After saying goodbye to Charles, Ryden was so frightened he almost wet himself.
Could things just calm down for a moment?
First came the signs of a world war.
Then Howard.
Then Madame Hydra, Hydra itself, Gotham City's Wayne Enterprises-
And now Professor X.
My goodness. How am I supposed to live like this?
Everyone in this world was terrifyingly powerful.
It felt like he was the only normal person left.
He sighed deeply.
I need to upgrade my equipment as soon as possible.
This world is way too chaotic.
If I'm not careful, I'll run into a powerhouse.
I really can't afford to mess with them.
Absolutely can't.
Wait.
Charles's mother... Mrs. Sharon?
What am I thinking?
Right-at this point in time...
I wonder if Raven has appeared yet.
Not the "Blade of the Exile" Raven.
Mystique from the X-Men.
Just imagining that skin made his mood lift a little.
Ryden wiped the corner of his mouth, straightened his clothes, and headed toward the lab.
There were still plenty of experiments waiting for him that afternoon.
It had to be said-scientists were genuinely poor.
Just like a certain author.
No, that wasn't quite right.
Poverty wasn't a condition.
It was a constant.
Every experiment burned money.
Materials cost money.
Failures cost even more.
Behind every successful invention were tens of millions-sometimes hundreds of millions-spent.
Not everyone could live like Ryden, relying on patent fees while supporting a whole group of "wives."
Well. Close enough.
Back in the lab, Ms. Jennifer was still there, gracefully reading the newspaper.
A cup of steaming black tea sat quietly on the table.
Her posture was elegant as ever.
Elegant enough to make the mind wander.
More importantly, Ms. Jennifer didn't have a husband.
Rumor said she'd divorced years ago. No children either.
A textbook DINK.
Free. Relaxed. Comfortable.
After taking Ryden in as a student, her life had only gotten better.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Metal rang under the hammer.
The sharp scent of solder filled the air.
Ryden focused completely on modifying his personal equipment.
The things he gave away were acceptable.
The things he used himself were always the best.
No helping it.
A selfish bastard always kept the finest things for himself.
Strongest wine.
Best gear.
You know how it goes.
Capacitors. Protective devices. Shock absorbers.
One component after another.
With his prior experience on magnetic amplification devices, the process went smoothly.
At this rate, he might actually build a real flying car one day.
Not one of Howard's theoretical toys that looked good but didn't work.
After a long day, he went home.
Eat. Shower. Sleep.
Routine.
Out of habit, he spent the night in Aunt Laura's room.
He was already used to it.
And since she didn't object, he saw no reason to change.
Aunt Sarah always looked at him with a strange smile but never said anything.
As if she'd already accepted this... arrangement.
Lex and Lena were much more energetic now that they were eating properly.
They were being looked after by the kind Aunt Lilliana.
Children from poor families matured early.
They helped with chores-washing dishes, taking out the trash.
Shirley got along well with the siblings, acting like an older sister.
After some time, she had slowly moved past Uncle Brad's death.
As for Aunt Laura-
She was living very comfortably.
Ryden took good care of her, both mentally and physically.
Her only concern was whether she'd end up like Sarah, with a growing belly.
That would complicate things.
After all, they'd known each other since childhood.
Ryden felt no pressure at all.
If it happened, it happened.
Why worry about everything? Was he even a man if he did?
If there was a child, then have one.
He was actually curious.
If he had a child with Wonder Woman someday... or with someone from Asgard...
Would that child be a superhuman?
The thought was oddly exciting.
Alright. Enough daydreaming.
Work came first.
Ryden was preparing to get his diploma.
After that, he'd push straight for a PhD.
In this era, doctorates meant something.
They weren't mass-produced like they would be later.
Especially not from a place like MIT.
He experimented daily, recording everything on camera.
After a failure, he reviewed the footage.
Looking from a third-person angle always revealed mistakes he'd missed.
He occasionally chatted with Charles.
That guy was a true genius.
How much of a genius?
Anyone who'd seen the movies knew.
Despite that, Charles was a genuine nice guy.
Easy to get along with.
Having someone he could talk to freely, Charles naturally bonded with Ryden.
It turned out Charles was studying at Oxford.
Already a Harvard graduate.
A complete genius.
He hadn't published any major papers yet, so his reputation hadn't spread.
In this era, fame required noise.
Charles was home on break, visiting his parents.
Normally, he lived in an apartment in Boston.
His family owned large tracts of land and farms in New York, living comfortably off rent.
A textbook rich kid.
"Ryden, want to come to my place?" Charles said one day, unusually excited.
"There's a friend I want to introduce you to."
Ryden was interested.
A genius's friend was rarely ordinary.
Meeting them wouldn't hurt.
"Sure," Ryden replied. "Let's take my car."
Charles didn't think twice.
He got in, fastened his seatbelt, and started giving directions.
Ryden smiled.
A mischievous one.
"Charles," he said, "brace yourself. Don't be too shocked."
"The great Dr. Ryden is about to take you on a low-altitude flight."
He stepped on the gas.
Smooth shift.
Switch flipped.
Zoom.
The car shot forward like a rocket.
After the modifications, it could hit 150 kilometers per hour.
Today, that was normal.
In 1938?
Terrifying.
The car tore down the road, dust flying, scattering a flock of grazing sheep.
Half an hour later, they arrived.
Charles couldn't take it anymore.
He shoved the door open and collapsed by the roadside, vomiting violently.
He looked less like someone carsick-
More like someone brutally hungover.
Ryden whistled as he locked the car.
"Haha, I warned you, Charles," he said lightly.
"Man, you're a big guy and you still get carsick."
Charles glared at him, gasping.
"I'm not carsick," he wheezed.
"I get airsick."
He stared at the car in disbelief.
"Is that even a car? You're insane."
Ryden shrugged.
Alright.
He'd just taken it for a spin.
It really wasn't that exaggerated.
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