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A full moon emerged from behind dark clouds, casting its silvery light on the open area of the base.
Charles leaned slightly, supporting himself on the corridor railing, and glanced sideways at Moira. "Why the sudden interest in Caesar?"
Moira turned her face away, not wanting to answer directly. Fearing that Charles might read her mind, she replied evasively, "According to you, he's a Mutant too, and a noble Duke from England. If he joins us, it might improve our chances against the Hellfire Club."
"Caesar?" Charles's lips twitched slightly.
"Is his mutated ability unsuitable for combat?" Moira asked, looking at him in surprise.
"No," Charles shook his head. "Rather than saying his abilities are unsuitable for combat, it's more accurate to say I don't know what his specific mutated ability is."
"How is that possible?" Moira was genuinely surprised.
"It's the truth. Despite living under the same roof for years, Caesar is the only person I've never been able to fully understand," Charles said, shrugging in frustration. "My abilities, from childhood to now, have never been able to penetrate Caesar's consciousness. Even when he's asleep and most vulnerable. If ordinary people's consciousness is like a regular house where you can enter once you find the door, his is like a highly encrypted super-safe."
"What kind of person is he, exactly?" Moira asked, her mouth slightly agape, asking the question for the second time.
"Well," Charles scratched his head and pointed at the sky, "He comes from above."
"Above?"
"Yes. When I was under ten, the night I met Raven, Caesar descended from the sky, like a meteor, crashing into my yard and making a huge hole. Yet, he emerged completely unharmed. He was homeless so he naturally stayed at my house for a while."
"You're quite the weirdo yourself," Moira remarked upon hearing Charles's response. Allowing mysterious strangers into one's home isn't something ordinary people would do.
Moira caught the main point and asked, "Wait, so Caesar was only about three or four years old at that time?"
"Yes. He was much younger than us. Originally, Raven and I treated him like a younger brother. But as we grew closer…"
Charles's eyes took on a complex expression. "Caesar was surprisingly mature even then, and… Given my Mind-Class mutated abilities, my brain development far exceeds that of ordinary people. I can memorize everything instantly and excel at everything I try. I'm undoubtedly a prodigy. But even at home, I still had to turn to Caesar for things I didn't understand. He was a special figure who was both a teacher and a friend to me."
Moira pondered and responded, "Caesar is also a genius?"
"A genius?" Charles couldn't help but laugh. "I've never seen him study. It's as if he was born knowing everything, he is like a natural genius. In his presence, all those who call themselves geniuses would feel inferior."
Moira was increasingly shocked by Charles's high praise. As an agent of the CIA, she already considered Charles to be among the top geniuses, but it seemed Caesar's level of genius was even beyond that.
"Alright. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we need to find out the whereabouts of the Hellfire Club," Charles yawned and headed toward his room, waving goodbye to Moira.
Moira stood still, lost in thought.
"Oh, and," Charles stopped, without turning around, and said seriously, "Rather than thinking about recruiting Caesar, it might be better to look for other Mutants. If Caesar wanted to take action, the world's situation might already be developing in the direction he imagines."
With that cryptic remark, Charles continued walking, his figure disappearing around the corridor corner, leaving Moira alone in the hallway, deep in thought.
Neither of them noticed that around the corner of the corridor, Erik stood with his back against the wall, silently listening to their conversation.
"Caesar, huh…" Erik muttered to himself, his fists clenching quietly.
In America, New York, a city nightclub late at night.
Looking around at the lively, neon-lit environment, Azazel turned to Caesar and asked in surprise, "Master, why are we here?"
"To gather intelligence," Caesar replied matter-of-factly.
Azazel was puzzled, "You want to find out information? Master, I can help you access intelligence databases from various countries."
"Big Red, you don't understand," Caesar said dismissively. "Doing something like that would be so boring. It's not like this place where there's fine wine and beautiful women to chat with. Besides, the information I need isn't in any national intelligence database— why? Because I've already seen all of it years ago."
Azazel nodded, "Understood."
"Let's go then," Caesar said, leading Azazel, who had put on a hat, into the bar.
Caesar was a frequent visitor to most bars and nightclubs in the world. As soon as they entered, a bunny girl led them to a vacant table. However, as they passed through the dance hall, Caesar suddenly spotted a familiar figure and abruptly stopped.
"What's wrong, Master?" Noticing his unusual behavior, Azazel also looked in that direction.
There, sitting alone at a table, was a man in his thirties with black hair sticking up like wolf ears. He had a rugged, scarred face with a beard and was wearing a worn leather jacket, drinking alone in a sullen manner.
"An acquaintance," Azazel squinted, his beast-like sharpness immediately recognizing that the man was a Mutant— and a very dangerous and powerful one.
"Acquaintance?" The bunny girl asked curiously.
"It's not your concern. You can go now and bring three glasses of brandy," Caesar said, handing her some hundred-dollar bills. The bunny girl didn't mind, took the money, swayed her hips with a smile, and left.
"Let's go," Caesar waved, leading Azazel towards the man.
"Master, shall we sit here?"
"Interested in having a drink, old man?"
Azazel and Caesar took seats on either side of the man, effectively surrounding him.
"Get the hell away from me!" The man, still holding his drink, slammed his glass down and cursed, showing his volatile temperament.
Azazel's expression changed slightly, surprised by the man's hostility.
"Hey, take it easy, my friend," Caesar said with a smile, looking at the familiar figure with deep emotions.
He never expected to run into him in another timeline.
Wolverine, Logan.
The lone wolf from the X-Men universe, whose family was brutally murdered, who turned against his own brother, and who is still wandering to this day.
"Get lost, you little punk. Since when did I become your friend?" Logan said while lighting a cigar and grumbling.
The unexpected familiarity made Caesar smile involuntarily. "That's not certain. Perhaps in another timeline, we're not just friends but might even be family."
(End of Chapter)
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