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**1962, CIA Secret Base, Nevada**
Jake stared at the file in his hands, the name "Chris Bradley" sparking a memory. He'd seen this guy in his past life's movies—an old ally of Wolverine, mixed up with Stryker's shady crew alongside Sabretooth and others. Bradley had bolted from that life, hiding out in an amusement park, using his electric powers to scam folks. His abilities were minor—powering light bulbs, charging elevators—but nothing combat-ready. Jake frowned. Why recruit him?
"Jake, something wrong?" Eric's sharp gaze locked onto him.
Jake shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."
"Alright. Get ready—we leave in thirty," Eric said, striding out of Charles' office.
"Charles, if that's it, I'll head out too," Jake said, standing.
Charles leaned back, his piercing blue eyes studying Jake. "I've told you a lot today. Aren't you curious about the enemy we're facing?"
Jake smirked. Charles, the telepath, could read most people like an open book, but Jake's mind was a blank to him. Probably the system's doing. "When it's time to know, you'll tell me, right?"
Charles chuckled, impressed by Jake's calm. "You're steadier than most, Jake. I trust you to handle what's coming."
Jake nodded and left, Charles' words lingering. The Black King's moves were picking up, and with a psychic shielding him, Charles' mind-reading tech was useless. He was stretched thin, which is why he was passing the torch to Jake.
Back at the dorms, the common room buzzed with mutants playing poker. "Yo, Jake!" Sean called, tossing a card. "What'd Eric want?"
"Gotta find someone," Jake said casually. "New recruit, maybe."
"Sweet! Another mutant?" Raven's eyes lit up. "Who is it?"
"Dunno yet," Jake said, dodging details. The others buzzed with excitement—mutants were rare, and meeting another felt like finding family in a world that saw them as freaks.
"Why's it always you?" the dragonfly-tattooed girl, Angel, asked, a hint of envy in her tone. "What makes you so special?"
Jake shrugged, grinning. "Maybe Eric just needs a guy who can lift his car."
The room laughed, but Angel's eyes narrowed. She could fly and spit acid, yet Jake's raw power set him apart.
In his room, Jake changed into a dark jacket and packed a small bag. Time was tight. He met Eric outside, where a black sedan waited.
"Eric," Jake greeted, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Jake," Eric replied, starting the engine. They pulled out of the base, the desert stretching endlessly around them.
As they drove, Eric's voice cut through the hum of the engine. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot," Jake said, glancing over.
"Do you think humans and mutants can ever get along? Live side by side?" Eric's tone was casual, but his eyes were intense.
Jake paused. "Charles thinks so."
"And you?" Eric pressed.
"Dunno," Jake admitted. "Look at how people treat anyone different—blacks, immigrants. They're barely tolerated. Mutants? That's a whole other fight. Even if Charles is right, it's gonna take a hell of a long time."
Eric nodded, his face unreadable. "Just curious."
Jake wasn't buying the "casual" act. Eric was testing him, gauging where he stood. But Jake let it slide, focusing on the road ahead.
---
**Springfield, Ohio**
The amusement park glowed with neon lights, the air thick with laughter and the clatter of rides. At a rundown booth, Chris Bradley slouched like a bored cat, his face half-lit by a flickering bulb.
"Hey, how's this work?" a blonde girl asked, eyeing the bulb with her boyfriend.
"Simple," Bradley drawled. "Turn off the light, win a prize. Buck for two tries."
The girl paid, flipped the switch—nothing. The bulb stayed bright. She yanked the plug. Still on. Her boyfriend unscrewed the bulb entirely, but it glowed in his hand.
"What the hell?" he muttered, grabbing the girl and bolting. "Freak!"
Bradley smirked, leaning back. In the crowd, a hulking figure watched, his grin showing sharp teeth. "Thunder man's got game," Sabretooth growled to a pale, silent man beside him. "Whaddaya think, Zero?"
Sabretooth stalked toward Bradley's booth, his steps heavy with purpose.
---