Chapter 174: An Unleisured Retirement Life

France, Paris, Second Arrondissement, Rue de la Paix. This street, with its antique charm, is nonetheless one of the world's most fashionable shopping districts.

The street fully displays the Frenchman's laid-back and leisurely nature; trash is swept to the side, and stylish, beautiful women walk the road. But if you walk closer and sniff, you can smell the strong scent of perfume masking a faint stench.

If anyone were asked, regardless of gender, they would say this stench comes from the trash on the ground. No one would admit it is their own smell.

Such contrasting scenes exist in the same setting; this is the romantic and free atmosphere unique to the French. Whoever comes will be deeply impressed.

Right at a roadside café, two old men, both in their prime yet actually living a semi-retired life, are playing chess.

Such a leisurely scene is not uncommon in this fashion capital, and naturally, no one would disturb them... under normal circumstances.

Today, a burly man wearing a black coat in the scorching heat sat down heavily on a seat next to the two chess-playing old men.

He was a white man with dark brown hair and gray temples. His angular face revealed sharpness and experience; anyone could see at a glance that this man was not to be trifled with.

But the most conspicuous feature was that he covered his left eye with an eyepatch. Just like a pirate who roamed the seas over a hundred years ago.

Regarding such an uninvited guest, the two old men playing chess were not welcoming. But neither drove him away; they let the waiter attend to him and serve a cup of black coffee.

"You should try the café au lait here; at least it's not that bad," said the bald old man sitting in a wheelchair.

The one-eyed burly man said, "It doesn't matter; it's not the protagonist anyway."

The other old man, with short hair, a thin face, and an air of having weathered many storms, said, "So, are you here to arrest me? I didn't know France was under your jurisdiction either."

"The Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate is subordinate to the UN Security Council; we have jurisdiction worldwide."

"Oh, then please produce the arrest warrant, read it out, and then handcuff me. However, I make no guarantees about what might happen." The old man with hair grinned, his smile chilling. With his refined pleasure of meeting an old friend for chess disrupted, he truly didn't mind making a scene.

The one-eyed burly man did not take the bait. He stepped back and said, "I'm just here to ask questions, not to arrest anyone. At least you wouldn't think I'd come alone to arrest you, would you?"

"No comment." "Ask away." Two people, two answers. The two friends glanced at each other and added, "Anyway, I won't say." "I don't necessarily have the answer."

One spoke hard words hard, the other spoke hard words softly; the result looked the same. But the one-eyed burly man had anticipated this and asked without concern, "Where is Jean Grey?"

"I don't know," the bald man in the wheelchair replied bluntly.

"You've even renamed that school the Jean Grey Academy for Gifted Youngsters to commemorate him. You wouldn't be trying to tell me you've abandoned him and have no connection anymore, would you?"

The bald man in the wheelchair said, "Changing the name was a decision made by the current headmistress, Raven, and others. I'm retired; I don't deal with those things. Besides, even if I cared about him, what would be the point of finding him? Turn him over to the government for trial?"

"If the White House still wants to command the X-Men, let them restore the hotline and contact the people at the base. Coming to me will achieve nothing."

The one-eyed burly man said, "You know that's not how we think."

"Come on, Nick Fury. Is it necessary to say things against your conscience in front of me? I don't even need to read minds to know you're just talking nonsense. Yes, you can choose not to lie to me, promise me something. But you can't represent your entire organization, can you?"

"I do not allow hidden threats," Nick Fury stated his unshakable principle.

"I want a pardon. A pardon signed by the President, with formal legal effect, agreeing to let the matter of Jean go unpunished," Professor Charles Xavier made his demand.

"When the White House agreed to you, it was in exchange for an alien warship. You didn't deliver."

Charles said dissatisfiedly, "On the battlefield, the wreckage of those alien flying machines was recovered by the US military; the X-Men kept none. But why would you think we could keep an alien warship without support?"

"Where did the US military go? Couldn't wait even a few dozen minutes for a single fighter jet's support? Go back and ask those soldiers who were there at the time; see if a group of infantrymen had any way to seize a warship. We are just a group of mutants, not gods!"

"In any case, without a pardon, I would rather Jean hide and protect himself well. If you want to keep him under your watch, you and I both know the Mutant Control Center is a cage; what about the X-Men?"

"At least I can choose what kind of life he leads, rather than being locked in a lab as a white mouse or wasting his life in prison."

Actually, if he used the resources at his disposal, Nick Fury could find Jean Grey. But the point was how to take the other party down?

Having Charles Xavier, who was like a father to her, come out and persuade her was the simplest method.

If force were used... as a mutant capable of shouldering a space warship, Nick Fury couldn't think of any way to subdue her. Even mobilizing the Howling Commandos might not be useful.

But negotiations are always like this. First, offer a price no one can accept; but after indicating one's own willingness to compromise, the second condition becomes easier to accept. So Nick Fury said, "Then the other person, that clown. Who is he? Where is he?"

Magneto, Erik Lehnsherr, who had remained silent, finally spoke up. He said with disgust, "That guy is just a madman. Like a grenade with the pin pulled and the safety lever popped."

"You know it will explode, so the only thing to do is throw the grenade as far away as possible before it blows up and kills you. Believe me, you absolutely do not want to keep that grenade in your hand."

"Of course, I wouldn't mind that grenade exploding in that Strategic Logistics hellhole; I'd even welcome it. But you wouldn't think we care about that guy's whereabouts, would you? Go look in the mental hospitals; they're full of them."

Nick Fury took out a photo, placed it on the table, and asked, "Is the clown this person?"

The person in the photo was a Hollywood genius actor, the youngest Best Actor at Venice, River Phoenix. Regarding the head of such an intelligence organization producing such a photo, Charles asked in confusion, "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"This is the result obtained by my analysis team, based on limited surveillance footage, ignoring the face paint and reconstructing the clown's appearance from the contours. Is it him?"

No one had thought this Kryptonian could adjust his appearance by controlling his facial muscles. So the reconstructed face was just someone else's face. However, Professor X had seen his original appearance, so he didn't think the face under the makeup was actually a different face.

For some reason, Professor X still decided to keep that young man's secret. Partly because the X-Men had no obligation to share intelligence with the US government, let alone this time when they fought Magneto, it was the US military that provided great assistance.

Moreover, when the US government gets involved, it often pushes a good person to the extreme. So he shook his head and said, "I don't know. Please verify it yourself."

Nick Fury pressed, "Then why would he help you?"

"Maybe he's just a passing righteous avenger," Charles deflected.

And Erik chimed in beside him, "Heh. If you ask me, no one can predict the behavior of a mental patient, can they?"

(End of Chapter)