Chapter 14: Losing Control

The moment Abigail stepped out of Stark Industries, she was swarmed by a horde of reporters, trapping her with no escape.

A slight headache made her feel uncomfortable. She tried to turn around to avoid the reporters, but as soon as she did, she ran into another circle of them, completely losing her chance to retreat.

Abigail tightly gripped the hem of her clothing, trying to hide the panic on her face. However, the reporters, clearly prepared, bombarded her with a barrage of questions that drowned her out:

"Miss Rhodes, we heard that not long before Mr. Stark's disappearance, you were also kidnapped. Is there any connection between that and Mr. Stark's disappearance?"

"Women have always come and gone around Mr. Stark, but you, Miss Rhodes, have been by his side since three years ago. Now that something has happened to him, what is your role in handling these matters? Are you a lover, or a subordinate?"

"Miss Rhodes, is your connection with Osborn Industries causing you to waver at this time?"

Abigail, standing bewildered in front of the crowd, was for the first time overwhelmed by a tidal wave of questions and criticisms. She tried to step back and distance herself from these incessantly probing individuals, but there was no way out.

She looked into their eyes and knew they all wanted to dig something out of her, whether it was gossip, business secrets, or something more hidden. Their sharp, invasive stares seemed to pierce through her, as if they wanted to tear her fragile body apart.

So terrifying.

So terrifying.

So… hateful.

Gradually, anger overwhelmed her fear, and something uncontrollable began to stir inside her.

What she didn't expect was how quickly the last straw would come:

"Miss Rhodes, as I know, three years ago you were just an ordinary college student from out of town. What made you rise so quickly to become the chief engineer at Stark Industries and manage such a massive project? Mr. Stark claimed you were just his student—was that really the case?"

Abigail's eyes widened in shock. The answer she had prepared was stuck in her throat, slowly dissipating.

The noise around her started to make her dizzy, and darkness surged like a tidal wave. Abigail squeezed her eyes shut and hoarsely whispered, "Shut up."

Her voice was too low for anyone to hear.

Suddenly, Abigail opened her eyes wide and shouted, "I said, shut up!"

No reporter would stop just because of her shout, but at that moment, after the seemingly fragile young woman lost control, a sharp, shrill scream pierced the air, exploding in their ears like an explosion!

The scream was so piercing that many people couldn't bear it and covered their ears, curling their bodies to try to avoid the intense shock.

However, even those who covered their ears couldn't escape, as the scream, like a virus invading the brain, echoed violently in their minds. It was as if thousands of vengeful spirits were laughing bitterly together, an unbearable sound.

The scream from her mind could not be blocked by covering their ears.

The reporters closest to Abigail had blood pouring from their ears, and the stairs of Stark Industries, once packed with reporters and photographers, now had twisted bodies collapsing on them. The nearby signals were severely interfered with, and for a moment, on the steps filled with people, there was only Abigail standing, her presence towering over the fallen.

The evening sunlight cast its shadows, and in the blood-red light, the young girl's face slowly disappeared into the darkness. Her empty eyes stared at the people on the ground, struggling and clutching their heads, her gaze distant as if she saw nothing.

Abigail lowered her head and looked at her hand. After staring for a moment, she muttered to herself, "I should go home. Mom will be home to see me today."

Like a delicate porcelain doll, the girl tilted her head and quietly stepped down from the stairs. The people around her, their ears bleeding, tried to grab her clothes for help but she simply walked past them.

With a disgusted frown, she stepped over the people struggling on the ground and walked away.

After getting off the plane, Charles rushed back to the school under the setting sun. But at that moment, he suddenly covered his ears.

A sharp scream, like the wail of a vengeful spirit, struck his brain, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

After a brief moment of recovery, Charles suddenly turned around and grabbed Hank, shouting, "This is bad. Abigail is in trouble!"

Hank paused, "We left her the medicine—"

Charles closed his eyes. "It's too late. She can't control herself. How many of our people are still in New York? How many can we contact?"

