Frost International Tower – Penthouse, Night
The sky outside was dark and moody, scattered with lightning in the distance. High above the city skyline, the Frost International Tower gleamed like a silver dagger piercing the heavens. Inside the penthouse, it was quiet save for the gentle hum of the television.
The room was minimalist elegance—white leather couches, glass tables, sleek floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. In front of the massive OLED screen, Stephen Lance Carter sat on a couch, dressed in a black dress shirt, the top buttons undone, his hair still damp from an earlier flight through a thunderstorm.
Beside him, barefoot in a silk robe of icy silver, was Emma Frost, a glass of wine untouched in her hand. Her long platinum hair cascaded over her shoulders like moonlight. Her gaze, however, was locked on the television.
On TV — The World Watches a Superman Ascend
TV Narrator (male, calm, reverent):
"They say comic book gods belong in fiction. That men cannot fly, cannot bend steel, cannot shield the world with bare hands…"
Kansas
A monstrous EF5 tornado howled across open farmland. Screaming families fled in trucks. At the heart of the storm, Lance floated mid-air in his black and silver suit, eyes glowing blue. With arms outstretched, he counter-spun the winds using a vortex of controlled chi. Lightning cracked behind him. The tornado dispersed into clouds.
American Skies
An airliner plummeted from 30,000 feet, both engines gone. Screams inside the cabin. Just as the ground loomed, Lance streaked across the sky like a missile. He caught the fuselage under the nose with both hands, his boots grinding across a highway until the plane slowed, smoke billowing around him.
California Wildfire
Flames danced across the pine forests, fire engines trapped. Lance landed, eyes narrowing. With a massive shockwave of frigid chi, he extinguished a square mile in seconds. Firefighters stood frozen in awe.
Chicago, Illinois
A skyscraper roared with flames. Civilians screamed from the upper floors. Lance dove into the inferno, emerging through the collapsing front doors carrying a soot-covered child in one arm and an unconscious mother in the other. As he landed, kneeling on cracked pavement, dozens of hands reached out from the crowd—men, women, children—like worshippers before a god.
The music swelled. Rain began to fall.
Fox News Panel
One host looked stunned.
Fox Anchor: "Are we witnessing the birth of a real-life Superman? Or the rise of something more dangerous than any one nation should control?"
Neil deGrasse Tyson, CNN
"This is myth, modernized. Every civilization creates its own pantheon. But this time, our god has a military rank, a voting public, and the nuclear codes. That changes everything."
Back to Frost Penthouse – Silence
Emma set the remote down, then looked at Lance, her voice like silk—but quivering.
Emma: "You've changed how the world sees reality. My god, Stephen... they're calling you the messiah."
Lance's expression was unreadable.
Lance (quietly): "I should thank you. I know you pulled strings—swayed networks, tuned the narrative. You've always had the reach to do that."
Emma shook her head, setting her wine aside.
Emma: "No. That's not why they believe in you. You're not a puppet I spin stories for. They've always loved you, Lance. Even before the cape. You won the presidency in a landslide. Remember that?"
He blinked slowly. He did remember—but hearing it now, so plainly, hit differently.
Emma stood, crossed the distance between them, and slowly climbed into his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Her voice turned soft, fragile.
Emma: "But I almost lost you…"
Her hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. Her eyes glassy.
Emma: "That day Magneto strapped you into that machine—I was in a boardroom in Tokyo. I saw the footage on a secure feed, watched you scream, watched the light leave your body. I thought you were dying. And I felt like the universe was tearing in half."
Lance inhaled deeply, his hands settling instinctively on her hips.
Lance: "Emma…"
Emma: "You saved me once. You don't remember, but I do."
FLASHBACK – 1996: Underground Research Lab, Greenland
It was cold. Sterile. Echoes of screams still haunted the corners.
Emma (16) and Kayla Silverfox (15) were locked in separate glass containment pods, wires digging into their arms. They were test subjects—telepaths to be broken and sold.
The doors exploded inward. Smoke. Gunfire.
A young Stephen Lance Carter, only 33 at the time and a rising black-ops commander, strode in, armored in black and fury. His soldiers executed the guards with precision. Lance moved to Emma's pod and punched in override codes.
The glass lifted.
Emma collapsed into his arms, shaking.
Emma (young, whispering): "Why... why are you helping us?"
Lance (calm, reassuring): "Because no one else ever did."
He carried her out like she weighed nothing.
BACK TO PRESENT
Emma exhaled a shaky breath, still sitting in his lap.
Emma: "You gave me a second chance. You helped me build Frost International, let me use your networks, your capital. I became who I am because of you."
Her lips hovered inches from his.
Emma (voice cracking): "I've loved you for half my life. I don't care what they say. You're mine. You always were."
She kissed him then—not soft, not hesitant, but desperate. A woman obsessed. A woman afraid to lose the only man who ever saw her, ever saved her.
Lance returned the kiss, deep and slow, but his thoughts drifted...
To the day he found her. To the weight of saving lives. To the coming storm the world hadn't yet seen.
And to the dozen daughters—each with their own emotions simmering in the shadows of his godhood.
But right now—Emma trembled in his arms, breath hot against his lips.
And the world outside kept watching.