For the next few days, Ethan kept experimenting with his abilities in the most secluded spots of the orphanage.
Of course, staying inside his room was the safest option. Luckily, his two former roommates had already been adopted, leaving him with the entire space to himself—at least for now.
But it didn't take long for him to realize something important.
Vector control was powerful. Too powerful.
Forces weren't just something you applied. They interacted, canceled each other out, and could shift in unpredictable ways.
A slight miscalculation could cause conflicting forces, and if he wasn't careful, whatever he was trying to control could end up getting shredded apart.
If he kept experimenting in his room, there was a real chance he'd wreck the place before he even figured out how his powers worked.
And Ms. Emma? Yeah, she'd probably kick him out before he got a handle on things.
After several days of testing, Ethan finally reached a point where he could use his powers with some consistency.
Full control? That would take much longer. He remembered something about how Accelerator—the character from that anime he vaguely recalled—could master vector control because he performed complex calculations in his mind before making a move.
That level of precision came from extensive training and enhanced brain function.
Ethan? He was just a regular guy who barely passed algebra.
Still, he found a workaround.
Reflection.
Instead of actively manipulating vectors, he could set up an automatic defense—bouncing back anything that hit him.
A bullet? It'd reverse its kinetic energy and shoot back at the attacker.
A punch? It'd land with the same force right back on whoever threw it. Lasers, missiles—whatever. As long as it had force behind it, his power would send it back.
The best part? He didn't even need to think about it. Reflection worked like breathing—completely automatic.
If something dangerous came his way, his subconscious would trigger it before he even noticed the attack.
And in a world like this? That was a lifesaver.
This wasn't some peaceful reality where the biggest worry was rent and traffic. This was the Marvel Universe.
One minute, you're minding your business, and the next, the Hulk and some other overgrown maniac are using New York as their personal wrestling ring.
Property destruction? Casualty count? Good luck with that.
And now, on top of all that, he was a mutant.
The mutant registration bill was already making headlines, and the last thing he wanted was to get caught up in some government crackdown.
If he wanted to survive in this world, he had to get stronger.
Before, he never even considered it—just making it to adulthood in this crazy city was enough of a struggle. But now? Now he had power. Now he had options.
"So, this is where you've been hiding."
Katie's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"What's with you? Feels like you've been avoiding everyone lately."
"What? No way. That's gotta be your imagination." Ethan quickly dropped the twisted steel pipe he'd been gripping a little too hard and forced a casual grin.
Katie crossed her arms. "Right. Sure. Well, whatever. Ms. Emma's looking for you."
"For me?" Ethan frowned. "Why?"
"A family showed up looking to adopt. She wants everyone to gather in the garden."
Ethan let out a short laugh. "What, does she think I still have a shot at getting picked?"
Katie shrugged. "Well, here's the weird part—after they arrived and heard about you, they specifically asked to meet you."
Ethan stiffened. "They asked for me? By name?"
She nodded.
Adopters? Or… human traffickers? Maybe some shady group looking for young, able-bodied workers.
He could already imagine being shipped off to some off-the-grid facility, forced to work under miserable conditions. Classic human trafficking scenario.
"Guess I'll go find out," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. If they were just a regular couple looking to adopt, no big deal. But if they had some other motives… well, that could be interesting.
And, honestly? He kind of hoped for the latter.
Ethan knew his time at the orphanage was coming to an end. Soon, he'd age out and be on his own. Even as a mutant, making money wouldn't be easy.
After all, most ways to get rich quick were outlined in a neat little pamphlet called the United States Federal Constitution—none of which worked in his favor.
And if he tried using his abilities for something less than legal? Well, that would put him on the radar of S.H.I.E.L.D., the military, other mutants, or even some sketchy research lab looking for their next experiment. That was a headache he definitely didn't need.
Still, if some idiot with bad intentions and no real backup happened to cross his path, well… let's just say his rent for the next month might be covered.
With those thoughts running through his mind, Ethan nearly walked straight into someone—an older woman with sharp features and blonde hair.
"Ms. Emma—sorry!" he said quickly, taking a step back.
"You certainly took your time," Ms. Emma said with a sigh. "Mr. Xavier has been waiting to see you. Let me introduce you—"
"Oh, hell no… old bald head?!" Ethan blurted out, eyes widening in shock.
He couldn't help it. Sitting in front of him was a bald man in a suit, relaxed in a wheelchair. The moment Ethan laid eyes on him, a deep, instinctive sense of dread clawed at him—the same dread that had plagued his nightmares for days.
Behind the old man stood two other people: a guy in tan sunglasses and a woman with striking white hair. They were odd-looking, sure, but Ethan's focus remained locked on the bald man.
"Ethan, that is incredibly rude." Ms. Emma's disapproving voice snapped him out of his daze.
Ethan forced himself to shake it off. "Uh… sorry," he muttered.
"It's quite alright," the bald man said, his voice calm and measured. He studied Ethan with an expression that was both kind and knowing. "We finally meet in person."
Ethan stiffened. Meet in person? What the hell was that supposed to mean? His gut told him something was off—something was very off.
Was this guy the reason he had been having those nightmares? It sure as hell felt like it.
"Who are you?" Ethan asked warily. His mood was already on edge, and the urge to punch this old man in the face was real. Not that he would… at least, not with Ms. Emma standing right there.
Before the bald man could answer, Ms. Emma reached for Ethan's hand, giving it a light squeeze. "Ethan, I understand you're feeling out of sorts today," she said gently, though there was an undeniable firmness to her tone.
She turned back to the bald man with an apologetic smile. "Mr. Xavier, this child had a fever recently. He's still recovering, so he's a bit… disoriented. Normally, he's very intelligent and kind."
Ethan barely registered her words. Something strange was happening. The air around them felt… still. Too still. He turned his head slightly—and that's when he noticed it.
Everyone around them was frozen.
Ms. Emma's lips were slightly parted, her expression caught mid-sentence. The other kids and staff in the background? Motionless, as if someone had hit the pause button on reality itself.
The only person moving was the bald man.
Ethan's heartbeat spiked as the wheelchair rolled forward, closing the distance between them. "My name is Charles Xavier," the man said smoothly, his voice unwavering. "I'm the headmaster of a special school for gifted youngsters. Most people call me Professor X."
He gestured to the two behind him. "These are my students—Cyclops and Storm. Like you, they're different. Special."
Ethan didn't respond. He was too busy trying to figure out how to get the hell out of this weird mind-trap.
Professor X smiled knowingly. "You are not alone, Ethan. You never have been." His voice was calm, reassuring. "We are your family. And we've come to take you home."
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