"When I was very young, I made a promise to myself—one day, I would make myself normal. It's been my dream for as long as I can remember."
"Alex, I don't know if you can understand what that feels like. You look normal. When you walk down the street, no one stares at you like you're some kind of freak."
"But I'm different. I've had enough of that."
Hank's voice interrupted Alex's thoughts.
"So, Hank, what exactly do you need from me?"
Although Alex had already guessed what Hank was about to ask, he still pretended not to know and asked calmly.
"Alex… I know this might sound a bit presumptuous, but… would it be possible for me to collect a sample of your blood?"
Hank hesitated before finally saying it aloud.
"I've been working on a formula to cure myself, and I've made a breakthrough. I'm just one step away—but I need a reference sample to complete it."
"I only need a small amount."
He looked at Alex with hopeful eyes.
"I'm sorry, Hank, but I'm not comfortable with that."
Alex rejected him without hesitation.
After all, his body had been altered by the system, not by natural X-gene mutation.
Yes, Alex technically did possess an X-gene, and he was a bona fide mutant. Otherwise, why would Professor X have brought his past self to the CIA's secret facility?
As for Alex's mutant ability—well, it didn't usually manifest in daily life. But in certain circumstances, it could be extremely useful: underwater breathing.
His skin could absorb oxygen directly from his surroundings.
Of course, Alex's underwater breathing was nothing like The Deep from The Seven.
The Deep had physical gills on his torso, a complete biological transformation.
Alex had nothing like that.
His body looked perfectly normal. He didn't need to gulp water into his lungs to extract air—he could simply absorb it from the surrounding water.
To be honest, it was a pretty niche ability. Most of the time, it was more of a gimmick than a game-changer.
He'd never told anyone about it.
Up to this point, everyone—including Charles—assumed his powers all came from the Homelander template granted by the system.
Given that, there was no way he was going to let Hank casually take a blood sample.
"No, no, Alex, I should be the one apologizing. I know it was an intrusive request to begin with."
Though a little disappointed, Hank still managed a polite smile.
"Hank, you said all you needed was a blood sample from a mutant who appears 'normal,' right?"
Just as Hank turned to leave, Alex suddenly spoke up.
"Yes… why do you ask?" Hank blinked, confused.
"In that case, I may not be able to give you mine, but I might be able to get you someone else's."
Alex's tone was light, almost casual.
To him, it really wasn't a big deal.
Whether it was his inevitable showdown with the Black King, or his long-standing feud with Stryker, conflict with other mutants was unavoidable.
Picking up a few blood samples along the way? That was easy.
"Alex, thank you!" Hank's face lit up. "But if it's going to trouble you—"
"It's no trouble at all. Helping a friend isn't a big deal."
"Thank you, Alex. Really. I don't know what else to say."
"Then don't. It's getting late—two guys chatting alone at night? It's a little awkward, don't you think?"
Hank left, visibly relieved.
Even though Alex had only given him a verbal promise and nothing more, Hank believed in it. If Alex said he'd help, he would.
Once Hank was gone, Alex couldn't help but think back. In the original film, hadn't Hank only taken Mystique's blood?
Clearly, his arrival had already altered the course of events.
If Hank ended up getting a different mutant's sample this time… would he still turn into "Beast Hank"?
Alex found himself genuinely curious.
---
The Next Morning
"Morning, Alex!"
"Morning, Siryn. Raven. Havok."
At the crack of dawn, the young mutants were already up. The sky was just beginning to glow pale; the sun hadn't even risen yet.
Back at the CIA base, this would've been unthinkable.
Back then, they were a bunch of lazy slackers who wouldn't wake up unless the sun was high in the sky.
But now, after intense training under Charles and Erik, every part of their lives had changed.
They scarfed down breakfast in the cafeteria, exchanged greetings, and then regrouped at the training field.
Charles and Erik were already waiting for them.
But something felt off—Moira, who was usually by Charles's side taking notes and helping out, was nowhere to be seen.
Though curious, Alex didn't ask right away.
Instead, he waited until Charles started the day's training session, then quietly approached Erik.
"Moira received a lead. She's out investigating it."
Erik didn't wait for Alex to ask. He offered the explanation directly.
Alex nodded without further comment, though he wasn't optimistic about the investigation.
As far as he remembered, in the original movie timeline, no one had managed to locate the Black King before the final showdown during the Cuban Missile Crisis.
But then again, movies could only show so much. What the audience saw was only a fraction of what might've happened.
This world Alex was in—this was real. If Moira had actually found a lead on Shaw, it was entirely possible.
Maybe that part just got cut from the "film."
Then again, with his arrival, the timeline might've already veered off course.
After all, in the original story, Shaw had never suffered the kind of defeat he had now.
"Alex, tell me—if we do find Shaw… would you stop me from killing him?"
Erik suddenly asked, looking at Alex with intense seriousness.
"Why would I?"
Alex shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Unlike Charles, he wasn't a bleeding-heart idealist.
Erik's desire for revenge—avenging his mother's death—was perfectly justified.
And Alex couldn't think of a single reason to stop him.
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