I wasn't stupid enough to walk straight into the X‑Mansion myself. Even with all my upgrades, abilities, and anomalous protections, Charles Xavier is one of the most dangerous mental beings in any universe. A man who can peel apart minds like pages in a book is not someone I give free access to my real thoughts. So I activated one of the more useful anomalous skills I'd acquired: Consciousness Duplication.
My real mind stayed securely in Site 999.A perfect copy of my consciousness—loaded with only what I allowed it to know—was transferred into a disposable D‑Class body. It looked like me? No. Spoke like me? Sometimes. But it thought only what I permitted. If Xavier tried to probe, all he would see was a controlled version of me, curated to avoid revealing anything meaningful.
If he killed the copy, well… there were infinite more D‑Classes.
I sent the D‑Class proxy through the portal to the parallel New York where the X‑Men still held strong. They hadn't fallen like the others. They were stubborn—idealistic—and annoyingly persistent. The Brotherhood had gone underground, Magneto moving like a ghost, but the X‑Men were still operating openly, defending civilians and rallying mutants.
Xavier's school looked untouched, at least from the outside: tall, clean, hopeful. A monument to his dream. Inside, I imagined tension so thick you could slice it. Mutants on edge. Danger Room sessions likely running around the clock. Cerebro in constant use. It was a fortress disguised as a peaceful institution.
My proxy walked up the long path toward the front entrance as the security systems locked on to him. I felt every movement through our connection—faint, muted, like I was watching a puppet I controlled through a screen.
Then, as expected, the first X‑Man arrived.
Cyclops, visor glowing, posture tight, ready to vaporize the intruder.
"Identify yourself," he snapped.
"My name is irrelevant," my proxy said calmly. "I'm here on behalf of someone with the authority to negotiate. I wish to speak to Professor Xavier about mutant rights… and your survival."
That got his attention.
From deeper inside the mansion, I felt a psychic ripple.He was listening.Xavier had already dipped into my proxy's surface thoughts.
Good.That part was planned.
My proxy continued walking, lifted his hands slowly, and waited.
A moment later the front doors opened and Charles Xavier rolled out—calm, composed, suspicious but curious. The world's most powerful telepath, wearing a polite smile.
"I sense you're not what you appear," Xavier said. "Your consciousness does not align with your body."
"Correct," my proxy answered. "I'm a messenger. My real self prefers negotiations without the risk of a psychic lobotomy."
Xavier's smile twitched.
"You came to talk," he said. "So talk. Why should I even consider cooperating with the Foundation after what you've done to this world?"
My proxy leaned forward slightly.
"Because we control every government. Every military. Every economic system. And because I'm the only one offering you a future where mutants aren't hunted like animals."
That made Xavier pause.
"We can change how the humans treat you," the proxy continued. "But in return, Xavier… I want your help. Your expertise. And your cooperation."
Telepathic energy tightened around the proxy's mind—Xavier was probing deeper.
He found only what I wanted him to find: carefully arranged truths, a few half‑truths, and absolutely nothing about Site 999, my real body, or the larger multiversal agenda.
He didn't notice the trap.
"Very well," Xavier finally said. "I'll listen. But if you're lying… I will know."
My proxy smiled.
"That's why I'm here. So you can read my mind without killing anything important."
Inside Site 999, I leaned back in my chair with a smirk.
Negotiation had begun.
And the Brotherhood would be dealt with much… less diplomatically.