'Damn... That's bright.'
Max squinted and tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as the now-familiar ornate door materialized nearby him.
A steadily intensifying glow poured from its surface, radiating outward.
At first, it had shimmered like a distant mirage, wavering in and out of focus, but within moments it solidified into intricate detail, its carved patterns eventually emitting a super intense light.
Before he could go take a look at what was on the other side, a strange feeling came over Max, and yet another screen popped into his sight. If anyone else had been present, they would have been able to see the Marvel Jumpchain menu, just like Max, but not the new one he was currently checking out, with a sizable grin plastered on his face.
This one was for his eyes only - Max had just received his first 'notification' and 'prompt' from his new interface.
...
-The 'God Seed' inside of you is reacting to a nearby power, allow genetic changes to occur? Y/N?-
...
He took one last look at the floating holographic text, check-listing in his head while confirming his choices.
'Magneto. Domino. Destiny. Instinct... The car and the new fit should be all I need item-wise, really...'
"Seems legit... Yes?"
Max spoke the word out loud, and within moments, every strand of highlighted golden text from the Jump document seemed to burst into life, breaking free from the wall of words. The shimmering letters flew through the air, leaving the rest of the text behind as they began to swirl and dance around him in a brilliant, mesmerizing display—exactly the same as when he had received his new body.
With one final, graceful arc around Max, the golden words turned back and rushed into his eyes, causing him to float slightly and flashing with that same golden light like the first time this happened.
Something different happened this time, however.
"Arrrrgghh!"
Max started screaming in agony the moment the golden text entered his eyes, the effect of the 'cosmic anesthetic' he had received from Vespera had worn off.
From Max's perspective, the universe had shattered. A white-hot spike of agony drove into his skull, tracing down to his lower body and limbs. Max collapsed, his body floating with no resistance, yet still remaining stiff all over.
This wasn't a small upgrade to his new body; it was a renovation. He felt his DNA unspooling and reweaving. Every nerve ending screamed as the mutations and the 'Ugly' drawback took hold, twisting his features into something he couldn't yet see but could certainly feel.
Ten seconds. It felt like ten hours. When the pain faded, it left him with a cool, razor-sharp clarity and a handful of strange new senses tied to his mutations. It was as if he'd sprouted one or two entirely new sensory organs.
'Whew... well. That fucking sucked...'
Max drew in some deep breaths while dismissing his interface. He had just finished glancing over it quickly, noting the way it was organized with a satisfied smile at his 'stats' and other personal information, especially pleased with the new 'mutant-abilities' listed.
He turned toward the exit, scooping up his backpack up again before walking towards the glowing door.
The heavy slab of ancient, dark timber, framed by runes glowed with a faint, pulsing violet and golden light now, and the carvings—shifting gears and celestial patterns—seemed to move if he looked at them too long.
Max took a long, deep breath, adjusted his fresh tracksuit, and stepped through.
The transition was instant. The smell of mid-sized American city and old rubber hit him as he stepped out into a dimly lit used car lot in Bayville.
The magical door behind him didn't simply close and vanish; it transformed, its carved frame morphing into the rusted metal service door of the garage before him. Max stood transfixed, his eyes wide with fascination, as the building itself seemed to ripple and twist, reshaping and settling back into its ordinary form right before his astonished gaze.
Before he could think too much about it, his attention was immediately drawn to the center of this used car lot by a bright golden flash.
The sudden flash of light made him squint. In the center of the asphalt parking lot, as if it had always been there, sat a car.
This customized Porsche 993 was a masterpiece of aggressive, yet curvy design, its JGTC (Japanese Grand Touring Championship) inspired widebody kit catching the pale moonlight on every curve and sharp line.
'Exactly how I envisioned it... Just like the one I built in Gran Turismo last year!'
Max strode over with eager anticipation, peering inside before his hand moved toward the door handle.
