Superior Reed Richards

"I already know what you want to ask, Hank," I said, casting a glance at Hank McCoy. My eyes locked onto his deep, contemplative gaze. "And again, it won't work with you."

The atmosphere in the room was tense, like the calm before a storm. After Barnell underwent secondary mutation, along with several other mutants for whom their mutation had become a curse, there were difficult questions and even more complex answers lingering in the air.

"You underwent a secondary mutation," I continued, staring into his eyes, trying to convey the gravity of my words. My tone was solemn, but filled with sympathy.

Hank McCoy hadn't always been this furry blue giant, evoking either fear or admiration at first glance. Initially, his mutation only granted him superhuman strength and minor physical differences, but through a series of his own experiments, Hank triggered a secondary mutation, drastically altering his appearance and essence.

"After that, it's impossible to return the body to its original state," I went on, each word carefully weighed and delivered with a heavy heart. "And the same applies to second-generation mutants. In such cases, there are no options for reverting to the original non-mutated state."

We had addressed this issue during discussions with Kurt Wagner, a representative of the second generation of mutants, whose mutation was both a blessing and a curse. Unlike most mutants whose powers manifest during puberty, second-generation mutants are born with altered DNA, making their cases unique.

In Hank's eyes, something ineffable flickered when he met my gaze. Perhaps it was resignation or a quiet sadness about his unchangeable condition.

"Haaah..." Hank sighed, his voice sounding both weary and resigned. "I had hoped that my situation could also be resolved."

"Is it really necessary for you to have a normal appearance?" I asked, piercing him with my gaze, searching for something deeper than a simple answer to the question. "I thought you didn't have any problems with socialization?"

My gaze happened to fall on the photographs scattered on the table. In them, Hank and a brunette were smiling at each other as if nothing else mattered. In these pictures, Hank's appearance was far from ordinary, but the happiness on their faces was undeniable and bright, like a beacon in the darkness.

Hank followed my gaze and, catching the essence of my observation, smirked. His smile was sad but tinged with irony and self-awareness.

"You're probably right," he said, his voice carrying a note of reason and wisdom accumulated over years of living among people who judge by appearances. His smile told the story of someone who had learned to find joy in the little things and see beauty where others saw only differences.

The moment stretched, filling the room with an atmosphere of understanding and warmth. A sense of peace settled on Hank's face as if he had reached an important conclusion through our brief conversation.

"You know," he continued, leaning back in his chair and gazing out the window at the spring greenery, "sometimes it seems to me that true strength lies not in how we look, but in how we accept ourselves and the world around us. And while there are times I'd like to return to my former appearance, I've realized that the real variable isn't our appearance, but how we perceive ourselves and how we can change the world for the better."

"Beautifully said," I replied.

BAM

The unexpected explosion shattered the calm, forcing us to abruptly end our heartfelt conversation. The air was filled with tension, and my heart leaped into my throat from the surprise. The room grew noticeably quieter, as if even the air had frozen in anticipation of what would happen next.

Hank quickly and deliberately pressed a few keys on his keyboard, and within moments, a video feed appeared on the large screen in front of us, showing what was happening outside. His calm actions contrasted sharply with the chaos unfolding on the screen.

The scene resembled something out of a superhero movie: Max Eisenhardt, better known as Magneto, and his Brotherhood of Mutants appeared out of nowhere in front of the building. Their figures stood out against the backdrop of smoke and fire, adding an apocalyptic hue to the scene. Magneto, in his iconic costume, looked unyielding, his eyes sparkling with determination and power.

"Is this a usual occurrence for you?" I asked Hank, not hiding my surprise as one eyebrow arched on its own.

Hank, maintaining his composure, shifted his gaze from the screen to me. In his eyes, I saw a shadow of fatigue, as if this really was just another day in the lab for him.

"Let's just say it's not that uncommon for us," he answered with a touch of irony in his voice, but his gaze remained focused and sharp. "But every time this happens, we try to be prepared for any surprises Magneto and his team might throw at us."

After our eyes met amidst the chaos on the screen, Hank suddenly furrowed his brow. His face grew still, and his gaze became distant, as if he was hearing a call imperceptible to my senses. I noticed subtle changes in his behavior, and my psionic energy sensors detected a surge of invisible force. It was clear that Hank was communicating with someone on a psionic level, and I didn't have to guess long who it might be.

"We need to get ready," Hank declared, returning to reality. His voice was resolute, and a spark of determination appeared in his eyes.

"What did Professor Xavier tell you?" I asked, feeling the tension in the air intensify.

McCoy looked at me, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the moment. The pause he took before answering filled the room with anticipation.

"Magneto's target is you, Reed," he said, and his words hit me like a bolt from the blue.

—= Charles Xavier =—

"So it's all about the device Hank and I built?" asked Reed Richards, his voice cutting through the tense silence of the school corridor. Around us was bustling activity and chaos, as the X-Men, along with Susan Storm, were engaged in a fierce battle with the Brotherhood and Magneto himself.

Professor Charles Xavier sighed heavily, his gaze lost in the endless corridor. In that sigh lay not only the weariness of leadership but also the disappointment of betrayal discovered within the very heart of his school.

"It wasn't hard to figure out," Reed continued, glancing at the dimly lit walls illuminated only by emergency lights. He stopped his gaze on Charles, trying to decipher his thoughts. "Especially considering Magneto's ideology."

Charles looked up at Reed, his gaze reflecting a mix of regret and determination. He knew the stakes were incredibly high, and any mistake could cost not just the success of the mission but also lives.

"Yes, Reed," Xavier finally said, his voice calm but weighted with gravity. "It's your device that has drawn his attention."

