Superior Reed Richards

Max Eisenhardt hadn't felt this weak in a long time. The last time he remembered feeling this feeble was in his youth, before his powers had awakened, during his early years in Auschwitz.

To be honest, he never expected to feel this weak again. Such confidence came from having mastered his powers.

"What have you done?" Magneto whispered, lifting his gaze to Reed Richards, who held the weapon that had rendered him powerless once more.

—= Reed Richards =—

While working with Hank, I managed to not only develop the capsule for correcting problematic mutations but also create a mental blueprint for a device that could disable a mutant's powers.

The device, dubbed the "Mutagenic Inhibitor," was a compact yet sophisticated mechanism, about the size of a book, with a sleek, silver surface that pulsed with a subtle light. The inhibitor was equipped with microscopic sensors capable of detecting and analyzing mutations at the genetic level. Its operating principle was based on emitting a specific spectrum of energy that interacted with mutant genes, temporarily blocking their activity without harming the organism itself.

The duration of its effect varied from mutant to mutant. It depended on the mutant's strength—a powerful omega-level mutant like Magneto would regain his abilities in about 20-30 minutes, while an alpha-level mutant might take an hour or two.

Completely eradicating the X-gene proved to be a more challenging task. From what I had studied, it seemed impossible to permanently remove it in someone like Magneto. It always came down to temporary suppression.

"What are you waiting for?!" I shouted at the X-Men, who were staring at Magneto.

The X-Men, gathered around, couldn't hide their surprise. Their gazes were fixed on Magneto, who, despite the temporary suppression of his powers, exhibited an incredible will to resist.

Magneto, his clothing slightly ruffled by the tense air around him, began to rise. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, now sparkled with defiance and unwavering determination. Despite the temporary loss of his abilities, his inner strength seemed undiminished.

I adjusted the weapon to its next mode, which was designed to knock Magneto out.

The weapon's interface, customized to the unique features of my body, allowed for effortless mode switching, as if the creator's thoughts flowed directly into its mechanisms. The neural network model embedded in the weapon system represented the pinnacle of engineering, ensuring absolute accuracy without the need to aim in the traditional sense.

My eyes met Max's. At that moment, I pulled the trigger.

BAM

To my astonishment, the target was no longer there. Magneto had vanished like a ghost, leaving behind only the shimmering air, an echo of his presence.

The air was thick with the electricity of anticipation as Pietro Maximoff, his silhouette barely discernible in a blur of motion, seemed to slice through the space around us. His speed made him almost invisible, leaving behind only blurred outlines and a faint rustle of air. His voice, light and confident, stood in stark contrast to the grim silence enveloping us.

"Sorry, but I can't let you do that," his words hung in the air like notes played against the backdrop of the swirling sea of time and fate.

"Do you think you can escape now?" I asked him.

Pietro merely smirked and replied, "And do you think you can keep us here?"

I couldn't fathom the source of Pietro's confidence, but I readied the weapon to neutralize the X-gene.

"Let's see..."

Suddenly, without warning, the space around us was illuminated by red flashes, creating the illusion that time had momentarily frozen. The sparks, dancing in the air like stars igniting in the night, painted the world in warm hues of threat and anticipation. The smell of sulfur, heavy and piercing, instantly filled the air, a stark reminder of the nature of the conflict we were in.

"What the?!" Bobby Drake exclaimed.

The last flash revealed the smirking red-skinned mutant, who looked at us as if we were children amusing him.

I knew this mutant well but didn't expect him to appear in this battle. Azazel, an ancient mutant who had influenced the image of the devil in this world, possessed the same teleportation powers as Kurt.

"Apparently, I need to work on processing speed," I muttered, looking at the weapon.

Standing in the smoke-filled, red-tinged void of the battlefield, my thoughts unexpectedly turned to the future. An inner voice persistently whispered about the inevitability of confronting the extraordinary abilities of Azazel and Kurt, whose teleportation skills posed a challenge that required immediate and innovative solutions. This task, like a puzzle, awaited its time in the depths of my mind, offering a new level of challenge to my scientific and strategic abilities.

"I take it you know him?" I asked as Hank and Charles, two pillars of wisdom and experience, slowly approached me, making their way through the lingering chaos in the air. They both embodied resilience and determination, despite the weight of the trials they had endured.

"Unfortunately," Charles' voice, tinged with a note of sadness and disappointment, momentarily halted time around us. In his eyes—deep abysses of knowledge and understanding—I saw the reflection of years of battles and challenges he had faced, standing as a guardian of a world where peaceful coexistence between mutants and humans remained an elusive dream.

"Is everyone okay?" I asked Charles.

At that moment, as the smoke cleared, revealing the aftermath of the clash, I could see Susan and the other X-Men slowly gathering together, counting their ranks. Their faces showed fatigue, but in their eyes, I saw unwavering determination and relief that things hadn't turned out as badly as they could have. However, I had no information about the fate of others involved in the chaos.

"Everyone is fine," Charles replied softly but confidently. His smile, full of warmth and understanding, was like a balm for the soul.

At that moment, Logan's decisive and disgruntled voice echoed. He approached us, each step emphasizing his unyielding will and readiness to act at any moment. Half of his face was scarred, like a map of painful memories from the recent battle. His regeneration had already begun its work. I could see muscles knitting together, and new skin starting to appear in some places.

"I'd argue with that!" Logan declared.

"Your complaint is not accepted," I said with a smirk, watching his mutation at work.

—//—

Logan's recovery was truly a sight to behold. His face, only moments before bearing the marks of a fierce battle, now shone with health and strength, as if nothing had happened.

