It took Richard only a few minutes to read the entire report. A smile crossed his face as he shook his head.
The article came from a prominent television network. During prime time the previous night, the network had hosted a live broadcast featuring several experts discussing how his existence and actions had influenced the younger generation of mutants.
Shortly after the program concluded, this report had appeared online, summarizing the experts' opinions. Through this, he had been bestowed with the eye-catching new label: "The New Leader of Mutants."
From a media perspective, the network had chosen "New Mutant Leader" as the headline primarily to capture attention and spark curiosity, thereby increasing the report's click-through rate.
Although the "new mutant leader" designation seemed somewhat exaggerated, it wasn't entirely baseless clickbait. The experts who participated in the program had expressed remarkably similar viewpoints.
Today's mutant community was primarily divided into two factions.
One faction comprised the doves, represented by Professor X and the X-Men, who advocated peaceful coexistence with the U.S. government and ordinary citizens.
The other consisted of the hawks, represented by Magneto and the Brotherhood of Mutants, who advocated using force to secure equal rights.
Between these poles existed fence-sitters who oscillated between positions, as well as mutants with no strong opinions. But generally speaking, the vast majority of mutants aligned themselves with either the doves or the hawks.
Now, however, an entirely new faction had emerged within the mutant community—the liberal group represented by Richard, who neither accepted the Mutant Restriction Act and Department of Mutant Affairs oversight, nor attacked other U.S. government agencies like the Brotherhood of Mutants. They instead advocated the principle: "I will not offend others unless they offend me."
Most significantly, the majority of mutants who supported him were young people of his own generation.
While Richard had been aware that a new liberal contingent within the mutant community had begun emulating his approach and advocating his philosophy, he had never considered himself their leader. He had never aspired to become a mutant figurehead, nor had he intended to leverage his abilities to advance mutant causes.
Mutants were undeniably facing unfair treatment, but from a certain perspective, this stemmed partly from their own reluctance to resist. If mutants united and employed force like Magneto to protect their legitimate rights, neither the Mutant Restriction Act nor the Department of Mutant Affairs would have materialized.
Fairness must be achieved with fists! Those unwilling to resist shouldn't expect universal moral standards.
Though Richard was technically a mutant, his transmigrator status left him without strong allegiance to either the mutant community or this world. For him, crossing into this reality resembled playing an immersive game—one without save points, reload options, or admin.
Whether it was Wolverine, Sabretooth, the mutant agents from the Department, or others who had perished by his hand, they all evoked the same feeling as NPCs in a video game. This mindset explained why he had experienced no moral discomfort about killing from his very first day in this world.
Although he consciously recognized this wasn't a game and those he killed weren't data-constructed NPCs but living humans, changing this mentality within such a short timeframe proved challenging. In his estimation, he would need to inhabit this world for several years before gradually shifting this perspective.
After browsing the internet, Richard stored the laptop in his system space, then gathered his utensils and plates and carried them to the kitchen for washing.
Returning to the table, he extracted $1,000 from his system space, placed it on the table, and secured it beneath a cup. The money served as accommodation compensation for the cabin's owner.
Occupying someone's cabin without permission already bordered on impolite. Departing after a multi-day stay without leaving something in return would be unreasonable—inappropriate, at minimum, by his standards.
While cooking earlier, he had noticed his food supplies in the system space had dwindled, sufficient for only another day or two. Having occupied this location for five or six days, he planned to depart today, venture into downtown San Francisco to purchase necessities, then relocate to another city.
After leaving payment for his stay, he returned to the kitchen and collected the garbage bag containing kitchen waste.
The next second, he activated Teleportation and vanished.
Downtown San Francisco.
Teleportation proved considerably more versatile than Blinkstep.
In mere moments, Richard transported himself from the remote cabin to San Francisco's downtown core, dozens of kilometers away.
Though he had never visited San Francisco before, this posed no obstacle for someone with Teleportation. Unlike Blinkstep, Teleportation required mentally designating the desired destination beforehand. Once the target location was locked, familiarity with the destination—whether from previous visits or mental impressions—didn't influence Teleportation's effectiveness.
Simply put, provided the destination fell within Teleportation's maximum range, he could select any location at will.
Standing on a downtown rooftop's edge, Richard surveyed his surroundings, seeking the nearest large supermarket. Without much effort, he spotted a branch of a major chain.
Upon locating the supermarket, he didn't immediately teleport there. Instead, he first transported himself to a nearby alley, disposed of his garbage bag in a trash receptacle, then teleported directly inside the supermarket.
Telepathy!
Immediately upon materializing inside, he employed Telepathy to mentally freeze everyone in the establishment.
The supermarket—previously buzzing with activity and conversation—abruptly quieted. Apart from the overhead music, televisions in the electronics section, and various operational equipment, an eerie silence descended over the entire space.
Customers browsing merchandise, cashiers at registers, security personnel monitoring cameras—all remained suspended in their previous positions, resembling exquisite wax figures.
Having immobilized everyone, Richard unhurriedly began his shopping. This wasn't his first time employing this tactic, and he harbored no concerns about the Department of Mutant Affairs detecting him. After completing his purchases, he would depart San Francisco for another city. Even if the Department discovered his presence at this supermarket, tracking his subsequent whereabouts would prove impossible.
Time passed steadily.
After using Teleportation to collect necessities from different departments, he pushed his cart to a checkout counter. Though "zero-dollar shopping" had gained popularity across America, Richard had no intention of participating in such practices.
"Never overlook a good deed just because it seems small and never excuse a wrong just because it seems minor."
Taking the barcode scanner from the frozen cashier, he began processing his items himself.
Each time he conducted this checkout ritual; he couldn't help but internally complain about American retail infrastructure. Major U.S. supermarket chains possessed the capability to implement self-checkout systems, yet even large chain establishments continued employing "primitive" manual scanning processes.
After scanning all items in his cart, he checked the total displayed on-screen, withdrew the corresponding amount from his system space, and placed both cash and receipt on the counter before the immobilized cashier.
Then he transferred all purchased items into his system space.
Teleportation!
Having completed his shopping, Richard vanished instantly.
The next moment, everyone previously frozen by Telepathy resumed their normal states.
"What is this?" the cashier murmured, baffled by the appearance of cash and a receipt on her counter.
On a rooftop near the supermarket, Richard sat at the edge, extracting a bag of potato chips and a bottle of chilled soda from his system space. As he munched on chips, he contemplated his next destination.
Though three months had passed since arriving in this world, he remained in California, having simply relocated away from Los Angeles.
How about Las Vegas?
Las Vegas, located in neighboring Nevada, wasn't far from San Francisco. With Teleportation, he could reach it with minimal effort.
During periods of boredom, he had tested Teleportation's maximum range—200 kilometers. If he recalled correctly, San Francisco lay approximately 900 kilometers from Las Vegas, meaning he could reach the gambling capital with five jumps at most, assuming he didn't lose his bearings.
As he considered visiting the "Entertainment Capital of the World" to experience its unique culture, sirens wailed in the distance.
Police sirens represented a ubiquitous feature of American urban life, regardless of the city. Initially, Richard paid little attention to them.
However, when several police vehicles converged at an intersection to surround a group of protesting mutants, his interest piqued. Though unfamiliar with the demonstrators, the signs and banners they displayed caught his attention:
"Freedom is not a crime!"
"Oppose the Mutant Restriction Bill!"
"Mutants should have the freedom to use their powers legally!"
"Stand against the Department of Mutant Affairs' excessive use of power!"
"Richard Wesley should not be wanted!"
...
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