okay, maybe she was lying. That was definitely a big part of it—but not the whole story.
Jean had been through the wringer lately. Her research got stolen by some professor she'd collaborated with, Scott had stood her up less than a week ago, and, overall, her month was just… shitty. Then Scott, in his infinite wisdom, thought, Hey, why not propose now? Like, seriously? After screwing up dates and hurting her feelings—something he still hadn't even realized?
And now he wanted to slap a ring on it.
She didn't say it out loud, but she always thought their relationship was… toxic. Neither of them was ever fully honest with the other. They'd cheated on each other more times than she could count, and somehow, after all that, they kept getting back together.
Still, it wasn't her place to say anything. She cared about them both, almost like the family she'd never really had growing up.
But Scott wasn't even the main issue here.
There was always someone who'd pull some last-minute excuse to skip their duties, leaving others to pick up the slack. She wasn't a drill sergeant—she could forgive it once or twice. But when the replacements bailed too? That's when she got mad.
Scott was first to ditch, leaving Logan to take his place. And when Logan's turn came, he decided to go chasing after some mutant like him—a hunt Professor Xavier explicitly told him not to pursue. That alone piqued her curiosity. But still, Logan skipping out meant the responsibility fell to Kitty…
Except Kitty was off playing pirates.
Then there was Jean, already drowning in her own stress.
So, the patrol looped back to her. And stupidly, she hadn't skipped town before Scott and Logan bailed.
Which led to now.
She was stuck, flying over shady neighborhoods, scanning casinos and abandoned drug dens, and peeking down alleys too dark to feel safe.
And as she'd expected—things weren't safe.
"That's not a spark from a wire," she muttered.
A flicker of light flashed from the eastern corner, unnaturally sharp and precise. Definitely not a busted transformer or bad wiring.
It was trouble.
She knew it the second she saw it.
"Of course. My day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"
Trouble was brewing. And, as always, it was waiting for her to deal with it.
…
…
Fuck.
I knew my luck wasn't that good—getting a healing skill for free? Yeah, right. And this place had been way too peaceful to be real.
"You really thought you could run from him, didn't you?"
Who? I don't even know who you are. How the hell am I supposed to know who this "him" is?
Fuck it. I needed to escape. Somehow.
Raising my hands like I was surrendering, I tried to stay calm. I had zero skills to take on a guy with a gun, and I wasn't dumb enough to think I could outsmart him. Not when I didn't even know who I was or why I'd ended up in this mess.
"Look, man," I started, trying to sound reasonable. "I know this might sound crazy, but I have no clue what's going on here. Maybe you could—Agh!"
Big mistake.
"The next time you open that mouth of yours without permission, the bullet goes straight into that fucking skull," he snarled, his scarred face partially hidden in the shadows.
Meanwhile, my shoulder was on fire. The bastard had shot me, and the bullet was still lodged in there.
"Gah!" I groaned. If it wasn't obvious, I wasn't exactly used to getting shot. The pain was unbearable, and I was this close to passing out.
"You thought you could just walk away, didn't you?" he sneered, glaring at me. "Live a normal life? Have a family? How fucking ridiculous."
Alright, so apparently, I was part of some no-good gang. And as if my luck couldn't get worse, I'd ended up in this body just to die all over again. Great.
"Did you seriously think he'd let you go with all those secrets? The routes, the clients, the locations, the goods?" He laughed, tapping his gun against his forehead. "How stupid could you be?"
Who the hell was this guy talking about?
Wait—no, don't answer that. I already had a pretty good guess.
A drug cartel.
Of course. Way to go, me. Real solid life choices here.
"He told me to bring you back alive," the man said, his voice cold, "but he didn't say anything about you being in one piece."
That grin on his face? Yeah, that was the universal sign for 'bad shit incoming.'
No, no, no, no, no! I needed to distract him. Fast.
Desperation hit, and before he could spew another line or pull the trigger, I did the grossest, dumbest thing I could think of: I spat.
Not just any spit. I hurled the nastiest, thickest wad of saliva I'd ever mustered straight at his face.
"Ahh! Motherfuc—"
I didn't wait for him to finish, thanking the system for the spit skill. The second his hands went to his eyes, I bolted to the side, narrowly dodging the bullet he fired in blind rage.
He was too busy rubbing spit out of his eyes to aim properly, and I knew this was my only chance.
I ran.
No hesitation, no looking back. Just running faster than I ever had in my entire 25 years of life. Left, right, right, left—any direction I could think of in the narrow alleys.
But this wasn't my turf, and it showed. He knew this place way better than I did.
"You can't hide from me, cunt!" his voice echoed, loud and furious. "You really thought I was the only one after you? Wherever you run, they'll find you!"
Fuck.
The way ahead was blocked. There was no way out. And hiding? What was I supposed to do—crawl into a garbage bin? This wasn't the movies.
I was screwed.
Now what?
[You can accept a penalty for an additional roll.]
The damn system had decided to ring in my head again. And what was this penalty it was yammering on about now?
[The system allows you to roll for anything from a common to a legendary skill depending on the severity of the penalty you are willing to take.]
[Penalty for rolls without Moolah are curses, ranging from minor, moderate, severe, and primal.]
Getting shot wasn't enough? Now you want me to get cursed too?
But screw it. A common or rare skill probably wouldn't cut it, and as bad as a severe curse sounded, I probably wouldn't die.
