The plane landed at San Francisco International Airport.
Hang found a place to stay for a few days, waiting for the cooldown to end.
Seven days later.
His ntal power spread out like an invisible tide, silently sweeping across every corner of the city with him at its center. Closing his eyes, he sifted through millions of chaotic life signatures, precisely searching for that unique energy frequency. In less than five minutes, his eyes snapped open, a faint smile forming at the corner of his lips.
Target locked.
Downtown—a nightclub called "Midnight Paradise." The energy there was faint but distinct, like an insect that had concealed all its presence, lying dormant.
A taxi stopped beneath the flickering neon sign. Hang stepped inside. A suffocating stench of cheap perfu, tobacco tar, and fernted alcohol hit him head-on. He frowned slightly, ignored the bald bartender wiping the counter with a filthy rag, and walked straight toward the door leading backstage.
"Hey! Buddy, backstage is off-limits!" the bald man shouted roughly.
Hang acted as if he hadn't heard and pushed open the creaking door. A dim corridor stretched ahead, faint sounds of running water echoing from the end. He followed the sound and knocked on the last door.
"Who is it?" A wary female voice ca from inside, slightly hoarse.
"I'm looking for Angel Salvadore."
The sound of running water stopped abruptly. After a few seconds of silence, the door opened a crack. A young, guarded face peeked out—dark skin, erald-green eyes, like a startled animal.
"Who are you?"
"Charles Xavier sent ."
At the na, Angel stiffened visibly. She studied Hang carefully, suspicion practically overflowing from her gaze. "The Professor?"
"He wants to take you to his school," Hang said concisely. "It's safer for you there."
"I don't need it." Angel let out a cold, disdainful laugh, tinged with bitterness. "I'm doing just fine here."
She tried to shut the door, but it stopped as if it had hit an invisible wall. Hang's hand held it firmly in place. Her expression darkened. "Move."
Hang released it, letting the door slam shut. He didn't leave—just leaned casually against the opposite wall, as if waiting for a play he knew would unfold.
Sure enough, less than three minutes later, the door opened again. Angel had changed into a black tank top and ripped jeans. Two unnatural bulges were visible beneath her shoulder blades.
"Fine. What ssage did the Professor send?" she asked coldly, arms crossed.
"The Hellfire Club is looking for you."
Her expression changed instantly. "How do you know about the Hellfire Club?"
"I t so of their mbers in Las Vegas yesterday," Hang said calmly. "The White Queen and the Red Devil."
"W-where are they now?" A trace of unease crept into her voice.
"I sent them ho."
Angel stared at him. Shock turned into scrutiny—then she suddenly laughed, half incredulous. "You? Sent them ho? How? You a mutant too?"
"No."
"Not a mutant, and you can deal with the White Queen?" Her face clearly said I don't believe you.
At that mont, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor entrance. The bald bartender returned with four muscular n, blocking the exit with malicious grins.
"Kid, I warned you," the bald man cracked his knuckles. "Now co have a proper talk with ."
Hang glanced at Angel. Your boss?
"…Sothing like that," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"Angel," the bald man licked his lips, eyes greedy as they swept over her back, "you owe three months' rent. Pay up today—or use those pretty wings of yours. I know so rich clients who'd love a show."
Angel stepped back instinctively. Her tank top tore as a pair of translucent, dragonfly-like wings burst out, shimring under the dim lights. "Touch and see what happens!" she snapped, though her voice lacked confidence.
"Grab her!" the bald man ordered impatiently.
The four n lunged forward.
Hang didn't even move. He simply glanced at them.
In an instant, an invisible wave of ntal force surged out like a tsunami. The four n froze mid-motion, as if soone had hit pause. Their eyes went blank, like puppets with their strings cut.
"Leave," Hang said softly.
They turned chanically and walked out stiffly.
The bartender's eyes bulged. "W-what did you do to them?!"
"Angel doesn't owe you anything," Hang said as he approached, his ntal power slipping into the man's brain like a probe. "From today on, you forget she exists. You forget her wings. You forget any debt. Understood?"
"…Understood," the man replied blankly.
"Get lost."
He staggered away.
Angel slowly retracted her wings, her torn top hanging loosely. She stared at Hang, her eyes filled with awe, fear—and a trace of wavering.
"What… are you?"
