Adapting in Marvel

In front of the Morgan Bank building in Manhattan, New York, a figure descended from the sky, carrying two large snakeskin bags.

It was Brian.

After eliminating Darick Gallhager, the invisible man, Brian had taken all the luxury goods Darick had accumulated over the years through his invisibility abilities. These items now filled the two snakeskin bags slung over Brian's shoulders.

After spending three leisurely days in Siberia, Brian decided it was time to return to New York. However, instead of heading directly back to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, he made a detour to Morgan Bank in Manhattan.

Brian's objective was simple: exchange the luxury goods in his bags for cash.

Walking confidently into the bank's main hall with the conspicuous snakeskin bags, Brian drew immediate attention. The hall, bustling moments before with customers handling their transactions, fell silent.

The sight of the two large bags was simply too conspicuous. Some customers couldn't help but wonder if Brian had acquired the items in less-than-honest ways.

"Sir, welcome to Morgan Bank. How may we assist you today?" one of the staff members greeted him professionally.

Ignoring the murmurs and suspicious glances from the other customers, Brian strode purposefully to the bank counter.

Unlike the gawking customers, the staff of Morgan Bank maintained a composed and professional demeanor as they addressed him.

A young woman in professional OL attire greeted Brian with a polite smile.

"Sir, how can I assist you today?"

"Convert these into cash," Brian replied, tossing the snakeskin bags onto the counter.

With a wave of his hand, the bags opened, spilling out their contents: gold and silver jewelry, luxury watches, rare cigars, and other high-end items.

The woman, whose name tag read Katie, gasped audibly as she took in the sight of the extravagant goods. Her expression quickly shifted to one of suspicion.

It was clear to Katie that these items likely came from an improper source. She couldn't shake the thought that Brian might have acquired them through robbery—or worse.

"Sir, I'm unable to make a decision on this matter," Katie said, maintaining her professional demeanor despite her unease. "I'll need to consult with our manager."

A minute later, a middle-aged, bald man in a suit approached the counter. His name tag identified him as Harold.

"Sir, are all these items yours?" Harold asked, his eyes gleaming as he surveyed the luxurious goods. Though his face soon shifted into a stern and businesslike expression, Brian easily saw through the act.

It was clear that Harold was interested in the goods for himself.

Brian smirked slightly, amused by Harold's transparent greed.

"Manager Harold, is it? I think we should discuss this in a more private setting," Brian said calmly.

Hearing this, Harold's eyes lit up with excitement. He was quick to interpret Brian's suggestion as an opportunity to manipulate the situation in his favor.

Harold had seen many similar cases at Morgan Bank—people coming in with valuable goods of dubious origin, hoping to exchange them for cash. In every case, Harold used his position and underhanded tactics to confiscate the items for himself.

To Harold, Brian appeared to be yet another easy mark.

Over the years, Harold had made a fortune by exploiting situations like this, preying on individuals with questionable goods and using underhanded tactics to confiscate their valuables.

It was this history of "black eating black" that made Harold confident he could easily manipulate this Asian man.

"Alright, sir, please follow me," Harold said, leading Brian into a private trading room.

Once inside, Harold dropped his professional facade entirely. His tone turned blunt and threatening.

"Listen here, sir. I suspect these items were stolen from our Morgan Bank. Be smart and leave them here now. Otherwise, I happen to be an old friend of NYPD Chief John. With one word from my mouth, I can have you locked up—and enjoying the fine art of picking up soap."

Harold smirked arrogantly.

Brian, however, simply smiled.

"One word from your mouth? What mouth?" Brian asked playfully.

Before Harold could respond, something strange happened. The smirk froze on Harold's face, and his mouth snapped shut with alarming force. The impact was so strong that all of his teeth shattered.

Mmmph! Mmmph!

Harold whimpered, his hands flying to his mouth in terror. He tried desperately to open it, but no matter how much force he applied, it was as if his lips had been glued shut.

Panic set in as Harold realized he couldn't speak, let alone call anyone for help. His arrogance melted into sheer fear.

Brian watched Harold's desperate attempts with a satisfied smirk. Seeing the once-confident man reduced to this state was an entertaining sight after all.

Brian casually raised his finger, and Harold's large frame was suddenly hurled into the ceiling with a loud thud before crashing heavily to the floor.

"Harold, do you know what to do now?" Brian asked calmly, pointing with a gesture.

Harold's body slid across the floor, completely out of his control, until he was at Brian's feet. Without hesitation, Brian raised his foot and pressed it firmly against Harold's head.

Terrified, Harold froze, his mouth making muffled sounds as he tried to speak, but his sealed lips prevented him from saying a word.

Under Brian's intense gaze, Harold nodded frantically, his head bobbing like a chicken pecking at grains of rice.

Satisfied, Brian released his psychokinesis.

Harold scrambled to his feet in a frantic mix of crawling and rolling. He wasted no time—his fear silenced any thoughts of defiance. Within ten minutes, Harold had painstakingly evaluated every item Brian had brought.

"Sir, the total value of your items is 170 million dollars," Harold stammered nervously. "I've decided to increase it to 200 million dollars for you."

He handed a Morgan Bank gold card to Brian, his hands trembling. To ensure Brian's satisfaction—and more importantly, to save his own life—Harold had embezzled an additional 30 million dollars from Morgan Bank and transferred it onto the card.

It wasn't his own money, so Harold didn't feel any personal loss. For him, 30 million dollars—or even 300 million—was a small price to pay if it meant keeping his life.

"You're surprisingly sensible," Brian said with a smirk, taking the gold card. Without sparing Harold another glance, he left Morgan Bank.

Half an hour after Brian had departed, Harold collapsed onto the floor, trembling from the ordeal.

"Fuck... what just happened? Did I just make a deal with a black magician?" he muttered, venting his frustration and fear under his breath.

However, just as Harold began to curse under his breath, a wave of dizziness washed over him. His vision blurred, and he doubled over, vomiting uncontrollably.

"Wh-what's happening to me?" Harold gasped, clutching his head as a sharp pain tore through his skull. His entire body felt weak and unsteady, his mind wracked with confusion.

"Harold," a calm yet chilling voice echoed in his ears, "this is just a small punishment. If you dare curse me ten more times, I promise you'll turn into a pool of flesh in an instant."

It was Brian's voice.

Harold froze, his body trembling as terror took hold of him.

That man… I think I just witnessed the Devil who came to the human world for a vacation!! Harold thought, his fear mounting. He's cursed me!

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Harold's nausea, the vomiting, and the splitting headache were, to him, undeniable proof of a devilish curse.

Ashamed and terrified, Harold swore off cursing Brian entirely. He didn't even dare to speak about the incident to anyone, afraid that doing so might somehow reawaken the "curse" and reduce him to a lifeless pile of flesh.

"Mr. Devil, from now on, I am your most loyal dog," Harold muttered to himself, his fear mingling with an odd sense of servitude.

As his mind spiraled, a strange thought crossed Harold's mind. Perhaps being the loyal servant of that devil isn't so bad. If I serve him well, maybe he'll reward me—with endless wealth and immortality.

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