There, resting on the driver's seat, lay a helmet—an awe-inspiring creation blending the iconic, regal crest of Magneto with the visor-sealed style of a Power Ranger!
His pulse picked up with anticipation as he instinctively slid a hand into his pocket, fingertips brushing over a small cluster of keys and the smooth curve of what seemed to be a tiny metallic sphere. Pulling the keys free, he felt the cool touch of the metal against his skin, each jagged edge sharp beneath his touch.
Much to Max's surprise it wasn't just a physical sensation—Max could feel the presence of the metal itself, as if it resonated with a new awareness within him. He remembered the moment they had seemed to materialize in his pocket, an uncanny occurrence that coincided precisely with the arrival of the car.
'Ah, so this is what it's like to be Magneto... Damn!'
A cool gust blew past him, and while he took in the crisp air, he suddenly had a thought. He kept the keys in one hand, and reached out with his other in the direction of a junked sedan twenty feet away in the lot.
He could feel the magnetic field of the Earth itself, a web of lines he could pluck like guitar strings.
He didn't strain. He just pulled. The car groaned, its frame lifting six inches off the ground with a rhythmic hum. Max flicked his wrist, and the vehicle settled back down as gently as a feather.
"Heh," he rasped, his voice sounding quite a bit deeper and rougher after the new changes to his body.
"GP well spent."
He unlocked the Porsche and hopped inside. The engine roared to life with a mechanical snarl that felt and sounded so, so good.
To Max, the flat-six engine waking up behind him was one of the most glorious symphonies ever composed using metal and fuel, each note a thrilling harmony while he revved it up a few times.
As his hand wrapped firmly around the gear shifter and he slid it into first, a sudden, vivid flash tore through his thoughts—a fleeting vision of a bald man seated in a wheelchair, his piercing gaze locked onto a shimmering holographic map of Bayville.
Destiny was speaking—or at least, his take on her powers was.
'The Professor.'
Max released the clutch and gave his new ride some throttle, opening the metal lock and the chain-link fence it held closed with his new power. He hadn't even been in the world for five minutes and the X-Men were already aware of his location.
'Should I let them catch up to me? Or just get out of town? No one said I had to become an X-Man or anything, right?'
The Porsche screamed out of the lot, leaving nothing but a trail of burnt rubber and a fading magnetic signature behind.
The roar of the Porsche's flat-six was... addictive to say the least. Every time he mashed the accelerator and felt the vibration of the chassis, it felt like an extension of his own soul.
As he crested the hill beyond the car lot, another premonition surged with vivid clarity, compelling him to swiftly place the helmet from the seat beside him onto his head. The mere thought of being in proximity to Jean Grey or the Professor ignited an urgent reminder to shield his thoughts from the probing reach of those relentless mind readers.
Max didn't bother using his hands; he just tilted his head to the right, and the red helmet floated off the seat, sliding neatly onto his head, a perfect fit!
After another five minutes of aggressive driving, two sets of headlights finally appeared in his rearview mirror.
One was black and had the solid, imposing presence of a armored SUV; the other, a sleek red sports car that Max instantly recognized from his memories of the cartoon 'X-Men Evolution'.
"Scott Summers," Max muttered, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "And he's brought their van too, packed with mutants, huh?"
Max tapped into his magnetic sense, picking up on every car within several miles. With his other heightened senses working in tandem, he weaved through traffic, darting between vehicles and coming so close he nearly brushed against them.
He knew exactly how much space he had, leaving only a millimeter between his Porsche and the cars he sped past, and when he was in fact too close, he would use his magnetism to slightly nudge the incoming cars and trucks out of his way with a slight push sideways.
"Alright, lady luck," he whispered, leaning into the wheel. "Let's make this interesting." He didn't floor it. Instead, he let the two quickly approaching vehicles get close, then he yanked the handbrake and initiated a perfect, sweeping drift into a narrow side street, more of an alley actually.
