Chapter 38

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1st POV

Dressing to impress, I used my ever-present digital control to rapidly spread campaign materials and register myself in the correct systems. Jumping into my car, my clothes shifted into a sharp-looking suit as I accelerated out of my driveway.

Rapidly speeding up, I casually flicked through the immediate online reactions as I headed deeper into the city. Breezing through traffic by premeditating the light changeovers, I quickly reached Central Park. Jumping out of my car, I began casually strolling across the grassy park.

Spotting my target—a standalone stage surrounded by people and political posters—I adjusted the scheduling and slightly manipulated the manager's mind. A third podium was moved onto the stage under the confused eyes of the two mayoral candidates.

Jumping up from the crowd, I flipped through the air before landing squarely behind the newly placed podium at the center of the stage. Looking around, I noted the general confusion. Taking initiative, a buff security guard timidly approached me.

"Uhm, excuse me, ma'am. Are you meant to be here?" – Security Guard

"Yep, I'm also a mayoral candidate." – Morgan

Nodding hesitantly, the security guard cast another glance at me before stepping off the stage. Seeing me being allowed to stay, one of the other candidates—a balding old man who looked closer to the grave than the podium—turned bright red and started yelling.

Spit flying everywhere, I casually erected a psionic barrier to catch his saliva and throw it back at him. The man went on for an impressive thirty seconds before he finally stopped, gasping for air.

Medics rushed onstage, escorting him off as the entire park fell into silence.

Waiting a few seconds to see if the last remaining candidate would say his piece, I smirked when he chose to remain silent. Taking the lead, I addressed the gathered crowd of reporters and civilians.

"So… now that he's gone, shall we get to business? Yep? Most of you here are probably incredibly confused about why I'm here, so let me clarify. I got bored and figured it would be fun to run for mayor—if only to screw with the old politicians like the guy who was just escorted off." – Morgan

I paused, waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions. Stepping forward, I was mildly surprised to see J. Jonah Jameson among the reporters, pen in hand and cigar hanging from his lips. The near-perfect duplicate of J.K. Simmons took the cigar from his mouth and addressed me in his signature gruff voice.

"As mayor, what would you do about Spider-Man? Or are you a freak who sympathizes with him?" – Jonah

Not liking his tone or the thinly veiled racism, I decided to shut this down now.

"I'll have you know, Jonah, I would create a legal department comprised of meta-humans responsible for handling powered individuals where the police forces fall short. And I would personally invite Spider-Man to join it. He helps a lot of people and should be respected." – Morgan

Practically growling, Jonah exhaled a cloud of smoke before jabbing a finger in my direction and yelling.

"I knew it! You freaks are in cahoots!" – Jonah

Starting to get mildly frustrated with Jonah's increasingly racist remarks, I decided to sort this out before he went full genocidal.

"You should watch your words, Jonah. It doesn't look good for any organization to have an openly racist figurehead. You should focus on your job instead of making up stories. Either way, you should leave for now and send someone else from the Daily Bugle to take over." – Morgan

Fuming, Jonah stamped out his cigar before storming off through the crowd. The other reporters, sensing their chance, flocked forward and started shouting questions.

I glanced at the remaining mayoral candidate, only to find him asleep on his feet. Chuckling, I pointed him out to the cameras before answering more questions.

An hour later, as I was saying my farewells to the final reporter, a shady civilian approached.

Wearing a dark hood that obscured his face, hands in his pockets, he power-walked straight toward me.

Whipping back his hood revealed a face covered in horrible scars. Pulling out a gun, he aimed dead center at my forehead.

"The Hellfire Club sends their regards." – Stranger

Saying that, he pulled the trigger.

Watching the bullet in slow motion, I analyzed it in real time, taking note of its anti-mutant properties. If it had hit a mutant, it would have suppressed their X-gene and made them human.

Interesting.

Catching the bullet midair, I snatched the gun from his grip and scanned his mind. Finding nothing, I quickly determined he was a remotely programmed clone.

Figures.

Shrugging, I returned my perception to normal speed as chaos unfolded around me.

Left with no gun, the clone rapidly reached for his other pocket.

Pulling out a dead man's switch, he ripped open his jacket to reveal a high-yield explosive strapped to his chest. But I'd already seen it coming, so his reveal wasn't surprising.

Jamming his thumb down on the button, a distinct beep rang through the suddenly silent crowd as the bomb armed itself.

Grinning maniacally, the clone quickly released the trigger—

BOOM!!

The explosion rang out, people screaming in apparent pain.

But as the dust settled, no one was actually hurt. The nearest civilians looked at me, then at themselves, confusion replacing their panic.

