As The Only Mutant in Marvel

In a luxurious villa, Lance, wearing a black mask, materialized in the dimly lit hallway. Alarms blared instantly. "Not bad. Nice security system." Lance smirked, mildly impressed. Footsteps echoed toward him, fast and urgent. Flash. In the blink of an eye, Lance vanished.

Elsewhere in the house, Scorch, a billionaire playboy, was lounging with his mistress, oblivious to the chaos unfolding. Two bodyguards burst into the room and hustled him toward the safe room. But before they could reach it—Flash. Lance appeared at the end of the corridor, waving casually. "Hey there." The guards responded with a hail of bullets. Flash. Lance disappeared again, reappearing behind them. Bang! Bang! Two quick shots. The bodyguards dropped, blood pooling beneath them.

The mistress screamed—"Too loud." Lance sighed and silenced her with a single shot. Now it was just him and Scorch. "Who… who are you?" Despite the situation, Scorch tried to keep his cool. "Relax. I'll leave my business card." Lance smiled. Before Scorch could respond, Lance pulled the trigger. Bang! A bullet pierced the man's forehead. Scorch collapsed, eyes wide with regret.

Lance tossed a business card onto the body. Then, before leaving, he stopped by the security room to wipe the surveillance footage. "Better safe than sorry." A few more guards died before Lance pocketed the hard drive and teleported out. Splash! The hard drive hit the ocean, sinking out of sight. Lance disappeared again.

Seven minutes later, Lance stepped out of the bathroom at the bar. He'd just killed five billionaires—Harry's targets—in seven minutes. One minute per target. And no one even noticed he was gone. Too easy. Teleportation was a cheat code.

Back at the table, Lance's friends were still drinking and laughing. None of them had the slightest clue what he'd just done. Lance joined them, grinning as he picked up his drink. The night went on—dancing, drinking, and flirting—until well past 1 AM.

Meanwhile, at the five crime scenes, police sirens wailed as officers flooded the area. Liberty City's police force wasn't known for quick responses. But when billionaires were involved? They moved like their lives depended on it. Each site was packed with dozens of officers, combing for clues.

"What do we have?" A sheriff inspected the evidence—a few bullet casings and a business card. It was black, with a bloody scythe on the front and a white skull on the back. "What the hell is this?" An older officer sighed. "The Reaper's calling card."

"The Reaper?" The sheriff frowned. "Who's that? Some terrorist group?" "No. A killer." The older cop's voice was grim.

"You're telling me one guy pulled this off? Five murders, all at once? What is he—some kind of magician?" "Or maybe he's not working alone." The veteran officer shrugged.

The sheriff wasn't satisfied. "I want answers! Track down the hit order, the bounty—everything! I want results before you talk to me again!" The older cop walked off, shaking his head. No one wanted to deal with the sheriff's temper.

Moments later, black SUVs rolled up outside the crime scene. Men in black suits stepped out, flashing FBI badges as they marched past the barricades. "FBI. We're in charge now." The lead agent gave orders, leaving the sheriff fuming. "Damn Feds." He threw his cigarette down and stormed off.

But these weren't real FBI agents. They were S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. While the police gathered bullet casings, S.H.I.E.L.D. brought in high-tech scanners and equipment. Their focus? Detecting signs of Inhuman activity.

"Sir, no traces of Inhumans so far." A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent reported over the phone. "Keep monitoring the scene," the voice replied. "If it's not Inhumans, hand it off to the FBI. But rule them out first."

Boxes marked with eagle logos were hauled inside the villas. S.H.I.E.L.D. was searching for energy signatures—something only Inhumans left behind when using their powers.

What they didn't realize? Lance wasn't an Inhuman. He was a Mutant. And Mutants didn't leave the same traces.

Lance had no idea he was already on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. But even if they found traces of his powers, their scanners weren't built to detect Mutants. In fact, if Lance told them the truth, they'd probably think he was just a misclassified Inhuman. Mutants didn't exist—at least, not in this world.

But they do now. And Lance wasn't about to let anyone find out.

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