[A/N]: Alright, let's kick the week off strong! First goal is 200 Powerstones for TWO bonus chapters. If you're having fun, please vote, comment, and share!
"Get off your high horse, darling. We're defeated before we could even make a proper move. Accept it gracefully and let's all go our separate ways before this gets even more embarrassing than it already is."
Sinister activated the hologram projector built into the table. The room filled with blue light as footage played of X-Men destroying his bases with military precision, with coordinated and simultaneous strikes.
In one clip, remains of Sinister's original body were visible. Tumors grew across the flesh, accelerating and spreading like wildfire. The body bloated, distorted and collapsed into itself. Became nothing but a blob of cancerous mass and pus.
"That's what he did to my original body." Sinister's voice hollowed out. "Turned me into a fucking tumor from the inside out. An elegantly vicious solution, I must admit. Rather poetic, don't you think? The geneticist undone by his own biology." He leaned forward. Ichor dripped onto the table. "Not to mention, he possessed technopathic abilities strong enough to take complete control of my base's systems and weapons. Turned my own creations against me. And he gifted Silver Samurai's tachyon field to that Thurman bitch, rendering my Savage Land mutates completely fucking useless."
The display shifted to the Battle of New York when thousands of enhanced individuals appeared simultaneously. Whitehall stood, slammed his hands on the table. His accent thickened with rage, and knuckles whitened on the table edge.
"That mongrel bastard not only stole control of the narrative by acquiring some devil's reality-bending powers, but he created hundreds of thousands of mutants and Inhumans! Teleported thousands of them to New York to aid those so-called heroes!" His voice cracked. "Our decades of propaganda! Generations of carefully crafted work! Turned utterly fucking useless overnight! Now they're seen as heroes! HEROES! The subhuman filth are heroes now!"
The footage changed to people being resurrected and interviewed by news crews. They were crying, laughing and speaking of what they'd seen beyond death.
Madame Gao spoke, her formal cadence never wavering despite the content. "Most astounding of all, he brought exactly twelve hundred people back to life. We managed to acquire six of them for study. Six others remain missing, but those we captured..." She paused, fingers tightening on her cane. "The Hand has lost almost all ground in New York, replaced by the Cult of the Lightbringer. They call him the Honoured One, Bringer of Life, Luck, and Heroes. The desperate have hope now as now his cult has followers across the globe, competing with orthodox religions and growing without him lifting a finger to promote it."
The hologram shifted to London's British Museum parking lot. Jay stood surrounded by mutilated bodies.
Emma took over, her voice carrying that sharp edge and brutal honesty she was known for. "Finally, this evening's entertainment. Notice who's dead among the carnage. Jim Jaspers, the up-and-coming politician we paid quite handsomely to push his anti-superhuman campaign. Well, this is his current condition. Rather terminal, I'm afraid." She examined her nails again. "Also, the psychic feedback I'd been receiving from Selene? It's completely gone. So you can forget the mistic path to revenge, darlings. That avenue is closed."
Oppressive silence fell, and only the submarine's engines hummed.
Sublime's phone pinged, and as he read the message, his face went white. He threw the phone, and it accidently hit Whitehall square in the nose.
Blood streamed from Whitehall's nostrils. He clutched his face, swearing in German.
"Damn it all!" Sublime's voice cracked. His carefully maintained composure shattered completely. "Millennia of work! MILLENNIA! Coming apart because of one fucking man!" He stood, paced, and ran hands through his hair. "Now I have Magneto and his Brotherhood systematically destroying my facilities one by one, and they're closing in too close for comfort! They are hunting us!"
Emma stood frustrated and tired. "I believe this is my cue to exit, gentlemen, and I use that term loosely. It's been absolutely dreadful, and I mean that sincerely. Do try not to get yourselves killed in whatever desperate scheme you're about to concoct, or at least leave me out of it."
She walked toward the door. Behind her, voices rose again.
Sinister's voice cut through the chaos, suddenly energized despite his condition. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Before we descend into complete hysteria, might I propose a solution? A way Forward?"
Everyone turned.
Sinister leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "The Power Broker's reality-bending capabilities. Where did they originate? Not from his documented mutant abilities, surely. Those were well-catalogued before New York. Technopathy, yes. Healing, certainly. Power theft, obviously. But spontaneous reality manipulation on a cosmic scale? That's new. That's recent. That's..." He smiled. The expression grotesque on his damaged face. "That's stolen."
Whitehall wiped blood from his nose. "What are you suggesting, you cryptic bastard?"
"During the invasion, before his grand performance, there was a significant energy and dimensional anomaly at the Baxter Building. And Richards, as we all know, recently had a most interesting addition to his family." Sinister's smile widened. "A child. An infant. Born during the chaos."
Madame Gao's eyes narrowed. "The Richards baby."
"Precisely. Franklin Richards. And if my calculations are correct, if the genetic markers align as I suspect they do..." Sinister's voice dropped, theatrical and dark. "That child possesses reality-warping capabilities that would make even our dear departed Selene look like a fucking parlor magician. The Summers-Grey genetic line combined with Richard's brilliance? The Van Damme mutation potential? Oh, the possibilities are absolutely exquisite and intoxicating."
Sublime sat back down slowly. "You think Jay got his powers from the baby? Stole them from an infant?"
"I think Jay stole them. Or temporarily absorbed them to ensure the baby's safe birth. The mechanics matter less than the result." Sinister's fingers drummed on the table, leaving ichor smears. "If we could acquire that child's genetic material, study his DNA, replicate his capabilities..." He laughed, the sound wet and wrong. "We wouldn't need to fear the Power Broker. We could create our own. Loyal to us."
Whitehall leaned forward. "The Baxter Building is a fortress. Richards would never allow..."
"Richards is also a new father. He's distracted and vulnerable. And babies require checkups, vaccinations, and blood tests." Sinister's smile was predatory. "All we need is one corrupted doctor, one compromised nurse and one vial of blood. Hell, we could even grab some from a soiled diaper if we're desperate enough."
The remaining villains sat in red-lit silence. Sinister's proposal hanging in the air like poison gas.
Sublime looked at Whitehall. Whitehall looked at Gao. Gao stared at Sinister.
The submarine dove deeper as arctic waters pressed against the hull.
Magneto was hunting them somewhere above, and Jay's cult spread across the world. Leaving their decades of work crumbling.
And in that moment of desperation, with everything falling apart, Sinister's monstrous proposal didn't seem quite so monstrous anymore.
It seemed like the only option left.
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