[Personal Mind Manipulation]: You have direct and total control over your mental structure, being able to manipulate at will your own consciousness, memories, personality and everything connected to the brain and mind granting highly advanced capabilities. This allows both optimal efficiency and maximal comfort in all situations while preserving the user's ability to feel sensations and emotions. This ability also grants the user complete immunity to mind-altering abilities. Effectively the user's mind is entirely customizable, without any damage nor side-effects.
***
I'd spent the last few weeks in solitude—no parties, no business meetings or hunting gangs. No, this was preparation. For something dangerous.
I was going to meet Charles Xavier.
Not exactly meet him but there are chances that I would have too and I need to prepare for it. I ain't taking any chances.
He was still young, not yet the man who would one day be known as Professor X, founder of the X-Men, mind rapper, hypocrite and protector of mutants. But even now, he was already different—a telepath of extraordinary potential.
From what I remember, Charles had manifested his powers roughly three years ago in 1941. That gave him three years of development—of understanding his mind, honing his gifts, and growing into them.
And I needed them.
But copying his powers wouldn't be like lifting a street thug's brawling skills or absorbing a CEO's negotiation tactics. This was telepathy—the ability to read, control, and alter minds. If Charles so much as got suspicious, it could ruin everything.
So I prepared.
For that I have already copied meditation techniques and maxed it's level and even gained a powerful skill. And that new skill [Personal Mind Manipulation] is the perfect skill for what I had in mind.
"Let's start then." I said to the system and activated [Personal Mind Manipulation].
I entered my own mind.
And when I did… I built.
Using the combined knowledge of every scientist, architect, and computer engineer I'd encountered—layered atop my own past-life coding expertise—I began constructing a mental computer. It was more than a metaphor. In my mindscape, I created something tangible: a colossal machine of whirring processors, and neatly segmented memory banks, seated in the center of a shining white void.
Each memory, each thought, was indexed and cataloged.
Using code I remembered from my past life, I encoded my memories, creating hidden partitions that only I could access. I crafted surface-level memories—ones that fit the public identity I had forged: Magnus Brooks, a wealthy young investor from Boston, who inherited a modest fortune, studied abroad, and bought his way into Stark Industries with a clever hand and good instincts.
I even installed looping surface thoughts—harmless, believable musings about investments, women, philosophy, and the occasional fond recollection of boarding school mischief. All of it layered, compartmentalized, and polished until not even a telepath would suspect the truth beneath.
If Charles tried to peer into my mind… he would find only what I wanted him to find.
***
Two weeks later.
Westchester, New York.
I stood at a building looking at the Xavier's ancestral estate in Westchester. It was an old mansion, more stone and legacy than warmth. Ivy crawled up the outer walls. Birds chirped in the distance.
Charles Xavier's abilities at his peak represented an unparalleled asset. Even a fraction of his telepathic prowess would allow me to shape minds. His full powers would me one of the most powerful abilities in my arsenal.
I maintained surveillance from the wooded perimeter, my enhanced senses capturing details invisible to ordinary observers.
The household presented an ideal target environment:
Dr. Kurt Marko: Sharon Xavier's second husband—an abusive alcoholic whose marriage served only to access the Xavier fortune
Sharon Xavier: A woman retreated into alcoholism to escape her miserable reality.
Cain Marko: Kurt Marko's son an the bully of Charles. The future Juggernaut.
Charles Xavier: A remarkably gifted child, largely neglected, his extraordinary potential still dormant
For days, I documented the mansion's rhythms and routines. My opportunity arrived when Marko departed for the morning and Charles and Cain went for school. Leaving Sharon alone with her whiskey and regrets.
I breached the estate's minimal security with ease, my enhanced abilities allowing me to scale walls without sound. And I had skills related to Stealth. Even though they were not at level 10 but they were enough for now.
Within minutes, I navigated the interior. I located Charles's bedroom without difficulty. The space reflected its occupant: meticulously organized, childlike in essence, yet filled with literature far beyond typical juvenile interests. My objective, however, was purely biological.
A wooden hairbrush yielded several strands of fine brown hair—perfect specimens of Xavier DNA. I secured them within my coat, my pulse quickening with anticipation rather than fear.
The crucial phase could now commence.
Beneath the night's concealment, outside the mansion grounds, I activated my ability to absorb Charles Xavier's ability.
[Copy Active]
[DNA sample detected.]
[Ability Found: Telepathy (X-Gene)]
[Conditions: Strong Mind(fulfilled)]
[ETA: 1 Year]
I sighed.
I knew that it would take time but not this long. I knew that Telepathy being above Peak Human Potential would require conditions to be met before being copied but this is too long. And I still need to copy Charles skills and knowledge of his powers to be able to skillfully use this powers.
So I have no choice but to move onto my next plan without Telepathy. Though I do not need Telepathy for the it but still it would have been more safer with it.
***
I watched as Sharon consumed her remaining whiskey and stumbled to her feet. Minutes later, she departed for the nearest establishment, wrapped in her coat against the night's chill.
The bar's dim lighting concealed men escaping thoughts of war and women fleeing personal sorrows. Sharon occupied a counter seat, already consumed by her second drink.
I approached with calculated casualness, my demeanor projecting reassurance. She barely acknowledged me as I claimed the adjacent seat.
"You look like you could use some company," I offered smoothly.
Her bitter laugh preceded her response: "And you look like you could use a slap."
I ordered but scarcely touched my drink, instead employing playboy skills courtesy of Howard Stark to seduce Sharon.
Hours passed. Alcohol facilitated my seduction techniques. By our departure, she clung to my arm, transformed into someone almost youthful in her artificial happiness.
Mind Rapper Charles guess what I am gonna do it with your Mom and it's not r*pe.
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