Behind him, Scott's red convertible's tires screeched and barely made the turn. In hot pursuit, the X-Men's leader was determined to track down the massive power surge the professor had detected with Cerebro.
Inside the X-Van, Jean Grey furrowed her brow as she sent a mental message back to the mansion, 'Professor, he's not just driving. It's like he knows where the traffic is before it appears.'
'Be careful, Jean. Anyone capable of masking their thoughts so effectively while manifesting such intricate power is a wild card. Scott, Kurt—herd him away from the civilians. We cannot afford a high-speed catastrophe in downtown Bayville.' The Professor answered telepathically, his voice resounding in their minds.
"Kurt, get ready, you heard the professor." Scott's voice crackled over the comms.
With his new 'instinct' ability, Max grasped the mechanics of his luck manipulation effortlessly and completely. Domino's power wasn't merely a passive shield to him—it was a controllable field of probability. He didn't have to be in a fight to set it in motion.
Moments later, a gust of wind caught a discarded cardboard box, blowing it directly onto Scott's windshield. "I can't see!" Scott shouted, swerving into several trash cans, crashing his car and causing the van to come to a screeching halt behind as well.
In that split second of chaos, Max saw a gap in the crowded alleyway. It was a space no wider than the Porsche itself. He shifted into third, the Porsche's mirror skimming the brick wall of the alley he was blasting through and a poorly parked car with a literal hair's breadth to spare.
"Kurt, now!"
Scott's frustrated voice crackled. A split second before the smell of sulfur hit the cabin, Max's Destiny mutation flared again. In his mind's eye, a translucent ghost of Kurt Wagner appeared in the passenger seat, fingers already lunging for the steering wheel in an attempt to force the Porsche to stop.
Max didn't flinch.
He didn't even turn his head.
BAMF!
Blue smoke suddenly exploded on Max's passenger seat. Nightcrawler appeared, looking apprehensive while starting to make a grab for the steering wheel.
"Hey! You need to pull over, mein Kamerad! The Professor just wants to—" Kurt stopped mid-sentence. He looked at Max's helmet, then down at the "ugly" hand gripping the shifter.
"Sorry, kid. I'm busy..." Max said.
"...Buckle up. It's a law for a reason."
The next moment, Max's magnetic will slammed into the seatbelt's retractor. The metal tongue of the belt didn't just slide; it fired across the cabin like a harpoon, snaring the teleporter mid-breath and locking into the buckle with a violent click.
"Nice of you to join me," Max quipped, his eyes fixed on the road, despite really wanting to take a look at the dark elf.
Max had seen the next three seconds play out in a shimmering overlay: Kurt reaching for the wheel, the car hitting a pothole, and Kurt's balance shifting. Max didn't wait for "chance." He steered into the pothole and stood on the brakes.
The Porsche's nose dived. The inertial reel in the seatbelt hissed and jammed tight, pinning Kurt against the seat with the force of a hydraulic press. For a teleporter who relied on momentum and freedom of movement, the sudden, impromptu mechanical trap felt like being entombed in steel.
BAMF!
Kurt vanished in a panicked reflex and puff of smoke, reappearing in the X-Van with a heavy roll.
"Verdammt! He's... he's got some kind of telekinetic-lock on the vehicle!" Kurt panted, checking his chest where the belt had bruised him. "It was like the car was waiting for me. The safety strap attacked me... It was ready."
"It's not the car," Jean's voice was tight, her fingers pressing against her temple.
'Professor, I can't get a read on his intent, and I can't connect with him, this driving... his coordination is impossible. He's reacting to our maneuvers before we even make them.'
"A high-level Technopath?" Scott suggested, having rejoined the chase again, he was extremely annoyed upon realizing the front end of his car had some serious cosmetic damage at this point, swerving and flooring it to keep the Porsche in sight. "Or maybe he's manipulating the metal chassis directly like... like a younger, faster Magneto?"
