The silence in the alley was a heavy thing, broken only by the groans of the unconscious thug and the distant city hum. I stood there, my mind a chaotic internal monologue of 'Okay, be cool, don't say anything stupid,' while trying to project an aura of casual competence.
Emma Frost didn't move. Her arms were still crossed, her posture a fortress of defiance. But as I watched her, really watched her, the fanboy lens began to dissolve. The perfect lines from the comic book page were now a face etched with real exhaustion under the harsh security light. Her breathing was a little too controlled, a little too shallow. She wasn't The White Queen, future leader of the X-Men. Not yet. Right now, she was a terrified, cornered teenager who was doing a damn good job of hiding it. She was a living, breathing person, and my fictional crush was rapidly being replaced by a very real, and very dangerous, human being.
Her eyes narrowed, and I felt a faint, inquisitive pressure against the edges of my mind. It was subtle, not an attack, more like a curious finger tapping on a thick pane of glass.
I kept my expression neutral, but inside, I was fascinated. This was what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a telepath.
Emma's POV - Internal Monologue:
His mind... where was the noise? Every mind she'd ever touched, ever since this curse had fully awakened, was a chaotic storm of surface thoughts, anxieties, and desires. A constant, agonizing roar she was only just learning to wall off. But his... it was quiet. A deep, peaceful silence she could almost rest in. It was like a locked room, completely soundproof. Suspiciously so. But after the cacophony of her attackers, it was... a relief. It was the most unnerving, most intriguing thing she had ever encountered.
Her expression shifted from suspicion to outright fascination. The immediate threat was gone, and her sharp, analytical mind had already moved on to the next problem: me. She finally uncrossed her arms, taking a hesitant step forward.
"You," she said, her voice a mixture of awe and accusation. "What are you?" Her gaze flickered to the man I'd blasted, then back to me. "That wasn't normal strength. How did you do that?"
I could see the gears turning in her head, the pieces clicking into place. She was looking at me with a strange sense of dawning camaraderie, the suspicious but hopeful look of one freak meeting another in a world that hated and feared them.
I chose my words carefully. I couldn't reveal the System, but I couldn't deny what she was sensing either. "I'm like you," I said, my voice low and even. "A muta—" I caught myself. The word 'mutant' was a loaded gun in this world. "A metahuman."
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. "I know what a mutant is, Mr... Sterling, was it? My father has... specialists... who deal with them. But a 'metahuman'?"
"It's what we are," I improvised, the lie feeling surprisingly natural. "Humans with... meta abilities. Powers beyond the norm. 'Mutant' is a label they put on us. It's a cage. I prefer a more accurate description."
She considered this, her head tilted slightly. "A human with meta abilities," she repeated, tasting the words. She seemed to like the sound of it. The flicker of camaraderie in her eyes grew stronger. The suspicion remained, but it was now tempered with a powerful curiosity.
"So, metahuman," she said, her tone shifting, becoming more direct. "I need your help."
This was it. The pivot point. My [Sales & Negotiation] skill pinged in my mind. Establish value. Don't be a doormat.
"And why should I help you, Ms. Frost?" I asked, my tone perfectly even. I used her name deliberately, letting her know I knew exactly who she was.
A flash of annoyance crossed her face, quickly masked. She fell back on her most obvious assets, a test to see what kind of man I was. "For one, I'm beautiful," she stated, a hint of her infamous hauteur bleeding through. "Wealthy men always need a beautiful woman on their arm."
The old me would have blushed and stammered. The new me, with my +10 CHA and a head full of negotiation tactics, just smiled faintly. "A lovely offer, but I'm looking for assets, not arm candy."
My response clearly surprised her. The mask dropped, replaced by a look of grudging respect. She switched tactics, getting to the real heart of the matter. "Then you're in luck, Mr. Sterling," she said, her voice turning sharp and businesslike. "Because I am the greatest asset you will ever find. My father may be a monster, but he raised me to be his heir. I understand finance, corporate law, acquisitions, hostile takeovers... I can read a boardroom like you read a book. I can build an empire from nothing."
A lightbulb didn't just go on in my head; a whole damn chandelier lit up. My plans had always had a massive hole in them. I was the Digital Ghost, the technical genius who could build the future in a garage. But I was a ghost. I had no face, no voice in the real world of business. I could hack a company for a consultation fee, but that was small-time. To build a real enterprise, to become financially unfuckable, I needed someone who could navigate the treacherous waters of the corporate world.
And here she was. A business prodigy, trained from birth, dropped right in my lap.
I looked at her, truly seeing the partnership taking shape. She was the brilliant, ruthless public face. I was the anonymous, untouchable creator in the machine. It was perfect.
"An empire, you say?" I asked, letting a slow, genuine smile spread across my face. "Funny. I was just thinking of building one myself."