***I'll be busy tomorrow, so here's the next chapter.***
Fiore Artino was born in the narrow alleys of Lisbon to an Italian mother and a Portuguese father—both gone before she could spell their names. It was a basic story; her parents died when she was young. Lived on the streets at a young age until she was 15 years old, when she got into an accident and gained superpowers. She'd been abused by others, overworked, undervalued all her life. Gaining power had made her fierce, but she was still a nobody. Going through life, she fell in with one bad crowd after another until eventually joining a shadow organization called Blackwatch, where she polished her skills and became an assassin. Eventually, the organization fell, and she struck out on her own.
Ethan read the research file over and over again. Looking at it, he figured that his angle couldn't be domination—it had to be rooted in empathy. Money couldn't reach someone like her. Only respect could—a rarer currency. He'd also have to win her through things like intellect, kindness, and compassion.
He let that simmer and turned his thoughts to Emma.
With Emma Frost, everything was different. She'd smell his manipulation from the first word. No alias, no staged meeting would survive her mental probes. He could keep her from seeing anything really important, but if she truly focused on ripping out his secrets, even he would be powerless against the onslaught. That was how he was able to withstand her last time because she saw him as a normal kid. He'd need to outmaneuver her by not engaging with her directly—at least not at first. Instead, he'd plant an idea.
He began writing the plan he thought of to get Emma to join him. At the heart of everything Emma Frost does is the simple desire for mutants to live and survive. Of course, she wants power, but that's not all; she wishes to use that power to help her people.
To that end, Ethan's plan to colonize Mars for mutants would win her over. Mars, of course, was an inhospitable planet, and eventually, when the X-Men and the Brotherhood of Mutants realized that neither of their ways would work and that a middle road between the ideologies of Magneto and Professor X was needed. Eventually, they would come together to terraform the planet and create a new home for mutants.
Having knowledge of the comic, Ethan knew how they did it, but he could help Emma achieve the result earlier, thus saving many mutant lives.
He added a new purchase order to his list: a short-range psychic disruptor. Illegal, unstable, and traceable if mishandled. But necessary. Just in case things with Emma went south.
It was a simple plan, but it would require many mutants for many walks of life to achieve.
First, Magneto would be responsible for metallic seeding and core enhancement. He will redirect iron-rich asteroids and metallic meteorites to impact Mars safely, enriching the crust with trace elements essential for life, such as iron, nickel, magnesium, and cobalt. He will also manipulate the planet's core rotation, aiding in the generation of a magnetic field.
Next, Vulcan would be responsible for reigniting Mars' dormant core to produce geothermal activity and maintain the new magnetic field. This would also provide internal heating necessary to maintain tectonic movement and prevent atmospheric stripping from solar wind.
What followed would require multiple mutants working together. Storm would use her powers to fill the atmosphere with air and begin regulating the weather. Iceman would then generate massive glaciers and regulate planetary heat balance. Then he would create ice caps to simulate Earth's hydrological cycles and seed aquifers. Magma would then finally terraform the crust for stability, shape continents, and generate geothermal heating to help support long-term climate viability.
After that, Silo would alter the molecular structure of Martian crust, turning it into nutrient-rich soil. This would also balance the pH, mineral content, and porosity to support microbial life and plant roots.
Then, Saar, one of the most interesting mutants, whose powers were containing an entire ecosystem within his own body. Saar would create a proto-life ecosystem like extremophile bacteria or engineered microflora. This would kickstart the evolutionary chain reaction needed to develop full biospheres over time.
Lastly, another team of mutants would finish off the process. Krakoa, the sentient island, would populate the surface with breathable, oxygen-generating flora once transferred. Elixir would help Krakoa regulate microfauna, restore failing ecosystems, and ensure the biological adaptation of lifeforms introduced to Mars. Tempus would create time-accelerated bubbles—useful for fast-growing ecosystems or accelerating environmental adjustments. Blink would be responsible for bringing the initial team to Mars to terraform and eventually for the immigration of mutants.
Across the room, a server fan kicked on. Ethan barely noticed. He was running on mental overclock now, planning five moves ahead while automating resource allocation. Orders were already being processed—industrial-grade polymer meshes for Felicia's gloves, a new exosuit frame for field testing, and two reinforced containers built to hold exotic materials. He also added thing he would need himself.
He paused only briefly to retrieve a protein bar from his backpack. No time for real food. His metabolism didn't complain.
A notification pinged.
Print Shop HQ – Phase 1 Renovation Complete. Site Ready for Initial Walkthrough.
He nodded, mentally adding a walkthrough to tomorrow's itinerary.
Library in the afternoon to study advanced optics and electromagnetic materials for Felicia's requests. Dark web transactions tonight to begin shipping parts to a dead-drop warehouse in Jersey. Print shop walkthrough in the evening. With Peter most likely contacting him by late morning after retrieving Aunt May, the timing was optimal to invite him along so Peter could serve as a cover fo him.