"Just passing by." Hang extended his hand. "Co with . The Hellfire Club could arrive any mont."
"Why should I trust you?" she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Hang pulled out Jean Grey's notebook and opened it. Inside was a handwritten ssage from Charles Xavier.
Angel took it, running her fingers over the familiar signature, flipping through pages filled with detailed notes on psychic control. "This is Jean's handwriting… I've seen it before."
"You know her?"
"She was with the Professor when he ca to find three years ago." Angel handed it back, expression conflicted. "I don't want to go to that school. I hate cages."
"Freedom?" Hang turned to her, a hint of mockery in his tone. "That bald guy just tried to sell your wings to the highest bidder. That's your freedom?"
She bit her lip, unable to respond.
At that mont—
BOOM!
A violent explosion erupted from the main hall. A shockwave sent glass shards and smoke rushing into the corridor.
Hang's ntal scan instantly picked up three figures in the smoke:
Azazel (Red Devil), Riptide, and Havok.
"Damn it!" Angel's face turned pale. "It's them! We can't win!"
"You can't," Hang said, shaking off her grip as he walked into the hall.
"So it's you again." Azazel's red eyes narrowed. "Seems the White Queen was too rciful. Today, you pay for your arrogance."
Riptide raised his hand, gathering spilled alcohol into a roaring water dragon that surged toward Hang. Hang stood still. An invisible barrier ford—boom!—the attack shattered into droplets.
Havok slamd his hands down, sending a shockwave rippling across the ground. Hang flicked his hand, suspending debris midair before sending it flying back.
In that instant, Azazel teleported behind him, tail stabbing toward his neck.
Hang didn't turn. An invisible hand of ntal force seized the tail, flooding Azazel's mind. He scread and collapsed, convulsing.
"Tell Sebastian Shaw—Angel is mine now."
Before the words finished—
BOOM!
The ceiling exploded. A man in a white suit and helt descended calmly.
Black King — Sebastian Shaw.
Hang's ntal scan hit a wall. Shaw's body was like a black hole, devouring energy—and his helt blocked all psychic intrusion.
"Interesting," Shaw said, adjusting his collar. "My n have fallen to you two days in a row."
"Join us," he smiled. "The Hellfire Club can offer you power, wealth, status."
"I'm not interested," Hang replied. "I just want to grow stronger."
"Then you should join us."
"You can't teach ."
Shaw's smile faded. "Arrogance has a price."
He threw a punch.
Hang's barrier ford instantly—but the mont it made contact, his energy was absorbed. The barrier collapsed.
[Ding! Detected S-rank ability: Energy Absorption and Conversion. Copy?]
Copy.
Hang dodged as the punch smashed through the wall behind him.
"Any energy only makes stronger!" Shaw laughed.
He attacked relentlessly. Hang kept dodging—he knew using energy now would only charge Shaw.
Then Shaw stopped, placing his hand on the wall.
Electricity surged through the building, flooding into him. Blue arcs crackled around his body.
"Then try this!"
A massive bolt of lightning engulfed Hang.
This ti, he didn't dodge.
He raised his hand.
The lightning—enough to lt steel—beca docile, circling him before fading into a spark.
"Thanks," Hang grinned. "Nice warm-up."
Shaw froze.
"Now… my turn."
Hang stopped holding back. He raised his hand—
The ground beneath Shaw turned to liquid.
Shaw sank instantly. "What—?!"
"Solidify."
The ground hardened tenfold, trapping him.
This wasn't energy—it was matter manipulation. Shaw couldn't absorb it.
"You—!" Shaw's eyes flashed with shock.
Hang gathered kinetic energy and punched the ground instead.
BOOM!
The floor collapsed. Shaw vanished into the rubble.
Hang didn't pursue. Shaw was Magneto's prey.
He returned to Angel, grabbing her arm. "Let's go."
"W-where?" she stamred.
"Ireland. Then Russia," Hang said calmly. "Next target."
"Target?"
"A mutant with sonic abilities."
Angel fell silent, then looked at him—and the ruined battlefield behind.
The school was a cage. So was this place.
But Hang… represented sothing else.
Not safety.
Possibility.
"I hate cages," she said finally, fire igniting in her green eyes. "I'm coming with you."
"Smart choice."
They disappeared into the night.
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