'I am not entirely sure, Scott,' the Professor's voice resonated in their minds, sounding unusually grim. 'His mind is like a barricaded fortress, something is blocking me out... but his actions suggest a mutation involving probability or chance. He isn't guessing where you or the other cars will be, Scott. He knows.'
The chase continued on for several more blocks, with random objects constantly impeding and harassing the pursuing X-Men, seemingly out of nowhere.
In the rearview, the red flash of Scott's convertible and the bulky shadow of the X-Van were closing in. Max felt Jean Grey's telepathic 'touch' brush against his helmet like a physical caress.
"Too bad, nice try though..." Max muttered. He didn't need to guess. He knew that she was trying to read his mind.
During the chase, Max had made up his mind. Maybe he would get to know the X-Men after all.
He didn't look for an exit or another street to turn onto. Instead, he reached out and gripped the very atoms of the Porsche's steel frame. With a sharp mental command, he snapped a violet-tinted magnetic envelope around the chassis—a vacuum-sealed forcefield designed to mitigate drag.
Then, he simply pulled.
The Porsche didn't just accelerate; it started to leave the road completely! Gravity became a suggestion as Max anchored his magnetic field to the Earth's ionosphere and yanked. The car lurched upward, its tires leaving the pavement at a forty-five-degree angle.
"Scott! He's airborne!" Jean's astonished voice crackled over the comms, her tone bordering on panic.
"Yeah... I can see that..."
Max ignored the world below as he gained altitude quickly. He pointed the nose toward the clouds and willed the car to accelerate under his magnetic force.
BOOM!
A white cone of vapor snapped around the Porsche as it shattered the sound barrier. The shockwave rattled the windows of downtown Bayville.
The X-Men, now standing outside of their stopped vehicles, stared at a receding violet spark that vanished into the night.
Inside the leather wrapped cabin, Max felt nothing. No G-force, no vibration. His control over the magnetic envelope was so precise he had created a pocket of perfect inertia. He was now cruising at Mach 1.5 and absolutely having the best time of his life!
Amazed at what he could now do, Max smiled uncontrollably behind the helmet.
"Xavier Institute. One minute or so away, I would say."
GPS? Max certainly didn't need that anymore. He could feel the specific electromagnetic signature of the sub-basement levels—the massive energy output of the Blackbird's hangar and the Cerebro unit. It was a lighthouse in the dark.
The supersonic scream faded into a haunting, metallic hum as the Porsche descended through the fog over the Bayville estate. Max brought the car down with surgical precision, the tires kissing the manicured grass of the front lawn with barely a rustle.
He cut the magnetic field. The car settled, its engine and exhaust cooling with a series of metallic pings. Max hadn't bothered to shut the engine off while in the air, he still wanted to listen to the music on the radio while flying, and besides, this thing wouldn't ever run out of gas!
Max stepped out, the door clicking shut with a heavy, metallic sound, like any good old car should. He leaned on the door, crossing his arms over his chest, his helmet visor reflecting the cold moonlight.
The sound of the front door opening drew his attention, a short, broad, muscular man wearing jeans, a flannel shirt and cowboy boots emerged. He paused, nose twitching slightly as if catching a scent, then slowly approached with a calm, predatory patience.
Max was giddy at this point. 'Holy shit... It's freaking Wolverine!'
"Bub... you're about ten years too young to be drivin'... or flyin', something that fast. And twenty years too dumb to be showin' up at Chuck's front door in a helmet like that. Nice car. You wanna talk, or are we gonna see if that German sled is scratch-proof?"
...
Nearly fifteen minutes passed before the X-Van and Scott's ruined convertible screamed up the driveway, their engines smoking from their desperate effort to get back to the mansion.
The three X-Men scrambled out, powers ready and eyes wide, freezing at the sight of the car and two men drinking beer waiting for them.
One of them was a gruff veteran of the X-Men who had just taken up a post at the school, the other, was a man they did not recognize at all, but the sight of his face made all three of them stop dead in their tracks!