Everything was lining up.
He opened a new journal file and began typing:
Status Update:
Peter: Inbound. Compelled. Emotional leverage confirmed.
Amy: Stable. Empowered. Mentorship Program with Peter.
Felicia: Engaged. Loyal for now. Ensure resource consistency to maintain trust.
Delilah: Emotional break predicted. Prep "Mason Terrell" protocol. Beginning quiet intel drip.
Emma Frost: Planning phase complete. Need to finalize approach.
Phase 3 Capital: Confirmed — $3.67 million. Current Allocation Funds: $271k.
Next Objective: Acquire three buildings for the three companies after completing LLC registration.
Observation: Plans are going smoothly, but there are a few hiccups along the way. Adjustment will be made at a later date.
Personal Note: I need a vacation.
He stared at that last line for a long moment, cursor blinking.
Then he saved the file, encrypted the logs, and shut the laptop.
Outside, the city lights flickered in the distance. Ethan sat in silence, wondering why his parents hadn't returned from their house hunting.
He didn't believe himself to be worried. Worry required attachment. Still, he quickly reached for his phone.
He dialed his mom's phone number. The first ring hadn't even finished before his mother answered—her voice warm and breathless.
"Sorry for being late—"
Then came the sound.
A sharp, echoing pop.
Ethan froze. Every nerve in his body snapped taut. His chair screeched backward as he stood so fast the phone nearly slipped from his hand.
"Mom?" His voice cracked. "What was that? Mom, answer me!"
The silence that followed was absolute. A cold rush flooded his chest, squeezing until every breath scraped his throat raw.
"Mom!" he shouted again, louder this time, panic surging past reason.
Nothing.
And then—her voice, distant and trembling through the receiver: "Ethan—oh honey, I'm so sorry! Some kid popped a balloon outside the store. Scared me half to death! I dropped the phone."
The world lurched back into color.
Ethan sagged against the desk, hand pressed to his forehead. His pulse still thundered in his ears. "Right," he muttered weakly. "That's… that's good. I thought the phone broke."
He forced a small laugh. It didn't sound human.
"You okay, sweetheart? You sound strange."
"I'm fine," he lied quickly. "Just took some medicine for a headache, it's making me sleepy. Didn't want you to worry if I fell asleep early."
"Alright, get some rest. We'll be home soon."
"Love you," he whispered before ending the call, though the words felt foreign leaving his lips.
The second the line went dead, the room seemed to tilt. His chest constricted, breaths shortening until each inhale scraped against invisible glass. His fingers trembled. He pressed both hands over his mouth, as if that could stop the panic and nausea from escaping.
But it came anyway.
The walls fell away, and he was no longer in his apartment.
He was eight again.
The door creaked open, and he stepped inside, backpack sliding off his shoulders, humming a tune he'd learned at school. His mother's voice had called from the kitchen, loud, telling him to run. Then—footsteps. A man's voice. A metallic click.
He'd seen the gun before his brain understood what it was.
One startled gasp from the man, one scream from his mother, one reflexive pull of the trigger—
The bang ripped through him. He saw her fall.
When the world stopped ringing, all that remained was the copper taste in his mouth and his father's words hours later:
"If you, you little bastard, had just stayed at your friend's house for thirty more minutes, she'd still be alive."
Then the beatings came. Not out of rage, but something worse—resentment distilled into routine. Each blow hollowed out another piece of him until only the fear remained. Fear and guilt.
He'd learned early that love was conditional. Love vanished with the smallest mistake.
Years later, that boy still lived behind his eyes.
He pressed his palms against them now, shaking as tears burned down his cheeks. "It's over," he whispered to no one. "It's not real. Not anymore."
But it felt real. His body didn't know the difference.
He sank to the floor, curling forward until his forehead touched his knees, trying to breathe through the storm clawing up his ribs. His mind, normally so disciplined, so clinical, fractured under the weight of memory.
The only thing that had ever given him solace back then were the stories—the comics. Spider-Man with Uncle Ben. People who made mistakes and still kept going. Aunt May never blamed Peter; she kept loving him anyway. That small mercy had once kept him alive.
He'd wanted to run away into those pages—to worlds where loss had meaning, where forgiveness wasn't a fantasy.
And now, somehow, he was in that world. The Marvel 616. Yet the irony wasn't lost on him. He'd been given everything he'd wished for… and still couldn't let anyone get close. His new parents cared, truly cared, but every instinct screamed that if he let them in, they'd die too.
He rubbed his arms, the tremor finally ebbing. His voice came out a rasp. "You can't save what you destroy."
He stood slowly, forcing his breathing into rhythm, rebuilding the calm like armor plating over broken circuitry. The screen's reflection stared back—eyes rimmed red, expression blank.
The strategist returned. The boy disappeared.
Still, beneath the cold logic and the plans and the power, the damage pulsed quietly, like a heartbeat he could never silence.