Chapter 115: Flight with the White Queen
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The sky slid across us outside the window as I relaxed. The leather seat molded to my body like it had been designed specifically for me.
Knowing Emma Frost, maybe it had been, who could tell?
Everything in this jet screamed calculated luxury. The type that made you comfortable while reminding you exactly who held the power.
Its owner, Emma, settled across from me with the fluid grace of a predator getting comfortable before a meal. Her white suit caught the cabin lights in ways that made her seem to glow, an angel wrapped in designer fabric and deadly intent.
"So," she began slowly, crossing her legs in a movement that was surely intentional, "how does it feel to be the most fascinating man in the world right now?"
"Heavy," I admitted, surprising myself with the honesty. "Like wearing a crown made of other people's hopes."
Her laugh was crystalline, sharp enough to cut. "How delightfully poetic. And here I thought you'd deflect with that charming humor of yours."
"Day off from being charming. You caught me at a rare sincere moment."
"Ah, is that right? Hmm, then I'll treasure it accordingly." She leaned forward, and her perfume – something that probably cost more than most people's yearly salary – wrapped around me like silk. "Ben, my darling, I need to ask you something as both a telepath and someone who's studied psychology extensively. How do you really feel? After reversing death on that scale… most minds might crumble."
That question was getting quite repetitive by now, but I guess that only went to show how big an achievement it was. The concern in her voice almost sounded genuine. Almost.
"Who says mine didn't?" I countered, watching her reaction. "Maybe I'm just really good at pretending to be sane."
"No. That's not true." Her ice-blue eyes studied me with an intensity that made me understand why people feared her even without telepathy. "Broken minds have tells. Micro-expressions, verbal patterns, physiological responses. You're remarkably whole for someone who just played god."
Remarkably whole. That was one way to put it.
I guess it was the knowledge that there were crazier feats out there in this insane universe. The meta knowledge of it all. It helped me remain grounded. But Emma didn't need to know that. Nobody did.
"Maybe that's just what makes me special," I said, injecting just enough arrogance to make it believable. "Not everyone's Ben Tennyson, after all."
She linked. Then she actually laughed at the joke, a sound that transformed her face from calculating to almost human. "There's the ego I was waiting for. I was starting to worry you'd gone humble on me."
"Never. Humility's for people who can't back up their claims."
"Mmm, I totally agree." She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, definitely not accidentally brushing my knee. "You can certainly back up yours. Though I'm curious about something."
What is she curious about?
The jet hummed around us, that particular silence of pressurized air and distant engines.
Outside the windows, clouds painted themselves gold in the afternoon light.
"You have the most powerful device in the universe strapped to your wrist," she continued, "yet I saw you pull out that manual during our ascent. Ancient martial arts training? That seems almost... quaint."
"Ah, this." I said. I'd been flipping through Charmcaster's Chi manual without really thinking about it, my fingers tracing the diagrams that seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly at them.
The leather binding felt warm, like it held energy just waiting to be accessed.
"The Omnitrix doesn't always work," I explained, closing the manual but keeping it on my lap. "Sometimes it times out. Sometimes people can stop me from transforming."
Like Cassandra holding my arm with telekinesis.
"And sometimes," I met her gaze directly, "you need power that comes from within, not from a watch."
Emma's interest sharpened like a blade being drawn. "Well. Your power does come from within, Ben."
"...."
She rose from her seat in a slow but fluid motion, crossing the small distance between us. Instead of returning to her seat, she settled beside me, her thigh pressing against mine through expensive fabric.
"May I?" She gestured at the manual, but she was already reaching for it, her fingers brushing mine in the process.
The contact lasted a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"Ah, this is… Ancient Tibetan breathing techniques," she murmured, examining a page that detailed the foundation of Chi manipulation. "The cultivation of inner energy through specific respiratory patterns. How wonderfully esoteric."
"You think it's nonsense or something?"
Her proximity made it hard to focus. This close, I could see the perfect application of her makeup, smell that probably-illegal perfume, feel the warmth radiating from her body. Everything about Emma Frost was weaponized seduction.
"You really think of me so narrow minded?" She laughed. "Even before witnessing you reverse time and death, Emma Frost has seen a lot of things to convince her or magic. I've researched about this."
"That's surprising. If that's the case, can we talk about it? I think I need some help." This thing wasn't as easy as reading a Xianxia novel.