Holding out a single hand, I had contained the blast within a barely perceptible energy shield. Nearby, a recruiter snapped photos eagerly as I casually waved my hand, making the explosion disappear.

The tension in the air immediately shifted.

People dusted themselves off, realizing they had been saved. A reporter rushed forward, camera in my face, railing off questions. Holding his camera steady with one hand, I motioned for him to calm down with the other.

"There's only one thing I'd like to say at the moment: Not cool, Hellfire Club. I'll come get you guys next—we don't need terrorists running around free." – Morgan

Letting go of the reporter's camera, I turned and silently walked away.

Sitting in my car, I took a moment to think. The Hellfire Club. They'd gone from manipulating politicians behind the scenes to sending clones with anti-mutant weapons after me.

A bold move. A stupid move.

Coming to a decision, I swung my car into gear and sped out of the parking lot. I wasn't going home yet.

I was going to have a chat with Emma Frost.

Less than thirty seconds later, I phased through the penthouse floor of Frost International, completely invisible. Stealth wasn't necessary, but I wanted to see what she did when caught off guard.

Casually strolling through the private residence, I let my psionic senses map out the building. I passed by rooms filled with expensive artwork, lavish furniture, and walls layered with psionic defenses—nothing I couldn't walk through.

Then, I found her office.

Still invisible and masking all detectable traces of my presence, I stepped inside.

Sitting behind an immaculate white desk, Emma Frost was completely absorbed in her work. Dressed in a crisp white suit, her icy blue eyes flicked between reports and financial statements. She was the epitome of a powerful businesswoman, untouchable and in control.

Until I revealed myself.

Taking the seat opposite her, I dropped my invisibility and waited.

At first, she didn't notice. Then, her breathing hitched ever so slightly.

Her psionic defenses flared, lashing out at me like an invisible tidal wave.

A mistake.

I brushed off the mental attack as easily as I would a speck of dust. At the same time, Emma's body shimmered, shifting into her diamond form—a reflexive defense mechanism.

Finally, she looked up, her expression icy but composed.

"Who are you, and how did you get in here?" – Emma

I chuckled, picking up a loose diamond paperweight from her desk. Holding it up to the light, I casually crushed it into dust with my fingers.

Her eyes narrowed.

"You should already know who I am," I said smoothly. "Your little group ordered a hit on me, after all. Also, you should really keep track of your business competitors, Emma. I'm hurt."

Her jaw tensed minutely, but she didn't break eye contact. Her mind was already working through a thousand scenarios, flipping through past conversations, contracts, and alliances.

Then, it clicked.

I saw the exact moment she pinpointed the source of the attack.

Sebastian Shaw.

Her mind flashed with images of him, his smug arrogance, his constant attempts to seize more control.

Oh? So she didn't authorize this?

Leaning forward slightly, she quickly changed tactics, shifting from defensive to seductive.

Her diamond form dropped, revealing her flawless, pale skin. She leaned forward just enough to emphasize her assets, her voice dipping into a sultry purr.

"I recognize you now. You're the rising genius—the one who built a multi-trillion-dollar empire in less than a year." She smirked. "I don't have any issues with you, darling. If there's a hit on you, I can assure you, it wasn't my doing. That sounds like something Shaw would pay for."

I tilted my head, letting her think her charms were having some effect.

Then, with a flick of my wrist, I sealed the plunging neckline of her suit shut, reshaping the fabric with matter manipulation.

Emma let out a soft groan of frustration as she leaned back in her chair, realizing her usual tactics wouldn't work here.

Her expression hardened.

"Alright, I'll be blunt. What do you want?" – Emma

I grinned, leaning back as well.

"Oh, nothing too difficult. Just a bit of housecleaning. You should clear up your less… moral endeavors before I take over." My eyes glowed briefly. "If I find that you're still experimenting on the innocent, I'll make you experience every moment of their suffering firsthand."

For the first time, Emma faltered slightly.

Good.

Before she could speak, I reached out—not physically, but mentally.

Across the city, in one of her facilities, hundreds of doors unlocked simultaneously. At the same time, I sifted through the memories of the captives, picking out the most painful, horrific moments they had endured.

Then, I implanted them into Emma's mind.

She barely had time to process what was happening before she screamed.

Clutching her head, she fell from her chair, writhing as her own mind forced her to experience every torture, every violation, every hopeless moment her victims had endured.

I let her suffer for exactly sixty seconds before pulling back.

The memories remained—but now they were hers to live with.

Emma panted heavily, still on the floor, eyes wide with raw pain.

I stood, straightened my suit, and stepped toward the window.

"Consider this a warning," I said over my shoulder. "Clean up your act, Emma. Because next time, I won't be so nice."

