The famous Las Vegas. It was famous for its huge selection of clubs, casinos, and nightlife. I wish your trip to the entertainment city wasn't for work. But that's your fate.

It was profitable for the CIA brass to send you and your colleague on another stakeout, because the other volunteers were, shall we say, more inept. And, being an agent, engaged in search of Sebastian Shaw and the Hell Tribe Club, your fate was to look at the escort chicks in bikinis and fancy boas, who passed to the main entrance of one of the clubs on the block. And on what length of stilettos they were moving!

And all was fine if you didn't have to sit in the passenger seat of a car. Occasionally having a word with your superiors who were expecting your results. Patience isn't your strong suit, so... you had to play the part of one of them. And to say you regretted it is an understatement. In a nutshell, you sneaked into the office, caught the general's kidnapping, and then you realized you needed the help of a genetic mutation specialist.

Charles Xavier. A young professor at Oxford who unknowingly took a fancy to you. And by pure coincidence, you wandered into a student bar where a guy drank it all down on a bet. As the others' voices pressed on your brain, you tried to focus on him. Without knowing it, you made a decisive move, approaching the bar. The professor was surprisingly sober as a glass and spotted you almost immediately, giving all of his attention to you as you moved farther away from everyone.

"Congratulations, Professor." - You muttered, looking at the long empty glass in his hands.

"Thank you very much... it's hotter than it looks, actually."

"No," you stretched out. - "On your presentation."

"Oh, you were at my presentation? How nice of you, thank you very much." - and then you immediately introduced yourselves to each other.

His silly compliments about a made-up mutation in your hair didn't bother you. Certainly he understood that. And while you were explaining to him why you were here, Xavier moved gently closer, his fingertips around the axis of your head, reading your mind. I wondered if he'd be willing to help.