Ryuuto had come to the X-Men headquarters to do something simple:
Find stronger enemies to punch.
Charles briefed him calmly, rows of screens scanning for hostile signatures. But halfway through the intel rundown, one camera feed flickered—showing a face Ryuuto knew way too well.
He froze. His expression twisted into a crooked smile.
"Captain, you're leaving already?" Bobby asked, scratching his head. "You don't wanna keep investigating?"
"Heh… I'm going to go say hi to an old friend. Hold down the fort for me. I'll buy you dinner later."
"Uh—sure?"
A blink later, Ryuuto blurred into motion, blasting out of the room like a streak of red lightning.
He stopped only when he reached a nondescript cleaning lady pushing a cart down the hall. Ryuuto eyed her up and down without shame.
"Sir, excuse me, please let me—"
"Heh. Mystique. Cute disguise. But you still smell the same."
Ryuuto tapped his nose. His Sharingan flickered to life, its glow swallowing the mundane image like ink.
The woman sighed.
Her skin flushed blue.
Her bones reshaped.
Mystique stood in her true form, arms folded, orange eyes calm.
"Oh? Didn't expect you to admit it so fast." Ryuuto smirked. "What's wrong? Missed me?"
"You're still as irritating as ever," she muttered, eyes softening for half a second before turning cold again.
Then her tone dropped.
"I'm not here to fight. I came to warn you: stop targeting the Brotherhood. Magneto has already moved."
The air shifted—heavy, crushing. For a moment, the hallway felt like a battlefield waiting to bloom.
Ryuuto didn't blink.
"Magneto's always had a personal grudge with me."
His grin sharpened.
"And I only deal with enemies one way—by finishing them. Tell your boss that."
A shuriken spun between his fingers, its edges humming.
Mystique's jaw tightened.
"I knew you'd say that. You two are destined to collide… I just hope the ending isn't too tragic."
She stepped back once… twice… and dissolved into the shadows, leaving only the faint scent of metal and regrets.
Ryuuto lowered his weapon.
"What a waste. Wrong side, wrong leader… wrong ending."
He turned to leave—
[Host. New mission available. Accept?]
He nearly tripped.
He exhaled sharply.
"Shion, you don't need to ask every time. Of course I'm accepting. Now tell me—who am I beating up?"
[The target: Mutant Bob. Reminder: this one isn't simple.]
"Now that sounds fun."
He cracked his knuckles.
"And the rewards?"
[Complete the mission → guaranteed reward. Higher system level → better prizes. Also, possible mega jackpot.]
"Say less. Anyone who shows up gets folded."
He pinged Bob's last location through the system, then shot into the sky with a thunderous boom.
Meanwhile…
In a dusty old phone booth that no one used anymore, a blue-skinned man—Mutant Bob—adjusted his sunglasses and picked up the receiver.
He dialed.
Beep—beep—beep—
Before he even touched the last number, the phone shrieked to life.
A distorted voice hissed through the speaker:
"Don't ask anything. Someone is coming for you. If you want to live, run. Now."
Bob blinked.
"What? Who the hell are you supposed to be? At least tell me your name before you—"
But the voice vanished, cut off mid-threat.
Bob scowled.
"You jokers think I have time for prank calls?"
He slammed the phone down hard enough to crack the plastic.
He didn't know it yet…
But the Crimson Shadow of the X-Men's nightmares was already closing in.