As an illegal mutant who had long graced the Department of Mutant Affairs' most wanted list, Sabretooth maintained numerous hidden residences—safe houses scattered strategically across the United States.
To evade detection, he and Clarice relocated periodically, never lingering too long in any single city. Though inconvenient, this nomadic lifestyle had successfully kept them off the Department's radar until recently.
"There's hardly any food left in the refrigerator," Clarice announced, emerging from the kitchen. "I should go to the supermarket and restock our supplies."
The moment she finished speaking, Sabretooth's expression darkened. "The Department of Mutant Affairs now knows you're my adopted daughter. Your identity as a mutant has been exposed. It's far too dangerous for you to venture out alone."
After delivering this warning, he shot Richard a resentful glare.
During their first encounter with Inessa and her team at the restaurant, Sabretooth had assumed they were targeting him. It later became apparent that Inessa's group had been pursuing Richard, not him and Clarice.
Simply put, had it not been for Richard's presence, they would never have drawn the Department's attention, much less been captured. Although Richard had ultimately rescued them, Sabretooth considered him the root cause of their predicament.
Richard dismissed Sabretooth's accusatory stare, though he concurred that allowing Clarice to shop unaccompanied posed unnecessary risks.
"I'll accompany you," he offered.
Both Sabretooth and Clarice frowned simultaneously at his suggestion.
"Is there a problem?" Richard asked, puzzled by their reaction.
"Haven't you been following the news lately?" Sabretooth countered.
"No," Richard admitted with a shake of his head.
"You're a wanted fugitive—Class A warrant!" Sabretooth exclaimed, activating the living room television and navigating to a news channel.
There, unmistakably displayed across the screen, was Richard's Class A wanted bulletin.
As he observed his image scrolling across the broadcast, Richard's brow furrowed slightly.
Seriously? For eliminating just three of your mutant agents?
Although the actual body count attributed to him had risen to fifteen, the Class A warrant had clearly been issued prior to his confrontation with Aiden's group.
Having fully assimilated his original body's memories, Richard understood that the U.S. mutant classification system organized wanted fugitives into five descending categories: S, A, B, C, and D.
He also knew that Magneto remained the sole individual designated with an S-class warrant.
After his internal complaint, he turned to Sabretooth. "You must be wanted as well. What classification have they assigned you?"
"Class B," Sabretooth replied, his expression betraying his dissatisfaction.
While higher classification levels invariably triggered more aggressive pursuit from the Department, among mutants opposing the Registration Act, these warrants functioned almost like badges of honor.
Some renegade mutants deliberately executed high-profile, devastating attacks specifically to elevate their wanted status—targeting Department offices, ambushing agents, striking government facilities, or orchestrating operations in densely populated urban centers.
Though such tactics might seem juvenile and inevitably provoked severe retaliation, they served as essential stepping stones for mutants seeking fame.
Those lacking sufficient power but craving fame sometimes fantasized about assaulting the White House or Pentagon.
Hearing Sabretooth's response, Richard maintained his composure. "It's merely a Class A warrant—hardly cause for alarm. If the Department's warrants were truly effective, they'd have apprehended all wanted mutants long ago."
With that dismissal, he extracted a baseball cap and sunglasses from his system space.
Under Sabretooth and Clarice's watchful eyes, he donned both items.
No one notices a man in sunglasses!
"There," he declared. "This should make me sufficiently unrecognizable."
You can't be serious...
Sabretooth and Clarice simultaneously rolled their eyes.
Noting their skepticism, Richard elaborated calmly: "Most ordinary people operate on a simple principle—'Not my problem, not my concern.' I acknowledge this disguise is rudimentary, but I have confidence in its effectiveness."
"Besides, my hair length differs significantly from what's shown on the wanted bulletin."
"Although both are silver, people typically remember only that the fugitive has short silver hair." He indicated his own silver locks, which now cascaded almost to his shoulders.
Following his explanation, Sabretooth and Clarice realized with surprise that his hair had indeed grown considerably longer since they'd last seen him three days ago.
"Is this a side effect of your mutant abilities?" Clarice inquired softly.
"Sure," Richard confirmed with a nod.
With the exception of Alpha and Omega mutants, mutants of lower classifications typically exhibited physical characteristics distinguishing them from ordinary humans.
This was especially true for Epsilon-level mutants, who often possessed monstrous appearances.
Though not an Epsilon-class mutant herself, Clarice displayed unmistakable mutant traits—her magenta hair and vibrant green eyes serving as genetic markers of her mutation.
Without them, she would have resembled a typical young woman with lustrous black hair and deep brown eyes.
"Enough deliberation," Richard concluded. "Clarice and I will visit the supermarket together."
He approached Clarice, signaling for her to create a portal for their departure.
With a nod, she raised her right hand, projecting a sphere of purple spatial energy that expanded into a gateway leading to an alley near the supermarket.
Despite her relatively brief residence in Los Angeles, she had thoroughly familiarized herself with the neighborhood surrounding their apartment.
As Clarice prepared to step through the portal, Richard produced another baseball cap and pair of sunglasses from his system space, offering them to her.
Accepting them without protest, she donned both items before passing through the gateway.
The spatial door Clarice had created materialized within walking distance of the supermarket.
Emerging from the portal, they quickly reached their destination and began gathering supplies.
Just as Richard had predicted, his simple disguise proved remarkably effective—neither customers nor staff connected him to the wanted bulletin circulating through national media.
More surprisingly, while navigating the aisles with Clarice, several women sporting shorts and midriff-baring tops approached him, initiating conversation.
Despite their enthusiastic attention and undeniable physical appeal—their curvaceous figures notably more pronounced than Clarice's slender form—Richard politely declined their invitations.
Women only affect the speed at which I draw my sword!
He harbored minimal romantic interest even in Clarice, whose features more closely aligned with his aesthetic preferences, let alone these forward normies women.
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