Before meeting the Bald Mafia Boss

Samael's morning was unusually energetic. The vivid memories of his brutal fight with Logan swirled in his mind, along with the conversation with Rogue, which left him with a sense of unease.

The clash with Logan, though it ended in a senseless finale, gave him much to ponder. His nearly indestructible skin performed excellently—when the power was active, even adamantium claws couldn't penetrate it. But Samael knew well that armor alone was not enough. The force of Logan's blows still inflicted internal injuries that he felt with every brutal strike. Each attack, although it didn't break the skin, shook him from the inside.

Regeneration repaired all damage in the blink of an eye, yet Samael realized that if someone with high intelligence meticulously figured out his powers, they could exploit them. Blows that inflicted internal injuries might not kill Samael—his regenerative ability was too powerful. Even one indestructible cell would be enough for him to be reborn.

However, an opponent could incapacitate him, even if just for a moment. And such a moment could cost him more than his life. He could lose the chance to save someone important to him. A secret organization, like Hydra, could gain time to activate explosives and destroy the city—and Samael would be helpless.

"I'll have to strengthen my muscles... damn... that's going to be painful."

Leaning against the railing of his residence's balcony, Samael exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke, grimacing at the very thought of developing new power. He knew that every change in his body came with pain—hellish pain. He vividly remembered how much suffering it had cost him to develop his previous abilities. And although he didn't want to go through that again, he knew he had to. Evolution was inevitable, and strengthening his capabilities was key to surviving in this dangerous world.

"Heh... Anna... a nice memory. She acted like a scared kitten."

For the first time in his life, he experienced such a reaction from a woman towards him, and although it was new, he definitely liked it. However, he wondered whether this interest was solely due to his new power, which made him immune to Rogue's touch, to the energy flowing from the X-gene. Was she sincere? Maybe. Maybe not.

But honestly, he didn't care. He created this power precisely to get closer to her. Her sexy body, gothic style, and that delicate, frightened nature—all of it drew him to Anna as a woman. She was a mix of strength and fragility that seemed magnetic to him.

Yes, his actions were selfish, but he didn't mind. He wasn't the type of virtuous hero who always did the right thing. On the contrary—his pragmatic approach compelled him to accept his unattractive appearance. He knew that his face, far from ideal, could deter many women. Even those he saved might not fall in love with him at first sight. But Anna... Anna was the exception, and he had no intention of losing that.

Samael, in a slightly elevated mood, headed to the bathroom to go through his daily ritual—something he had neglected in his previous life. However, now he valued these moments of routine that allowed him to gather his thoughts before the next challenges.

He spent the morning on a short patrol in his anti-hero costume. It wasn't a particularly productive outing—it ended merely with a brutal beating of a few petty thugs who crossed his path. Around noon, after a quick lunch, he made his way to the underground garage. As he slid behind the wheel of his Ford Mustang, he felt like the lord of his own world, even though this world didn't always play by his rules.

The engine roared to life, and Samael set course for Xavier's Institute. Another day, another clash with the reality he still had to learn.

From a distance, Xavier's Institute rose among the trees like an ancient fortress, surrounded by an aura of mystery and power. Samael gazed at the majestic building, its neo-Gothic style reminiscent of bygone eras. The spires, crowned with sharp pointed roofs, seemed to slice through the sky, and the numerous windows appeared to silently watch the surroundings. The walls, made of dark gray stone, were imposing but held a certain coziness, as if promising protection and safety to those brave enough to approach. Samael felt that this place served not only as a school but also as a fortress—a refuge for those whom the world had rejected, for those who did not fit in with the rest of humanity.

As he approached the large iron gate, he heard the faint hum of machinery. It began to open automatically, revealing a path leading directly to the Institute's courtyard. Samael slowed down as the wheels of his Mustang slowly rolled onto the gravel pathway, and a gust of wind rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, as if inviting him inside. The cameras, though discreet, tracked his every move, and the invisible technology guarding this place watched over every detail. This was more than just an ordinary school. Samael sensed that behind the walls lay not only education but also dangerous secrets.

As he passed through the gate, vivid evidence of the extraordinary nature of this place unfolded before his eyes. Groups of students could be seen on either side of the road, training their powers in controlled conditions. Some of them did this under the watchful eyes of mentors—the X-Men, who had once learned within these walls themselves. Samael glanced to the right, where Rahne Sinclair, known as Wolfsbane, was in her half-wolf form. Her muscular silhouette, covered in gray-brown fur, was almost animalistic, yet her gaze revealed warmth and concern. She was teaching a young girl who was clearly struggling with an excess of aggression linked to her own power—rage simmered in her eyes, and her hands trembled as if she wanted to destroy something. Wolfsbane, in a calm voice, was trying to soothe her student, teaching her how to control that force before it spiraled out of control.

