Chapter 119: The Reckoning
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The silence stretched like a held breath.
Julian knelt in the wreckage of what used to be the Academy's premier training facility, cradling his shattered wrist while tears of pain and humiliation carved tracks down his cheeks. The smell of ozone and crystalline dust hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic taste of blood from the dozen small cuts decorating his arms.
Around us, forty-odd students stood frozen in various stages of shock, awe, and barely controlled fear. Some clutched each other for support. Others backed toward the exits with the careful movements of prey animals who'd just witnessed an apex predator in action.
I felt their stares like physical weight. The whispers were low at first, but I could soon hear them. Fragments in English, Spanish, Mandarin, languages I couldn't identify but whose meaning was universal.
"Did you see..."
"The entire building..."
"Julian never stood a chance..."
"Who is this guy?"
My hands still tingled with residual Chi energy, that warm flow I'd finally managed to channel through Diamondhead's crystalline matrix.
The breakthrough felt monumental. It was like discovering I could fly or breathe underwater. But looking at the devastation around me, the shattered floor, destroyed equipment, a kid whose confidence I'd just ground into dust, the feeling was slightly mixed. Only slightly, though.
Hmm, maybe the arm breaking was a bit too much.
Julian tried to stand, his good hand braced against a chunk of rubble. One of his teammates, a redhead whose name I couldn't remember, rushed to help him up. However, it was the blonde girl, Roulette, whose reaction made my skin prickle with warning.
Ow shit, what was her power again?
Probability Disks? Crazy…
Her blue eyes blazed with fury as she stared at me. "You bastard," she snarled, probability waves beginning to shimmer around her clenched fists. "He was just sparring with you! He wasn't trying to actually hurt you!"
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
Other students shifted nervously, recognizing the build-up to another fight. Roulette's power was nasty – she could manipulate probability fields, making unlikely events happen with disturbing frequency. In a room full of damaged equipment and unstable crystal formations, that could turn lethal fast.
"Jennifer," Julian wheezed from where he knelt, "don't meddle…!"
"Shut up!" she snapped without taking her eyes off me. "This freak broke your wrist! Over a sparring match!" Her powers flared brighter, and I heard the distinctive crack of overstressed metal somewhere behind me. "I'll show him what happens when he messes with the Hellions!"
She took a step forward, probability fields coiling around her like invisible serpents.
That's when Kwannon moved.
One moment she was standing beside me, the next she was between me and Jennifer, purple psychic energy flickering around her hands. Not weapons, not yet, but the clear promise of them.
"Stand down, Jennifer," Kwannon said, her voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "Now."
"Get out of my way, Psy," Jennifer snarled, but I caught the uncertainty creeping into her voice. Even hopped up on righteous anger, she wasn't stupid enough to think she could take Kwannon in a straight fight.
The two women faced each other across three feet of crystalline debris, tension crackling between them like static electricity. Jennifer's probability manipulation warred with Kwannon's disciplined calm, making the air itself feel unstable.
Jennifer's mouth opened to warn again. But then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.
She hit the floor in a graceless heap, breathing steady but completely unconscious. The probability fields around her dissipated instantly, leaving only the acrid smell of ozone and the stunned silence of students who'd just witnessed something impossible.
"What the hell–" one of the other Hellions started.
"Language, Mr. Wilson."
The voice cut through the chaos like silk wrapped around a steel blade. Emma Frost stood in the doorway, one perfect eyebrow arched in mild disapproval. She looked like she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine – not a hair out of place, her white suit immaculate despite the destruction surrounding us.
But her eyes... her ice-blue eyes held depths that made me think of arctic winters and calculated vengeance.
"Ms. Stavros will be fine," Emma continued, stepping delicately around a pile of crystal shards that somehow seemed to part before her feet. "She's simply taking a small nap to cool her temper. I find sleep does wonders for perspective."
The casual way she mentioned putting a student to sleep with a telepathic command made several kids take involuntary steps backward. Power games within power games, Emma reminding everyone present exactly who was in charge here.
Her gaze swept the ruined dojo, taking in the destruction with the detached assessment of someone calculating property damage.
