1962
Thunk.
The whiskey glass landed heavily on the bar counter.
"Damn... this stuff tastes awful! Like bitter almonds," Marcus frowned, staring down at the amber liquid. No matter how many times he tried it, he could never develop a taste for the stuff.
"That's because you don't know how to appreciate it! This is quality whiskey!" Logan grinned at Marcus's disgusted expression while continuing to puff on his cigar.
"Yeah, only guys like you enjoy drinking this poison," Marcus shrugged. He and Logan had known each other for three years now. When Marcus first arrived in this world three years ago, Logan had saved his life.
Since then, they'd traveled the globe together, watching comrades fall on countless battlefields like war-torn dogs. Fortunately, both of them possessed extraordinary abilities far beyond normal humans, allowing them to survive the brutal conflicts unscathed.
Two young men approached their table. The more muscular one introduced himself first:
"Excuse me, my name is Eric Lehnsher."
"And I'm Charles Xavier," added the scholarly-looking companion.
Logan showed no interest in their introductions, assuming they were just troublemakers looking for a fight. He took a long drag from his freshly lit cigar and growled, "Get the fuck out of here!"
After hearing Logan's hostile response, the two men began to turn away.
"Wait!" Marcus called after them, then glanced at Logan. "Let them talk. I think they're... interesting."
Marcus's cryptic comment piqued Logan's curiosity. He understood exactly what Marcus meant by "interesting."
"Do you have business with us, or are you looking for a fight?" Logan turned to face the pair. Although he didn't recognize them, if Marcus found them interesting, it meant these guys were likely special—just like them.
Marcus leaned against the bar, studying the two young men with an amused smile. He'd noticed something unusual about them when they first approached, and after hearing their introductions, he immediately realized who they were.
"Tell me, what do you want from us?"
Looking at Marcus's knowing smile, Charles's expression grew serious.
"Eric, I... I can't sense him!"
Charles seemed genuinely shocked. The man was clearly standing right in front of him, yet Charles couldn't detect him with his psychic abilities. It was as if Marcus didn't exist at all.
Eric, standing nearby, was equally startled by Charles's admission. He knew how powerful Charles's abilities were—his powers had led them to this very location. But now, Charles couldn't sense Marcus, which seemed impossible.
"Sounds like you have something important to discuss. Let's move somewhere quieter," Marcus suggested, pointing to a secluded corner of the tavern. He and Logan led the two men to a table away from prying ears.
As soon as they sat down, Eric declared, "We need help, and you might be exactly who we're looking for."
As he spoke, he focused on the metal pendant hanging from Marcus's neck, causing it to slowly rise into the air.
Watching his pendant float, Marcus raised an eyebrow and casually pressed it back down with his finger. "Nice trick, but this isn't the place for parlor games."
With that simple gesture, Marcus somehow severed the magnetic force controlling the pendant.
When Eric realized he could no longer manipulate Marcus's pendant, he finally understood Charles's confusion. Their powers were rendered practically useless around this stranger.
"Now, let's talk business," Marcus said coolly. "Our services don't come cheap."
Despite knowing exactly who these two men were, Marcus wasn't about to help them for free. It would take more than a few words to secure their assistance.
Seeing that Marcus and Logan were primarily motivated by money, Charles and Eric exchanged glances. If money was their only concern, that simplified matters—the CIA would be willing to pay handsomely.
"So how much would it cost to hire you?" Charles asked.
"That depends on what you need us to do," Marcus replied. "Bodyguard work starts at $50,000. Combat missions are $100,000. Fighting against others with special abilities... well, that depends on who we're up against."
The rates weren't cheap, but if Marcus and Logan could deliver as promised, money would be no object.
"Alright, $500,000 each," Charles offered. "We're going up against a powerful individual with abilities like ours. He's planning something that threatens the entire world."
Half a million dollars?
This wasn't the future where people threw around millions for nothing. In 1962, half a million was an enormous sum. Marcus and Logan exchanged meaningful glances before accepting the offer.
"Here's to a successful partnership," Marcus smiled, shaking hands with the two men. The price tag of half a million dollars had definitely caught his attention.
With their agreement settled, everyone stood to leave. Marcus and Logan needed to gather their equipment, while Charles and Eric had to track their next target.
After saying their goodbyes, Charles watched Marcus's retreating figure with an intense expression.
"I still can't read him. It's like he doesn't even register in my mind."
"His ability is unique," Eric replied thoughtfully. "It might prove invaluable against Shaw."
Eric's impression of Marcus was no less intrigued than Charles's. He had clearly felt Marcus sever his control over the pendant. The man's ability to nullify mutant powers made him a potential trump card against many of their kind.
Furthermore, as a battle-hardened mercenary, Marcus likely had the combat experience needed to face Shaw.
Meanwhile, Marcus and Logan were already preparing for the mission, checking their weapons and gear, ready for battle at a moment's notice.
Not long after, Charles returned with a woman in tow.
She carried herself with authority. Though initially confused by Marcus and Logan's military attire, she maintained her composure and introduced herself.
"Gentlemen, I'm Moira MacTaggert. According to Charles, you'll be temporary CIA assets for this operation."
"Hello, Ms. MacTaggert. I'm Marcus, and this is Logan. We're hired guns, nothing more—we have no interest in becoming part of the CIA."
Moira nodded slightly at Marcus's clarification. She didn't care about their motivation as long as they could help. Besides, they certainly looked more capable than the recruits they'd gathered so far.
Logan stood nearby, eyeing Moira appreciatively with his cigar clenched between his teeth. She was clearly his type.
"Hey, Logan, eyes front," Marcus elbowed him. "CIA agents aren't exactly the easiest people to deal with."
Logan snapped out of his trance, took a deep drag on his cigar, slipped on his sunglasses, and climbed into Moira's car. Though he found her attractive, he knew better than to mess with CIA personnel.