A few meters away, Sam Guthrie, better known as Cannonball, was hovering a few feet above the ground, surrounded by a gentle, golden aura. He was demonstrating the art of flight and maneuvering in the air to a group of students. The kids watched him with fascination, trying to imitate him—some managed to lift a few inches off the ground while others crashed back to the earth with a thud, amused by their own failures. Cannonball, with his eternal smile, took the mistakes of his protégés in stride, calmly explaining to them that the skill of flying requires not only power but also patience.

Not everyone, however, was destined to be a future X-Man. Some of the students were just kids with powers who were beginning their journey and trying to come to terms with their extraordinary abilities. On the lawn, he noticed a boy with green sparks dancing on his fingertips, struggling to control the electrical discharges. The sparks leaped from his hands, and he, with visible concentration, was trying to create a stable pulse. Over his shoulder stood a mentor—an older mutant with slightly graying hair, who smiled warmly as the boy managed to unleash a small burst of energy for the first time. "Good job," Samael heard as he passed by them.

A bit further away, a girl with blue skin, perhaps with genes crossed with some marine creature, was manipulating the water from a nearby fountain. Small streams of water floated in the air, swirling around her in delicate spirals. Her friend, laughing loudly, was playing with her own power—creating delicate butterflies made of pure energy that danced above her head before dissipating into the air.

Samael watched all of this with a mix of fascination and slight envy. The Institute was alive, pulsing with youthful energy and uncertainty— for many of these kids, it was their first chance at normalcy, for their powers to be seen as something more than a curse.

As he approached the building, another scene caught his attention. A boy with unnaturally elongated limbs, looking like a character from a cartoon, was trying to learn to control his ability under Jubilee's watch—an instructor who herself had the power to generate explosive bursts of light. Her lively, cheerful teaching style eased the tension and gave the boy confidence. They erupted into laughter every time his unsuccessful attempts left his body entangled like shoelaces, but Jubilee didn't give up, offering friendly support.

Finally, Samael arrived at the courtyard in front of the main entrance to the Institute. He parked his Mustang and sat in silence for a moment, observing the enormous wooden doors leading into the building. This place was full of mysteries, brimming with potential—both good and bad. He silenced the engine, and after a brief stretch, looked at the entrance to the institute.

Wide marble stairs led to the Institute's entrance, gleaming in the rays of the midday sun. As Samael got out of the Mustang, he closed the car door with a soft click and made his way toward the main doors. Each step on the stairs echoed clearly in the air, as if underscoring the significance of his visit. He knew that sooner or later, he would have to face the members of the Institute, but he did not expect the first person he would see to be him.

At the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing, stood a blue-skinned mutant with a muscular build, dressed in a light lab coat. His powerful yet elegant hands were crossed over his chest, and his expression revealed a mix of curiosity and welcome. Hank McCoy, also known as Beast, greeted him with his characteristic gentle smile, which surprised Samael.

McCoy, though a mutant of immense strength, always carried himself with admirable grace, blending wildness with intellect. His fur shone in the sunlight, and his yellow eyes sparkled with intelligence. This was not the typical welcome one would expect from students or other members of the X-Men. Samael was convinced that someone from the younger generation would come to greet him, perhaps Kitty Pryde or even Jean Grey. But since it was barely lunchtime, Hank, who often worked on his projects in the lab, might have been the most available person at that moment.

Samael paused for a moment, analyzing the situation. His gaze settled on McCoy, who, despite his appearance resembling a wild creature, had the calm and composure of someone who had welcomed new guests to the Institute many times before.

"I didn't expect you to be the one to greet me," Samael said with a slight smile, trying to hide his surprise.

Beast raised an eyebrow and replied with his characteristic calm, "In this institution, you can never be sure who will surprise you. Especially at lunchtime. I often have the pleasure of welcoming newcomers when others are busy with training or meals."

Samael smiled slightly, though inside he felt that the situation was unfolding a bit differently than he had imagined. McCoy, although always respectful and serious about his tasks, seemed a bit too calm. Perhaps it was just his instinct warning him about this place. Here, everyone, from the kids to the mentors, had their secrets, and Hank McCoy was undoubtedly one of the sharpest minds he had ever encountered.