"I'm here to serve."
"The White Queen? I'll enjoy it, then. So here. The basic principle seems simple enough," I said, taking the manual back and finding the breathing exercise I'd been attempting. "Breathe in for four counts through the nose, hold for seven, release for eight through the mouth. Each breath is supposed to draw energy from your surroundings into your core."
"It sounds complicated. Show me, sweet boy."
I closed my eyes, straightening my spine the way the manual instructed. Breathe from the diaphragm, not the chest. Imagine roots extending from your body into the earth.
Hard to do that at 35,000 feet, but I tried anyway.
The first breath came easy. In through the nose – one, two, three, four. The air felt different when you really focused on it, heavier somehow, like it carried weight beyond oxygen.
Hold. One, two, three...
By the fourth count, my lungs started protesting. By the seventh, they burned. The exhale came out as more of a gasp than the controlled release the manual described.
"I see the problem, kind of. Try that one more time," Emma said softly. "But this time, don't fight your body. Work with it."
I tried again.
This time, I noticed something. When I stopped trying to force the breathing pattern and instead let it flow, there was a moment – just a flicker – where I felt something. Like static electricity gathering in my chest, but warmer, more alive.
The sensation vanished the moment I tried to grasp it.
"Looks like it didn't help. Frustrating, isn't it?" Emma's voice carried amusement. "The harder you chase power, the more it eludes you. Rather like relationships, really."
"Speaking from experience, Miss Frost?"
"Oh, yes. Constantly." Her hand found my arm, fingers tracing the outline of the Omnitrix through my sleeve. "I could help, you know. Use my telepathy to quiet your mind, remove the distractions that prevent proper focus."
"Appreciate the offer, but the Omnitrix has opinions about telepathic interference."
"Of course it does." She didn't sound disappointed, just more intrigued. "A mind I can't read, a will I can't bend. Do you have any idea how rare that makes you?"
"About as rare as a telepath who actually asks permission?"
She squeezed my arm, not quite painful but definitely a warning. "Careful, darling. I might start thinking you don't appreciate my restraint."
I leaned closer, our noses almost touching. "And what would Miss Frost do to the Hero of Mutantkind if I'm not careful?"
The Stepford Cuckoos somehow chose that moment to enter. I withdrew my face while Emma giggled. The cuckoos moved with that eerie synchronization that made my skin crawl even though I knew what they were.
Three identical platinum blondes, perfect down to the way they blinked in unison.
"Mother," Celeste (or maybe Mindee?) said. "We've brought refreshments."
They set down a tray of coffee that smelled like it cost more than most people's monthly salary, along with pastries so delicate they looked like they'd dissolve if you breathed on them wrong. Their eyes found mine, and for a moment, I caught whispers at the edge of my consciousness.
I allowed Omnitrix to filter them in.
He's even more interesting up close.
Mother has excellent taste.
I wonder if he'd notice if we–
The Omnitrix pulsed, cutting off whatever that thought was going to be.
"Girls," Emma's voice carried enough warning to freeze hell. "Manners."
"Of course, Mother." They replied in perfect unison, withdrawing with smiles that promised mischief.
"Your daughters?" I asked, though we both knew the truth was more complicated.
"Surprised I'm a mother? I know I don't look a day older than twenty."
"The Lady of Frost International has a way with her jokes.
"How rude of you, Ben. But yes. They are my daughters. In every way that matters." Emma poured coffee with practiced elegance. "They're brilliant, powerful, and occasionally need reminding about boundaries. Rather like their mother."
"Is that a warning or a promise?"
"Both, darling. Always both."
The coffee tasted like liquid gold mixed with just enough bitterness to keep it interesting. Kind of like Emma herself.
We continued talking over coffee, and I brought up the main reason I boarded her plane. Yes, there was more to this rather than just enjoying her company.
When Charmcaster told me about the spirit of the Iron Fist and the trouble in finding it, I was worried.
But I had a billionaire lady right beside me, who'd do pretty much anything with all her money and power to impress me.
"So," she started after I explained some of the situation to her, settling back against me in a way that was definitely not professional, "China. You need to go there with your family and that sorceress girl… Dare I ask for more details?"
"I was hoping you'd ask that," I said.
As manipulative as she was, Emma wasn't an enemy. And if she was, she would find out eventually so asking her help and also controlling the narrative made more sense than letting her meddle in my things on her own.