—//—

Max Eisenhardt, also known as Magneto. An Omega-level mutant capable of controlling the fundamental forces of the universe. I knew that one day I would have to face him, and for this reason, I gradually worked on a countermeasure against such a formidable opponent.

Thanks to my study of the X-gene, developing a countermeasure wasn't as difficult as it seemed.

"If I'm correct, Magneto wants to use our research for one purpose only, right?" I asked Charles. "He wants to enhance his followers' powers through secondary mutation?"

"Yes," Charles nodded.

"Hmm..." I muttered, realizing there was no point in explaining the intricacies of the process.

Magneto was unlikely to listen to the fact that creating a secondary mutation in an alpha-level mutant required a colossal amount of energy.

BAM

At that moment, Charles and I could see the battle between Ororo Munroe and Max Eisenhardt. The weather goddess directed a lightning bolt at Magneto, but unsurprisingly, it struck his shield.

"Diplomacy doesn't seem to be an option," I remarked.

—= Some Time Ago =—

Shadows danced on the walls of the vast command center on Asteroid M, creating an impression that the space itself breathed in unison with the tense atmosphere inside. Beyond the windows stretched the boundless cosmos, filled with stars and mysteries, but Max Eisenhardt, known as Magneto, was focused on the screen in front of him.

The light from the screen cast pale glimmers on his face, highlighting the determination and strength inherent in one of the most powerful mutants in history.

"...And thus Reed Richards accomplished what he did," the young mutant Pyro's words sounded like a message from another world, but for Magneto, they were a call to action.

Asteroid M, majestically floating in the cosmic void, maintained its orbit thanks to Magneto's invisible but mighty power. It was not just a refuge for the Brotherhood of Mutants but a symbol of their independence and strength.

"I see," Magneto's deep voice cut through the silence as he responded to Pyro. His words were full of recognition and confidence. "You did well, my brother."

Pyro, visible on the screen, nodded in agreement and respect before the connection was severed.

Magneto slowly rose from his seat, his majestic figure appearing even more imposing against the backdrop of the starry sky outside the window. He glanced around at the members of the Brotherhood gathered around him, each ready to follow him to the end. His voice was firm and unwavering:

"Prepare yourselves. We must act."

At that moment, as Magneto's words filled the room, everyone present felt the weight of the upcoming events. Determination burned in their hearts, and the air vibrated with anticipation. The Brotherhood of Mutants was ready to follow their leader into any battle, into any challenge they would have to face.

—= Present =—

Thanks to the battle between Susan and the X-Men against Magneto and the Brotherhood of Mutants, I had enough time to come up with what I believed was the best solution to the situation.

"Tell them to bring Magneto to this location," I commanded, pointing to a spot on the School's map displayed on the wall. Every detail of this plan was thought out, every corner of the map had its significance in the upcoming confrontation.

Charles Xavier, who was managing the communication between the mutants, nodded.

"Reed, are you sure this will work?" Hank asked, his voice reflecting genuine concern and professional skepticism. Known as Beast, Hank was not only the strength of the X-Men but also their intellectual core.

His doubts were justified, as he believed my plan involved creating a weapon from composite materials designed in a way that Magneto couldn't control.

"Of course," I replied, knowing that my real plan was something else entirely.

—= Inner Courtyard =—

Under the shimmering sky, charged with the energy of the battle, stood Magneto, majestic and unwavering. His eyes, burning with a cold fire, were fixed on Susan Storm, who, together with Ororo Munroe, had accomplished the impossible—penetrated his seemingly impenetrable shield.

"You've surprised me," his voice, a mix of respect and sarcasm, cut through the air like a metallic spear he wielded so skillfully. Despite the circumstances, there was sincerity in his words; he hadn't expected these two powerful women to threaten his defense.

Magneto, the master of magnetism, made a gesture, summoning a metallic storm. Numerous metal objects surrounding the battlefield transformed into spears, each capable of becoming a deadly weapon in his hands. These spears, aimed at his opponents, were ready to rain down on them like a storm of steel.

However, the air suddenly froze. The countless spears halted mid-air as if suspended by invisible threads. Magneto sensed an unexpected resistance to his attack. Susan Storm, intently focusing on the metallic whirlwind, raised a powerful force field in front of her, blocking the spears. Simultaneously, Jean Grey, with her unmatched telekinetic abilities, restrained part of the weapons that Susan's field couldn't reach.

The corners of Magneto's lips curled into a cunning smile. He admired the skill and strength of his opponents but was also prepared for escalation.

"And what will you do about this?" he challenged, as necessary energy began to gather above his right palm, sparkling and pulsating, foretelling the next phase of the battle.

Just as Magneto was about to unleash a burst of energy toward his enemies...

BAM

Everything before Magneto's eyes blurred.

"This," Magneto heard the voice of the one responsible for his presence in this very place.

—= Reed Richards =—

As the atmosphere reached its peak of tension, and Magneto began to gather a powerful energy burst, clearly intending to remove Susan Storm and Ororo Munroe from his path, my instincts sharpened to their utmost. I felt every cell in my body fill with determination and focus. In that critical moment, I realized the time for waiting was over, and the time to act had arrived.

My hand, confidently holding the weapon designed specifically for this moment and made entirely of composite material to prevent Magneto's control, did not waver.

Though devoid of metal parts, my weapon represented the pinnacle of scientific thought and engineering art, capable of making a decisive impact on the battle's outcome.

BAM

The energy burst hit Magneto, causing him to fall from the sky. As everything fell into place, I knew it had worked. Everyone else thought it was the composite weapon shooting an energy burst that broke Magneto's shield, but in reality, it was a bit more complex.