"Please, come inside," Beast said, gesturing for Samael to enter through the massive wooden doors of the Institute. "Professor Xavier is still busy, but I hope you'll have the chance to speak with him personally in the coming hours."

Samael nodded, though his mind was already working at full speed. Passing through those doors meant stepping into a territory that could be both a place for potential collaboration regarding training and a dangerous confrontation. For he still didn't know what kind of Professor X he was dealing with.

Hank moved ahead, inviting Samael to follow him deeper into the Institute. They crossed the massive oak doors, which concealed a spacious hall. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the elegant wooden panels on the walls gave the interior a sense of class and history. Samael noticed that this building did not resemble a typical training center. It felt more like an elegant home, housing students with extraordinary abilities but with an atmosphere reminiscent of a residence rather than a harsh educational facility.

Hank walked with a relaxed step, composed as always, though Samael sensed that the mutant was mindful of every detail of this encounter.

"The Institute is a place that gives young people the opportunity to find themselves," Hank began, his deep voice echoing through the corridor they were walking down. "We don't pressure students to stay here permanently. Of course, we offer a complete education within the Institute, but for those who master their abilities, there is always the option to continue their education in regular schools. It's important that they feel at home here. Not just as mut..."

"Metahumans," Samael interrupted, looking at Hank with a slight smile. "I prefer that term. 'Mutants' sounds too alien, as if we're separated from the rest of the world. Metahumans... it gives the impression that we are something more, but still part of the same humanity."

Hank raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the correction, but then nodded in approval. "You're right, metahumans sounds more... inclusive. What you're saying makes sense. However, not everyone here at the Institute thinks so openly. Still, we strive to allow our students to develop their talents in safe conditions, free from stigma."

They were passing through more hallways adorned with paintings and photographs of former X-Men members and their allies. The history of this place and the people who created it seemed almost tangible. From the nearby classrooms came sounds of lessons—laughter, conversations, sometimes even the sounds of explosions or sudden bursts of power.

"Each of our students has their own path to walk," Hank continued, stopping for a moment to open another door. "Not everyone is ready to understand their powers right away or to fully accept them. That's why we allow them gradual development, in accordance with their own pace. Those who want can participate in the programs we offer here, but if they feel the need, they can also learn at external schools to avoid feeling isolated from the rest of the world."

Samael nodded, although he didn't completely share this philosophy. He preferred a more uncompromising approach to power development; however, he knew that Xavier's Institute adhered to a more gentle and caring method. Not his style, but he had to admit that for many young people, it could be lifesaving.

They finally reached a small, cozy lounge. The guest room had soft, comfortable chairs and sofas, and a steaming teapot and a set of cups awaited them on the central table. Through the large panoramic windows, they could admire a vast garden, where groups of students were visible. In the distance, under the supervision of several mentors, a few young metahumans were practicing their powers—they created small explosions, manipulated objects in the air, and even changed the shapes of objects.

"As Logan's grandson," Hank suddenly spoke, breaking the silence, "you seem exceptionally... intelligent. Logan was never one to prioritize education." His tone was joking but with clear respect.

Samael raised an eyebrow, looking at him from under narrowed eyes. "Not all of us have the same priorities. Maybe that's why I need more brains to make up for both of us."

Beast chuckled softly and then nodded as if accepting the joke with clear approval. "I'm glad we have someone who can not only fight but think as well. Rest, have some tea. Professor Xavier will definitely contact you later."

"Thanks," Samael replied, sitting down in one of the chairs.

Hank nodded and slowly left the room, leaving Samael alone with a cup of hot tea.

Sitting comfortably on the leather sofa, Samael relaxed for a moment, allowing his thoughts to wander before focusing on what was to come. He looked around the elegantly furnished lounge, with dark oak furniture and classic accents that gave it an atmosphere of a quiet, peaceful meeting place.

He knew he would soon have to talk to Xavier, but this conversation did not cause him any anxiety. He had no intention of staying at the Institute—he had his own spacious and luxurious residence that provided him not only privacy but also complete freedom. The Institute was a place for those who needed protection and support, but Samael did not belong to that category. He was self-sufficient, and his financial resources made him independent from any institutions, even one as renowned as this.

He reached for his phone to check his account balance. As soon as the screen lit up and his finger swiped across it, his eyes widened in disbelief. There was over 35 billion dollars in the main account.

"What the...?" he muttered under his breath, almost involuntarily. It was an amount that literally left him speechless for a moment. He knew he had a lot of money, but he never expected such a sum. When he was establishing his new life in this world, he secured his finances and made it easier for himself to start, but now, seeing the specific numbers, he truly appreciated how well he had planned his first steps.