I added, "There's supposedly an Iron Fist spirit wandering around. Ancient master, blessed by dragons, exists between heartbeats. Might be willing to teach complete Chi manipulation to someone worthy."
Emma's eyebrow arched elegantly. "And you think you're worthy?"
"I think I'm interesting enough to get its attention. Beat it up with Four Arms first in case it resists. Whether that translates to worthy remains to be seen."
"Such refreshing honesty." She shifted, and suddenly her breath was warm against my ear. "I can have flights arranged within hours. Private jets, diplomatic immunity, whatever documentation you need. Frost International has significant holdings in China."
I had a feeling she'd be the first to offer help even before I asked. I held back a smile. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. Call it an investment in future possibilities." Her surprisingly soft hand found mine, fingers interlacing with casual intimacy. "Besides, I find the idea of you owing me a favor rather... stimulating."
"Emma."
"Yes, darling?"
"You're so trying to seduce me."
"Oh no. Is it working?"
I turned to look at her fully. This close, I could see the calculation behind the desire, the careful construction of every moment. But there was something else too.
Genuine interest, maybe even genuine attraction, buried under layers of manipulation and control.
"Ask me again when we land."
Her laugh was rich with promise. "I do so love a challenge."
The plane banked slightly, beginning our descent toward Massachusetts. Emma pointed out the window at the sprawl of her territory below – Frost International buildings that looked like ice sculptures, the Academy grounds that seemed to go on forever.
"All of this," she said, "represents just a fraction of my resources. Power isn't just about mutation, darling. It's about infrastructure, connections, the ability to make things happen. The resources to, say, arrange discrete travel to China for someone seeking ancient warriors who may or may not exist."
"Subtle."
"I don't do subtle. I do effective."
Turbulence rocked the plane, and Emma steadied herself with a hand on my chest. She left it there longer than physics required.
"Strong heartbeat," she murmured. "Steady. I like that in a man."
"Just my heartbeat?"
"Fishing for compliments? How delightfully young of you."
I ignored her next. Then I tried another breathing exercise, mostly to distract myself from how warm her hand felt through my shirt.
Women like her were used to and bored of seeing immediate results. If I wanted to subdue a player of her level, I'd have to borrow some skills from my past life.
Attraction was a game, believe it or not, and only the patient could win it.
This time, I managed the full count without gasping, though that warm static feeling remained frustratingly elusive.
"You're overthinking it," Emma observed. "Real power comes from acceptance, not force. Stop trying to grab it and let it flow through you."
"Speaking from experience with your telepathy?"
"Speaking from experience with everything, darling."
The Academy came into full view as we descended. It looked like someone had transplanted Oxford into Massachusetts and given it a multi-billion dollar upgrade. Crazy to look at. Ancient architecture mixed with cutting-edge technology, tradition merged with innovation.
"After witnessing your performance at Genosha," Emma said, her tone shifting to something more serious, "I've been reassessing alliances. The old power structures are crumbling. Smart people position themselves accordingly."
"And you're positioning yourself with me, Miss Frost?"
"...I'm positioning myself where I can appreciate the view." Her eyes traveled over me in a way that made her meaning crystal clear. "Among other benefits."
The landing was smooth as silk, barely noticeable except for the change in engine pitch. Emma stood, somehow making the simple act look like a dance.
"Welcome to my domain, Benjamin Tennyson. I think you'll find it has everything you need. Even hotties."
She paused at the cabin door, looking back with an expression that promised nothing and everything at once.
"My suite is just down the hall from your quarters. Should you need anything. And I mean anything at all."
The Cuckoos reappeared to prepare for disembarkation, and I caught another whisper of telepathic communication.
Mother's actually interested in this one, I think. What do you guys say??
It's been years since she looked at anyone like that. When was the last time?
Ten dollars says she has him in her bed within a week. Poor boy…
Emma's expression suggested she'd heard that too, but her smile just widened.
The Massachusetts Academy sprawled before us like a promise of power and possibility. Emma had shown her hand – resources beyond imagination, connections that spanned the globe, and personal interest that went far beyond political advantage.
As I followed her onto the tarmac, Emma already arranging my China expedition with a few quick calls that made the impossible seem trivial, I realized something.
Emma Frost didn't just want me as an ally. She wanted me whole.
The question was. How much was I going to let her take?
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