"Mr. Rorschach, goodbye."
"Goodbye, Jarvis."
At an intersection on 75th Street in New York, Rorschach waved casually to Jarvis as the butler offered him a polite farewell before driving away.
As the car disappeared into traffic, Rorschach's gaze drifted toward another vehicle parked farther down the street.
A faint, disdainful smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth.
That car had been following him the entire way.
Rorschach already knew exactly who had sent it.
Peggy Carter.
He hadn't expected her reaction to his strength to be quite this intense.
Of course, Rorschach wasn't a trained agent. He didn't possess the specialized counter-surveillance skills that intelligence professionals relied on.
But once he realized Carter wouldn't give up so easily, identifying the tail behind him became simple.
All he had to do was listen.
With his enhanced hearing, it took almost no effort to confirm the situation.
To be honest, if Peggy Carter had approached him politely, Rorschach might not have hidden anything at all. Being a mutant wasn't something shameful.
He had never harmed anyone.
Why should he feel the need to conceal it?
But with Carter's current attitude, Rorschach had no interest in cooperating.
And he certainly wasn't going to let someone quietly follow him home.
That was exactly why he had asked Jarvis to drop him off on 75th Street.
"Agent Carter," Rorschach murmured under his breath, "I'm not someone you can push around."
Without hesitation, he turned around and walked straight toward the black car that had been tailing him.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He tapped on the window.
A moment later, the glass rolled down, revealing a middle-aged man sitting in the driver's seat with a half-eaten hot dog in his hand.
The man glared at Rorschach and pretended not to recognize him.
"Kid, what do you want?" he barked. "Move along and stop bothering me."
Rorschach didn't bother responding.
Instead, he simply reached into the car and grabbed the man by the collar.
With one effortless pull, he dragged the man out of the vehicle.
Then he lifted him straight into the air.
The middle-aged man, who easily weighed over two hundred pounds, looked completely helpless in Rorschach's grip.
He dangled like a child's toy.
"Go back and tell Peggy Carter something for me," Rorschach said calmly.
His voice carried a faint hint of mockery.
"Tell her not to bother me again."
"My temper won't always be this good."
Before the man could respond—
Rorschach tossed him upward.
Whoosh!
The agent flew through the air and crashed onto the roof of a nearby building.
The impact rattled his entire body, making it feel as though every bone had been shaken loose.
Meanwhile, Rorschach calmly adjusted his jacket as if nothing unusual had happened.
He walked down the street, blending smoothly into the evening crowd.
Within moments, he disappeared.
The poor agent remained sprawled across the rooftop, shivering and nearly in tears.
What kind of monster had Chief Carter asked him to follow?
After dealing with the tail, the rest of Rorschach's trip was uneventful.
He returned to Xavier Manor without any trouble.
But the atmosphere inside surprised him.
The hall was full of lively conversation and laughter.
The gloomy tension that had hung over the place earlier was completely gone.
As soon as Rorschach walked inside, several people immediately came over to greet him.
Ever since the incident with the Black Emperor, Rorschach had firmly established his reputation among the mutants.
"Rorschach, man, that was incredible!"
Sean's eyes sparkled with excitement as he looked at him.
"You actually saved Howard Stark. That's insane."
Clearly Raven had already told everyone the story.
"Yeah," Alex added enthusiastically. "That might be the craziest thing I've ever heard. And definitely the coolest."
Even Darwin, who was usually calm and composed, couldn't hide his curiosity.
"Rorschach, what was Stark like in person?" he asked. "Is he easy to get along with?"
It was understandable.
Howard Stark was an extremely important figure in the public eye.
For these young mutants, hearing that one of their own had personally saved someone like Stark was shocking.
It was the kind of story that felt unreal.
It was like discovering that a college roommate had once rescued a world-famous billionaire.
The excitement was impossible to ignore.
"Mr. Stark is a pretty good guy," Rorschach said with a playful smile.
He dropped onto the sofa and stretched comfortably.
"Other than the fact that he's not quite as handsome as I am, there's really nothing wrong with him."
Laughter erupted around the room.
The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful.
With Sebastian Shaw no longer posing an immediate threat, the mutants had temporarily settled into Xavier Manor while waiting for Charles and the others to return.
For many of them, this kind of peaceful life was something they had never experienced before.
Some of them even secretly hoped Charles would take a little longer to come back.
Meanwhile—
Across the city.
In the Bronx.
A crumbling abandoned building stood in the middle of a filthy courtyard filled with garbage and stagnant water.
Yet parked among the decay was a sleek Cadillac that looked completely out of place.
In front of the car stood four men.
William Stryker.
Wade Wilson—who had not yet become the infamous Deadpool.
And two ordinary-looking agents.
At least, that was the visible group.
Hidden on nearby rooftops and shadows were several snipers placed carefully by Stryker as additional security.
It was obvious they were waiting for someone.
"Sir," Wade began complaining again, "you know I have a slight issue with germs. And the smell around here is making my stomach reconsider all of its life choices."
"Shut up, Wade," Stryker snapped impatiently.
Wade fell silent immediately.
But Stryker knew it wouldn't last.
Ten seconds later, the chatter would start again.
Fortunately, another car finally pulled into the courtyard.
A tall man with long hair stepped out.
He wore a black coat and carried himself with the confidence of someone who was used to being obeyed.
The person Stryker had been waiting for had arrived.
"I thought I made it clear," the man said coldly as he approached.
"Try to keep unnecessary meetings to a minimum."
"I prefer staying out of sight."
"Only the weak obsess over staying hidden," Stryker replied calmly.
"The strong solve problems."
The man—Lucien—clearly had no interest in hearing Stryker's philosophy.
"Why am I here?" he asked bluntly.
"Because our last cooperation went well," Stryker said. "And I'd like to hire more of your people."
Lucien shook his head immediately.
"No."
"Our cooperation ended a long time ago."
His voice carried a hint of irritation.
"I helped you capture the person you wanted. I kept my promise."
"But you never found the man I asked you to locate."
He folded his arms.
"And besides, you already have mutants now. You don't need my people anymore."
Stryker's expression darkened.
"I do need them," he replied.
"Logan is gone. Zero and Sabretooth are dead."
"My mutant team has fallen apart."
He gestured toward Wade.
"At this point, he's the only one I have left."
"That sounds like your problem," Lucien replied flatly.
"You know the situation my people are in. I can't afford to expose them."
His tone grew colder.
"Three days ago, three of my pack were beaten to death by some European guy."
"I chose not to pursue the matter."
"So I'm sorry, Stryker. But this conversation is over."
Lucien had spoken casually.
But Stryker's eyes suddenly narrowed.
A man capable of killing a werewolf was no ordinary person.
Possibly a mutant.
And the killer had been described as European.
Stryker remembered something immediately.
After Sabretooth's death, he had commissioned a sketch artist to recreate the face of the mysterious attacker.
The witnesses hadn't seen the man clearly—the scene had been dark, and the description was unreliable.
But one detail had been unmistakable.
The killer wasn't American.
He was European.
.....
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