The side gate of Xavier Manor opened quietly.
A black car rolled out slowly, turned onto a narrow road, and soon merged into the main highway. Within moments it blended into the steady flow of traffic, completely unremarkable.
Inside the vehicle, Rorschach sat in the passenger seat while Raven—still disguised as a middle-aged man—drove with practiced ease.
"Raven," Rorschach asked casually, glancing toward her, "where exactly are we going?"
"To find someone," she replied while smoothly turning the steering wheel.
Her tone sounded relaxed, almost confident.
"As long as he's willing to help, we'll be able to find Shaw."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
From the way she spoke, the person Raven intended to meet seemed quite influential.
But Shaw's own background was extremely complicated.
The Hellfire Club wasn't merely a mutant organization. It included many powerful and influential humans as well—figures with significant positions in politics, business, and society.
Even Howard Stark had once received an invitation to join the Hellfire Club.
Without that kind of network, Shaw could never have manipulated events on a global scale, much less influence something as dangerous as the Cuban Missile Crisis.
Someone capable of discovering the CIA's secret mutant base was clearly no ordinary opponent.
Because of that, Rorschach remained skeptical.
"Raven," he said, "who exactly are we meeting? Is he reliable?"
"It's fine," she replied, braking briefly before correcting herself. "He's one of us."
Then she added something more specific.
"He can sense mutants."
Rorschach paused.
A name immediately surfaced in his mind.
"You mean Caliban?"
Raven glanced sideways in surprise.
"You know him?"
"Not personally," Rorschach said with a small shrug. "I've just heard about him."
Inside, however, he had already confirmed his guess.
Caliban possessed the ability to sense other mutants. If he decided to help, locating Shaw—or determining whether Shaw had discovered their hideout—would be extremely easy.
"Is he that famous?" Raven muttered with mild curiosity.
She didn't dwell on it. After all, Rorschach was also a mutant. Hearing rumors about others in the community wasn't strange.
"Raven," Rorschach continued, "if you know Caliban, Charles should know him too, right?"
"So why didn't Charles ever mention him while recruiting mutants?"
The question genuinely puzzled him.
Knowing Charles's personality, it seemed unlikely that he would simply ignore another mutant nearby.
"That's exactly why," Raven replied calmly.
"Charles knows Caliban very well. And that's why he knows Caliban would never join us."
She shrugged slightly.
"That guy trusts no one. All he cares about is money, and he's extremely suspicious of everyone."
"You'll understand once you meet him."
Rorschach didn't ask anything further.
He vaguely remembered Caliban appearing briefly in future events. His sensing ability also had limitations—around twenty-five miles, if memory served.
Not particularly significant.
After driving through several intersections, Raven eventually pulled the car over outside a bar.
The neon lights flickered above the entrance.
As they stepped out of the vehicle and walked toward the door, Raven began speaking again.
"When I was younger—before I met Charles—I survived by using my powers to impersonate people and steal things."
"I stole money, food, clothes… anything I could."
She laughed softly.
"Even then, I still went hungry most days. Sometimes I had to sleep in the sewers."
"One night I ran into Caliban down there. He was sleeping in the sewers too."
She paused briefly.
"And even then… he didn't trust me."
"That's rough," Rorschach said sincerely.
He wasn't sure whether he felt worse for Raven or Caliban.
"So when we meet him," Raven added, "let me handle the conversation. Alright?"
"No problem," Rorschach replied immediately.
He had no intention of interfering anyway.
His goal for this trip was simple.
See if anything happened.
Maybe trigger another mission.
Nothing more.
The two walked into the bar together.
Inside, the atmosphere was lively. Small groups of people sat at tables drinking and chatting loudly.
Music played softly in the background.
Rorschach and Raven walked straight to the bar counter.
Behind it stood a bartender in his early thirties who looked sharp and professional.
"What can I get you?" the man asked with a friendly smile.
"Where's Henry?" Raven asked immediately, frowning slightly.
The bartender in front of her wasn't the one she remembered.
"Oh, you must be a regular," the young man said quickly.
"Henry is my uncle. He's sick, so I'm covering his shift for a few days."
"Is he alright?" Raven asked.
"I hope so," the bartender sighed dramatically. "Poor guy threw out his back. He says it's nothing serious, but you know how it is when people get older."
"Poor Henry," Raven said sympathetically. "May God bless him."
After a brief exchange of polite conversation, she leaned slightly closer.
"Is he here?"
The bartender blinked.
"Who?"
Before Raven could answer—
"Let them in."
A deep voice came from a doorway leading to the back room.
A large man stepped out briefly before disappearing again.
It was clear that Caliban had already realized who had arrived.
Raven nodded subtly and gestured toward the back.
She and Rorschach headed toward the doorway without hesitation.
The bartender didn't stop them.
"Another whiskey."
At the counter, a man who had been quietly drinking lifted his empty glass toward the bartender.
Rorschach glanced at him absentmindedly while passing by.
Then he stopped.
Because he immediately recognized the man.
It was none other than Howard Stark.
.....
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