"Will the epic roll guarantee a safe escape?"
[Probably.]
Probably? Fuck you. That's not good enough. "What about legendary?"
[Certainly.]
I already had a bullet lodged in my shoulder and couldn't heal it, because if I did, the damn thing would fuse with my bones. I needed to get it out first.
No choice. Let's roll for a legendary skill. Whatever happens, happens.
[Rolling for a Legendary skill.]
The familiar three-second wait. The glowing of the skill slot. Same process, same suspense.
And finally:
[Congratulations! You have acquired the Legendary skill 'Electromagnetic Manipulation.']
[Electromagnetic Manipulation: You have full control over the electromagnetic forces of nature, including all subcategories of the ability.]
A flood of information surged into my brain, like it was trying to burst every blood vessel in my head. Laws, concepts, theories—it was all there. Techniques for manipulating the forces.
It felt like I could command them. Command electricity. Command magnetism. Bend them to my will.
But, of course, there was a catch.
[Legendary skills are adjusted to be solar system level.]
[Re-evaluating host based on the current skill set.]
[Analysis complete. New Class assigned: Omega-Level Mutant.]
Just a second ago, I was running for my life from a guy with a gun. Now? Apparently, I had control over the entire electromagnetic spectrum within the solar system.
Ridiculous.
But hey, I wasn't complaining.
And then, lady luck decided to smile on me again.
[First barter registered!]
[Congratulations! You have acquired a bonus Epic roll for your first successful barter!]
"Roll it!"
[Rolling for an Epic Skill.]
Same process. Three seconds later, another skill appeared.
[Congratulations! You have acquired the Epic skill 'Sprouting Tentacles.']
[Sprouting Tentacles: Allows you to create a spherical area anywhere within a range of 10 centimeters to 1,000 meters from which you can sprout tentacles at will. The tentacles can range from 10 centimeters thick to a maximum thickness of 10,000 inches. You will have full control over any tentacles that you spawn.]
Okay, that's… weird. But also handy. Definitely useful for both defense and offense.
And then I remembered.
The penalty.
[Applying penalty!]
Oh, shit. Here we go.
[Applying Primal Curse!]
[Curse acquired: Sin of Lust.]
[Sin of Lust: You and any women you find desirable will suffer from random bursts of uncontrollable lust, making it difficult for both parties to restrain your carnal desires. Effects cannot be mitigated by any skill or item. The only way to tame the curse is through sheer willpower.]
No way was it asking me to become a sexual deviant. Even if I escaped this mess now, it'd only be a matter of time before I became some internationally wanted criminal because of this bullshit.
"Found you, cunt!"
And just like that, the guy with the gun was suddenly the least of my worries. Even as he stood there, gun pointed right at my face—I wasn't worried.
Why?
Simple.
"You can't run, motherfucker!" he shouted, smug as ever.
While he ranted, I grabbed the lid of a smaller trash bin. He just stood there, laughing like I was some lunatic.
"Gone insane, huh?" He chuckled. "You think you can take me down with a fucking trash can lid?"
It wasn't the lid I needed. No, it was something else entirely. The countless laws of electromagnetism buzzing in my head made one thing crystal clear: I could control this.
With one hand extended toward him and the other gripping the lid, I tugged on the electromagnetic force.
It was like moving an arm. No hesitation, no resistance. The force responded instantly.
The moment his eyes widened, a crackling sound erupted from my arm, accompanied by brilliant white arcs of electricity.
"Y-You're one of those!" he yelled, his voice shaking. "A freak!"
Without wasting another second, he pulled the trigger.
But alas.
A bullet might have worked five minutes ago. Maybe even two. But now? With my control over magnetism and that bullet being metal?
Not a chance.
The projectile froze mid-air, spinning slightly before dropping harmlessly to the ground.
Instead of pulling some cliché move and shooting him with his own bullet, I decided to have a little fun.
"F-Fuck you… freak!" he stammered, firing again and again. Every time, the bullets stopped mid-air before clinking to the ground.
Meanwhile, the trash can lid spun in my grasp, rotating faster and faster between my hands, caught in a controlled electromagnetic field.
The guy ran out of bullets and scrambled to reload. That was his final mistake.
With a flick of my wrist, I launched the lid.
It shot forward at a speed that had to be Mach 3—maybe more. I'd shielded myself with a magnetic barrier, just in case. Good thing too.
As for him?
"Ahhh!" he screamed as the spinning disc sliced clean through his right arm, severing it at the elbow. Blood sprayed everywhere, and he crumpled to the ground, writhing in agony.
It was messy. Too messy.
And then I made another mistake.
I lifted the bullets scattered on the ground with a thought. Aiming at him, I prepared to end it.
'Tried' is the key word here.
"Don't do it!"
The voice was sharp, feminine, and piercing enough to cut through my adrenaline-fueled haze.
"If you do that, you'll turn into a criminal!"
I froze, finally noticing my surroundings. Reality came crashing back like a freight train.
The adrenaline faded, leaving me fully aware of the soul-ripping pain radiating from my bullet-riddled shoulder.
"Ugh!"
The bullets I'd been holding clattered back to the ground as I doubled over, clutching my shoulder.
Meanwhile, the man thrashed on the pavement, blood gushing from his severed arm.
Fuck, this hurts.
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