The psychic scream wasn't just a sound in my head; it was a ghost. It left a chilling residue, an emotional stain on the air of my workshop that made the hair on my arms stand up. The sheer, raw terror of it was a physical weight.
A map of the surrounding blocks appeared in my vision, a pulsating red circle appearing only a few streets away. "How far?" I asked, my voice still a little hoarse.
My first instinct was to ignore it. This wasn't my problem. My plan was set: acquire Bishop's power, build a Mirror Dimension, grind my stats to godhood, and achieve 'unfuckability'. A random psychic scream was a dangerous, unpredictable variable.
But the ghost of that scream lingered. It wasn't just fear. It was defiance. It was someone fighting back with everything they had. Ignoring it felt... wrong. It felt like the old me.
"Damn it," I muttered, my fists clenching at my sides. The EP I'd absorbed from the outlet was still thrumming under my skin, a feeling of coiled, restless power.
"The old me would have called the cops and gone back to his pizza," I thought, pushing myself off the workbench. "The new me... the new me has 350 EP and a problem with bullies."
I broke into a sprint, throwing the heavy steel door open and hitting the street. The energy I'd stored was fuel. My legs pumped harder, my feet pounded the pavement faster. I covered the 400 meters in a fraction of the time it would have taken me before, my lungs barely burning.
I skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alley, my heart pounding from adrenaline, not exhaustion. The scene was stark under the single, flickering security light. A young woman with sharp, aristocratic features and shockingly blonde hair was pinned against a brick wall. Three large men in dark, ill-fitting suits were closing in on her.
My conscious thought process came to a dead stop.
Holy. Shit. It's her.
My mind, a place of cold logic and stolen genius, suddenly devolved into a screaming, gibbering mess of comic book trivia and sheer awe. Emma Frost. The White Queen. That's actually her. She's right there. Okay, Alex, BE COOL. Do not geek out. GODDD I WANT HER.
To ground myself, I desperately latched onto a system command. "[Observe]!" I thought, forcing myself to focus.
A small, transparent window appeared in my vision.
Name: Emma Grace Frost
Level: ??
Title: The Frost Heiress
Status: Cornered, Furious, Terrified.
Okay. Confirmed. Definitely her. Now, be the guy who belongs here.
The leader of the thugs sneered, reaching for her arm. "Just come with us quietly, little lady. Your father wants to have a word."
Her eyes, blazing with a cold fire that belied the psychic terror I'd felt, met his. "Tell my father to choke on his inheritance."
Right. Hero time. I straightened my jacket, took a deep breath, and strolled into the alley, adopting what I hoped was a casual, unconcerned air. My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest, but on the outside, I was just a guy out for a walk.
"Excuse me," I said, my new, deep voice sounding far calmer than I felt. "Sorry to interrupt."
All three thugs and Emma turned to look at me. The leader's face twisted into a scowl. "Beat it, pal. This ain't your business."
I ignored him completely, my focus entirely on Emma. I offered a small, polite smile, a calm island in the middle of their tense standoff. "Are these gentlemen bothering you?"
Emma's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. A flicker of surprise, of intrigue, crossed her features. A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips as she sized me up. "They are," she replied, her voice crisp and clear as a winter morning. "Super bothering me."
She said super bothering me. That's amazing.
"Well, we can't have that," I said, and exploded into motion.
My target was the man on the left. I closed the distance in two long strides, my fist striking him squarely in the kidney. The enhanced strength from my stored EP turned the blow into a brutal, debilitating impact. He grunted, a pained gasp escaping his lips as he folded.
The other two whirled around, shocked. The leader lunged, his meaty fists swinging wildly. I ducked under his arm and focused on the man nearest to Emma.
Okay, theory into practice. "Redirect!" I thought, holding out my left palm as he threw a clumsy punch. I caught his fist, and the kinetic energy of his blow didn't shatter my bones. It flowed into me, a jolt of pure power.
[EP: 350 -> 380]
In the same fluid motion, I directed that stolen energy into my right fist and slammed it into his chest. A miniature shockwave, a concussive BOOM, erupted from my knuckles. He was thrown backward off his feet as if hit by a car, landing in a heap and not moving.
The leader stared, his face a mask of disbelief. He looked from his unconscious comrade to me, at the way Emma Frost was now watching me with an unreadable, calculating intensity, and he made the first smart decision of the night. He turned and ran.
The alley fell silent. I stood over the two unconscious thugs, the adrenaline beginning to fade. Okay, Alex, play it cool. Don't geek out. She's right there. The White Queen. Just be normal.
I took a deep, steadying breath and turned to face her. She stood tall, arms crossed, studying me not as a savior, but as a new, unexpected piece on a chessboard. The raw power and intelligence rolling off her were palpable.
"Sorry about the... mess," I said, gesturing vaguely at the downed thugs. My voice was even, but my mind was screaming, You're talking to Emma Frost! Don't say anything stupid!
I met her icy gaze, which had shifted from shocked to intensely analytical. "Are you alright?"
She gave a slow, deliberate nod, her eyes never leaving mine, as if trying to peel back the layers of my mind. The silence stretched for a beat, thick with unspoken questions.
"Good," I said, offering a small smile that I hoped looked more confident than I felt. "My name is Alexander Sterling.Nice to meet you."