When her eyes found mine, I caught just a flicker of something – approval? amusement? – before her expression returned to professional neutrality.
"Well," she said mildly, "this is certainly more excitement than I anticipated for a Tuesday afternoon."
Julian struggled to his feet with the help of two teammates, his face pale but determined to meet his headmistress's gaze. "Ms. Frost, I can explain–"
"I'm sure you can, Mr. Keller." Emma's smile was warm as winter sunlight. "And I'm equally sure that explanation will involve you making choices that seemed reasonable at the time but appear less so in hindsight. Isn't that right?"
The gentle mockery in her voice made Julian flinch, but she wasn't done.
"After all, Julian," Emma continued, her tone remaining conversational despite the razor edge underneath, "challenging an unknown quantity without proper intelligence gathering is exactly the sort of tactical error I've spent three years trying to train out of you."
Ouch. Even I felt that one. Emma had just dressed down her star pupil in front of his entire peer group without raising her voice or using a single harsh word. It was a masterclass in psychological warfare.
But then her expression softened, just slightly, as she looked at Julian's injuries.
"However," she said, and the warmth in her voice sounded almost genuine, "I'm also impressed by your protective instincts. A leader who won't fight for his team isn't worth following. The execution was flawed, but the impulse was correct."
Julian straightened slightly at the backhanded compliment, some color returning to his cheeks. Emma had just salvaged his reputation in front of his followers while simultaneously making it clear that challenging me had been a mistake.
Damn, isn't she good at this?
Emma's attention shifted to me next, those ice-blue eyes studying my face with uncomfortable intensity. "Mr. Tennyson," she said, and her voice held notes I couldn't quite identify. "I trust you found our facilities... educational?"
"Your dojo has excellent acoustics, that's for sure," I replied carefully. "Really brings out the sound of crystalline resonance."
Her laugh was like champagne bubbles bursting. "How delightfully understated. Most men would be boasting about their victory right about now."
"Most men wouldn't have just destroyed their hostess's training facility. And most men," I'd said this before, but I loved repeating this, "aren't Ben Tennyson."
Why would I brag about a fight of this little value?
"True." She stepped closer, her heels clicking against crystal fragments with each step. "Though I notice Ms. Braddock felt compelled to defend you. How interesting."
All eyes turned to Kwannon, who stood perfectly still despite being the sudden center of attention. Her expression remained neutral, but I caught the slight tension in her shoulders that suggested she was less comfortable with the scrutiny than she appeared.
"Ben was not the aggressor," Kwannon said simply. "Julian issued the challenge. Ben accepted it. The outcome was determined by skill and preparation."
"And you felt the need to intervene when Ms. Stavros became... overzealous?"
"I felt the need to prevent a second unnecessary confrontation."
Emma nodded slowly, as if Kwannon's response confirmed something she'd already suspected. The telepathic conversation that passed between them lasted perhaps two seconds, but I was wise enough to know they were discussing me.
"Manuel and Haroun," Emma said without looking away from us, "please escort Mr. Keller to the medical wing. The doctor will want to examine that wrist. The rest of you, I believe you have afternoon classes to attend."
The dismissal was polite but absolute. Students began filing out with the careful haste of people escaping a predator's territory. I watched Julian leave, supported by his teammates, and by then my slight feeling of guilt had vanished.
He's just a kid. But a powerful, arrogant, entitled kid. He needs to learn.
When the last student disappeared, Emma turned her full attention to Kwannon and me. The smile she wore was different now. Less calculated, more genuinely amused.
"Well," she said, surveying the wreckage once more, "I haven't seen the dojo this thoroughly destroyed since Sebastian decided to test his power absorption against a holographic Sentinel. At least that had the excuse of involving actual explosives."
"Sorry about the mess," I said.
"Oh, don't be. Insurance will cover the repairs, and the spectacle was worth far more than the property damage." Her eyes glittered with something predatory. "You channeled energy in ways that shouldn't be possible for your alien form. How delightfully unexpected."
Before I could respond, she was already moving toward the exit. "Ms. Psylocke, Mr. Omnitrix, would you join me in my office? I believe we have several things to discuss."
It wasn't really a request.
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