He opened the transaction history to understand where such a gigantic amount had come from. Most of the recent transactions were cash inflows to the account, primarily from various companies, and the purchases he had made recently were only minor expenses compared to what he had before his eyes now. Swiping his finger across the screen, Samael noticed familiar company names: Oscorp, Stark Industries, Baxter Corp, Fisk Enterprises. All of them regularly transferred money to his account. But what really caught his attention was the last unexpected transaction—Latveria Corp.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, unable to hide his surprise.

Latveria Corp? The company owned by Victor von Doom, one of the most dangerous and intelligent villains in this world? Moreover, the amount they transferred was one of the largest—greater even than those from Stark Industries. Samael felt something cold skitter down his spine.

Doctor Doom. Samael immediately realized the seriousness of the situation. Von Doom was not someone to be ignored. He was charismatic, incredibly intelligent, and possessed vast scientific and magical resources. Samael knew that if Doom ever changed his green cloak for white—a symbol of a new, more unpredictable, and ruthless incarnation—his chances of coming out of that confrontation alive would be slim.

Doom could be someone Samael would have to face sooner or later. After all, he held shares in his company, as well as in many other giants of this world. Samael was starting to understand that the business connections he had acquired in hopes of a smoother start in this dangerous world could lead to unforeseen circumstances. Not just Oscorp and Stark Industries—after all, those were companies whose operations were fairly predictable. But Latveria Corp? That was a whole different game. The company, primarily focused on cinematography and entertainment, was a leader in the field, but everyone knew that Doom wasn't just about making money. His ambitions reached far beyond that.

Samael sighed, setting his phone down on the table beside his teacup. He knew that sooner or later he would be forced to meet with the owners of these companies. He was now a shareholder, which meant he had rights but also obligations. Meetings, negotiations… All of this was beginning to take on a completely new dimension, and Doctor Doom seemed the most dangerous of potential adversaries.

Sitting in silence, Samael realized that despite his power—both physical and financial—the world around him was filled with rivals and enemies. Victor von Doom was just one among many. But at that moment, he seemed the most terrifying.

"Well, this is going to be interesting..." he whispered to himself, gazing at the steaming drink. He pondered what else awaited him when he would hear about Latveria Corp again.

Sitting on the sofa, Samael felt something gently disturb the silence of the living room—a barely audible sound of footsteps behind him. He turned his gaze toward the ornate wooden stairs, and what he saw took his breath away for a moment.

Descending from above was a stunning beauty, Ororo Munroe—known to everyone as Storm. Her long, white hair cascaded over her shoulders, its silvery sheen sparkling in the light. Ororo's skin was dark as ebony, contrasting perfectly with her alabaster hair. Her eyes, almost heavenly bright, stared ahead with unwavering confidence. She wore an elegant yet slightly combat-ready outfit that accentuated both her sensual silhouette and impressive stature. There was something majestic about her, something that suggested she could command not only storms but also the souls of those who dared to underestimate her.

For a moment, Samael couldn't take his eyes off her. "Well, now I understand why they call her queen..." he thought with a slight smile. Not only did she look incredible, but her step was full of grace and assurance, as if every movement was meticulously planned, and every moment belonged to her. Samael had never seen such beauty in reality—this was the kind of beauty that wasn't just external but radiated an inner strength.

"For someone who can control the weather, she is… really stunning," he thought, unable to hide his admiration. Though he had always believed that no woman could impress him too much, he had to admit that he was slightly dazzled by her presence.

Ororo reached the bottom and approached Samael with a subtle smile that made him feel, if only for a moment, as if the storm were distant and the world around had gained a bit more tranquility. Seeing her come closer, Samael rose from the sofa, trying to maintain a natural posture, though he felt a slight nervousness in her presence that he hadn't expected from himself.

"Hello," Ororo said in a soft yet firm voice that echoed through the room. "I'm Ororo Munroe. I'm here as a professor; I teach mathematics. If you'd like, you can drop by my class in an hour. The professor asked me to let you know he's waiting for you in his office. Please follow me, Mr…"

Her words were simple, but delivered with such calmness that Samael felt the tension accompanying his anticipation ease. He nodded, trying to hide his earlier astonishment at her appearance. Although he sensed that her demeanor was somewhat stiff, he thought he detected a kind of caution in her eyes, as if she was scrutinizing his every move.

"Samael," he replied, though deep down he was still trying to gather himself and focus on more serious matters.

Ororo gave him a brief, mysterious smile, then turned to lead him to Xavier's office.