Then, without another word, I phased through the glass and disappeared into the night.

Psionically sweeping the entire country, I located my next target in seconds.

Opening a rippling portal, I stepped through—

And emerged above a luxury yacht, floating in the warm, tropical air.

Below me, the massive ship cut through the crystal-clear waters, its golden exterior gleaming under the sun. On the deck, dozens of guards patrolled, all heavily armed.

Cute.

I dropped.

Impacting the deck hard, the wood splintered beneath me in a cloud of dust and debris.

A split second later, gunfire erupted.

Bullets tore through the air, but I didn't even blink. Scanning their minds as they fired, I sorted them instantly.

The irredeemable ones? Dead in an instant.

The misguided but salvageable? Knocked unconscious.

By the time I reached the staircase leading below deck, the last guard hit the ground behind me.

Descending through the ship's well-lit interior, I dissolved every door in my path, revealing chained captives in nearly every room.

Then, I found him.

A massive, gold-encrusted door stood at the end of the hallway.

I barely slowed down as I kicked it off its hinges.

The door flew across the room, aimed directly at Sebastian Shaw—

Only for his body to flash with red energy, absorbing the kinetic force midair.

The shirtless man turned, his expression twisting into rage as he pulled up his pants.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, interrupting me while I'm having fun?!" – Shaw

I didn't answer.

Instead, I grabbed him by the shoulders and drove my knee into his balls.

His powers flared, trying to absorb the impact—

But I supplemented it with psionic energy.

A sickening POP echoed through the room.

Sebastian's face froze, his mouth opening in a slow, high-pitched whine before he collapsed to his knees, clutching his ruined manhood.

I kicked him aside, stepping past him toward the traumatized captives.

"Let's get you out of here." – Morgan

I looked down at Sebastian Shaw, now curled on the floor, hands clutching what remained of his manhood. His usual arrogant smirk was gone, replaced by pure agony.

Good.

Turning my attention to the captives, I scanned the room. Men, women, even children—all in various states of malnourishment, injury, and exhaustion. Their eyes, once empty and broken, now flickered with hope and rage.

Raising my hand, I dissolved their chains into dust.

Many of them hesitated, staring at me in shock.

"You're free," I said simply.

Then, I grabbed Shaw by the collar and dragged him upstairs, his struggling form thumping against each step.

Emerging onto the sunlit deck, I threw him onto the wooden planks, letting him scramble to his feet. The liberated prisoners followed, forming a loose circle around us.

Shaw staggered upright, panting heavily, his powers struggling to recover from the damage I inflicted. Desperation flashed across his face before it hardened into anger.

"You think this means anything?" he spat. "You're nothing but a passing storm. The Hellfire Club has existed for centuries! You think taking me down will change that?"

I tilted my head. "Yes. And I can make an example out of you whilst at it."

I turned to the gathered two hundred or so prisoners. Their faces twisted with hatred, fists clenching as they realized what I was offering them.

"He's all yours."

Silence. Then, a small figure stepped forward—a boy no older than eleven, his frail frame trembling with pent-up fury.

Then, with all the strength his small body could muster, he punched Shaw in the jaw.

Teeth flew. Blood splattered the deck.

Like sharks, the rest followed.

Shaw barely had time to scream before the mob swarmed him. Fists, feet, makeshift weapons—every ounce of suffering they had endured was returned tenfold.

I stood back, watching impassively, healing any prisoner too weak to keep going. I ensured Shaw didn't die too quickly, healing him just enough to extend his punishment.

An hour later, the malnourished captives finally stepped back, exhausted but victorious.

Shaw lay on the deck, barely recognizable, his body a broken, mangled ruin.

Kneeling beside him, I placed a hand on his head.

"And now, for your real punishment."

With a flick of my psionic abilities, I stripped his power away. The once-mighty Sebastian Shaw, who could absorb and manipulate energy, was now completely, utterly human.

His bloodied eyes widened in horror.

"W-what did you do?" – Shaw

I leaned down, grinning.

"You wasted your power, so I took it. And just to make sure you never forget your sins..."

I reached into his mind, copying every moment of pain and humiliation his victims had suffered. Every lash of the whip, every moment of despair, every cry for help.

And I made him live it.

Locking his consciousness within an infinite loop of suffering, I ensured he would relive every moment of his victims' pain with perfect clarity—until the day he died.

His body twitched violently before going still.

His eyes remained open, but his mind was no longer present in reality.

The prisoners stared, some in horror, some in satisfaction.

I stood, brushing off my hands.

"Your ship is near the coast. The authorities are already en route. Go home. Rebuild."

With that, I opened a portal and stepped through.