When the rest of the X-Men and Susan Storm joined us, the atmosphere seemed to buzz with new energy. Despite the trials of battle, Susan remained undeniably radiant. Her hair flowed lightly in the wind, and her smile, full of warmth and resilience, lit up everything around her.

My spontaneous kiss, full of emotion and relief at being reunited and knowing she was safe, became a moment of calm and love amid the chaos and destruction left by the battle.

"How did you like the school trip?" I asked playfully, though my concern was genuine. I searched her eyes for reflections of her experiences, eager to know how she had handled the ordeal.

"It seems every trip we take will be quite eventful, Reed," she replied confidently, with a hint of humor, promising more adventures to come.

Remembering our past dates and escapades, I couldn't help but smile back.

"I hope you'll stay for dinner?" Charles asked with a gentle smile.

I glanced at Susan, and she nodded sweetly.

"Why not," I replied.

—= Johnny Storm =—

Being part of the Fantastic Four gave Johnny Storm not only a heroic status but also certain privileges in social life. The ability to enter the most exclusive clubs in New York without question was one such privilege. This evening, bathed in shimmering lights and filled with the sounds of live music, Susan Storm's younger brother enjoyed the luxury and carefreeness offered by one of the city's most lavish clubs.

The club's atmosphere was electric: heavy bass notes shook the air, mingling with the laughter and voices of patrons, creating a continuous sense of celebration. Amid the flickering lights and shadows, Johnny, always confident and outgoing, found company in a girl named Crystal. Her presence added a special charm to the evening.

"So, where are you from?" he asked casually, inviting an interesting conversation.

Crystal, smiling mysteriously and clearly enjoying Johnny's interest, replied:

"From a very faraway place."

Her smile was dazzling, and her eyes held something deep and secretive that Johnny, with his experience in traveling between worlds and dimensions, couldn't miss. However, his first thought leaned towards Europe—a continent that seemed distant and exotic enough for such a meeting in New York. Her appearance had an incredibly captivating yet elusive European quality, from her elegant clothing to the slight accent Johnny detected in her voice.

This evening in the club became for Johnny not just another night spent in the whirl of social entertainment. The encounter with Crystal promised to be the beginning of something new and possibly magical, opening a door to a world he hadn't even suspected existed. In this space, where every moment was filled with music, laughter, and dancing, it seemed that anything was possible—even the most unexpected and wonderful encounters.

—= Some Time Later =—

In the soft light of the nightclub, playing across their faces in a multitude of hues, the moment of farewell between Johnny and Crystal seemed especially significant. The air was filled with the sense of unrevealed secrets and hopes for the future. Johnny, usually so sure of himself and his emotions, now felt a slight uncertainty. This meeting with Crystal was unlike any he had before. Her mystery and simultaneous openness to him sparked a wave of new emotions.

"So, until tomorrow?" his voice was gentle, as if afraid to break the fragile magic of the moment.

In Crystal's eyes, Johnny saw a reflection of his own interest and a certain mysterious depth that only fueled his desire to know her better.

He understood that this meeting was just the first step on the path to a possible new and exciting journey.

"Yes, until tomorrow," she replied, her voice like music, filled with promises and hopes. Rising on her toes, she leaned in, and their lips met in a light but enchanting kiss.

This moment left Johnny momentarily speechless. Everything around seemed to freeze, and in that brief pause, the world revolved only around them. The kiss was short, but it left a lasting echo, the sound of something incredibly touching and sincere. Warmth spread through his heart, a warmth he didn't often feel—a warmth that heralded the beginning of something new and exciting.

As they stepped back from each other, the invisible bridge of understanding and anticipation of future meetings remained between them. And though the night was still young, they both knew that the next day promised to open a new chapter in their relationship—a chapter they both eagerly awaited to explore.

Thus, under the sounds of the nightclub, with its flickering lights and dancing shadows, their story began. A story full of possibilities, mysteries, and undoubtedly new adventures that awaited them ahead.

—= Twenty minutes later =—

After the unforgettable meeting with Crystal, Johnny Storm decided to stroll through the streets of New York, letting the fresh evening air cool his excitement. The night city lived its own life; shop lights and neon signs created the illusion of an eternal day. The streets, teeming with people, held within them the stories of thousands of fates, each unique and unrepeatable.

"Hahahaha, old man, what are you doing?" came a cheerful but cruel young voice, sharply contrasting with the warm atmosphere of the evening.

"Dodge!" yelled a reply, full of fear and helplessness, from someone in trouble.

"Hit the bum!" the voices continued to provoke, and this was the last straw for Johnny.

His steps, guided by a sense of justice, quickened, and soon he reached the scene. Before him stood a group of young delinquents, surrounding a defenseless man and mocking him, unaware they were about to cross a dangerous line.

"Hey!" his voice cut through the air, attracting everyone's attention.

As the delinquents turned to see the source of the challenge, Johnny transformed. His figure, enveloped in flames, became a symbol of immediate and unavoidable retribution. The fire emanating from him was not dangerous to those around but served as a bright warning to those who dared disturb the peace of the night city.

Seeing before them not just a man but a living embodiment of the element, the delinquents instantly lost their fighting spirit. Their legs, not yet receiving commands from their brains, were already carrying them away from the scene, turning them into sprinters attempting to break world records.

"Th-thank you..." one of the men weakly said.

"You're welcome..." Johnny trailed off, recognizing one of the men.

Susan Storm's younger brother knew the face of one of these men from somewhere. The bearded, dark-haired man only raised an indifferent gaze at the blonde.