Hank stood by the school gate under the evening sky, fumbling with his dead phone. Helpless, he said, "Professor, we can only go back and train her again. But it's okay. If Abigail is in trouble, Raven should be able to… help her." Seeing the professor's questioning look, Hank nervously scratched the back of his head, "Sorry, sorry. I shouldn't have kept this from you, but she told me I couldn't tell you…"

Charles frowned, looking at the flustered Hank. "What exactly is going on?"

Hank took a deep breath. "Magneto has been monitoring Abigail all this time. Raven said this girl is of extraordinary importance to him, so he'll probably always protect her. So, don't worry, Professor. We'll go back now."

He said this while gently pushing Charles into the school.

Charles rubbed his forehead, and at that moment, another shrill scream echoed in his ears. He turned to Hank and asked, "Did you hear that? That sound?"

Hank looked at him, confused.

Charles furrowed his brows. "Even if Erik went, it might not help. Let's move faster."

"I used to think Abigail's ability was to reflect other people's emotions like a mirror, but we overlooked the source. Abigail herself is a mirror."

"In other words, she reflects other people's emotions, and when enough negative emotions accumulate from the outside… she loses control."

Walking aimlessly through the broad streets of New York, Abigail kept her head down, muttering to herself, "I need to get home quickly."

At this moment, she should have flagged a taxi, but her vision was a blurry red. She tried to make out the vehicles through the mist, reaching out to hail a cab, only to realize the car had already stopped. Two cars had collided into a heap, shattered glass scattered everywhere.

What's going on?

Abigail looked up and found that the intersection was in chaos. Cars were piled up in a mass, evidently the result of a collective car crash.

Abigail covered her slightly aching ears, trying to block out the outside noise:

"Look, look, it's Abigail Rhodes, the porcelain doll-looking one!"

"She's so beautiful. No wonder Stark treated her so well. By the way, have you guys prepared your questions?"

"Hey, when I hadn't seen her in person, I thought she got to the top because of her own abilities. What a shame."

"Didn't Stan say that now that Stark is gone, the company's power has fallen into this girl's hands?"

...

Countless voices, countless clamoring.

Sharp, mocking laughter.

Where were these voices coming from?

It was as if they had been accumulating in her mind for days, buried deep underground, and suddenly erupted in an instant.

Abigail was scared. She didn't know what was happening yet, but everything in front of her seemed twisted and blurred, giving her a disoriented feeling.

Are these sounds? The sounds I'm hearing? Or had I been hearing them for a long time but never realized it?

Abigail was frightened. She squatted on the street where the car crash had occurred, clutching her head in fear.

Amidst the incessant voices, she identified a familiar one—a boy's voice, magnetic and endearing: "Abigail."

Ah, it was Peter. Peter was calling her.

Although they had broken up, the moment she heard his voice, Abigail felt as if she had found a precious pearl amidst the sand. She felt a fleeting moment of joy.

"Is it because of him? Is it because of that man that you abandoned me?"

Abigail froze.

Something cold began to spread in her heart.

She forcefully shook off Peter's voice and tried to find some comforting, familiar sounds among the sarcastic jeers—perhaps… Charles, maybe Hank, the people she had only met once but still felt grateful toward.

Ah… found it.

"Hank! Abigail Rhodes didn't die. She's still alive. How strange, I couldn't find her for ten years."

Charles' voice was gentle, giving Abigail a sense of warmth. She hugged her arms tightly, quietly smiling to herself.

The professor… he's such a kind person.

Soon… soon, she would leave New York, go far away, and be with them.

Charles said that the school was the last sanctuary in this world, a place without discrimination or prejudice.

"I thought that medicine had killed her, but I didn't expect she survived."

Like a cold current cutting through her, Abigail froze and stared blankly at the ground in front of her.

"Maybe it wasn't the medicine that caused the problem. Perhaps the puppeteer couldn't bring himself to kill his own daughter. Or maybe he changed his mind and hid Abigail away."

"But it's alright. We've found her."

Abigail bit her lip tightly, covering her head.

Maybe it was a misunderstanding, maybe if she listened longer, she would realize this wasn't true. But at that