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Chapter 26: Novice Trickster +2
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"Your anger will not make things easier. Find us high-value mutants, and the deal shall proceed... You will have your sentinels."
The silence from Fury's end was profound, a void of sheer, horrified comprehension.
Adam, the picture of curiosity, broke it. "Director? What are the Sentinels? I'm curious."
Fury's voice was gravelly, stripped of its usual bravado. "I'll… investigate. We're done here." The line went dead.
On his end, in a secure S.H.I.E.L.D. bunker, Nick Fury felt a phantom itch on his scalp.
If I had any hair left, it would be falling out right now, he thought with grim temper.
He understood why Adam lost trust in him, or rather, anyone. He found the same things he did, Hydra's horrifying influence and infiltration of the government.
No, Fury knows things are even worse than Adam realizes. Hydra has infiltrated Shield; he wasn't sure how deep the infiltration went, and that was the problem.
However, he finds it hard to believe that the infiltration would be deep; he was assuming it was just surface-level employees, but his paranoia was ticking; it was fucking ringing!!
[It should be fucking singing the opera!]
[He has no idea, lol.]
[Hydra is deep, like deep as in entered through the mouth and reached the other hole.]
[What in the actual fuck is that description?]
Fury never once doubted the recording's authenticity.
It was all falling into a horrifying, logical place. Why wouldn't Hydra infiltrate the M.R.D.?
Why wouldn't they trade captured mutants for the ultimate mutant-hunting weapon?
Why wouldn't Hydra do anything? You could tell him Hydra is planning wide multiversal destruction, and he would believe it because it's fucking Hydra.
The most pressing matter is that those bastards are actually planning to trade with Hydra! Giving them weapons of mass destruction.
Sure, he had heard of the Sentinel project, and he knew it's nowhere near ready, but... What the fuck!!!
Back in his infirmary bed, Adam set the phone down and let his head fall back against the pillow. An unrestrained, exulting smile spread across his face.
+1 Novice Trickster.
The recording was a masterpiece of forgery.
Using the vocal print he'd stolen from the late Chief Hendricks and Forge's unparalleled technology, he had fabricated the entire conversation from whole cloth.
He had no concrete proof that Hydra was involved with the M.R.D. or the Sentinels.
He didn't need any.
This was Hydra. You could blame them for a bad hair day, and half the intelligence community would believe it.
With one expertly crafted lie, he had thrown a lit match into a powder keg.
He had sicced a paranoid Nick Fury and the might of S.H.I.E.L.D. on Hydra, the M.R.D., and Trask Industries simultaneously.
He had turned his three most formidable future enemies against each other before they even knew he was a threat.
[He framed Hydra for something they might not have even done!]
[This is the most beautiful, diabolical thing I've ever seen.]
[He's not a hero or a villain. He's an agent of the glorious chaos.]
[Actual Master of Throwing Other People Under The Bus.]
He closed his eyes, basking in the sunlight and the sweet, sweet sound of dominoes falling exactly where he had pushed them.
It was, without a doubt, a very good day.
The gardens of the Xavier Institute were a sanctuary of manicured lawns and vibrant flowerbeds, but today, a different kind of growth was taking root.
At the center of a gently sloping lawn, Adam Cypher sat cross-legged on a stone bench, a picture of tranquility.
A leather-bound book rested in his lap, and he occasionally took a slow, deliberate sip from a delicate cup of tea.
The book wasn't anything special, it's just weird, and he was trying to see if he could stumble upon magic through it, cause why the fuck not?
In Marvel, weird books and artifacts were the shortcut to power... And death... The book was interesting, though.
Surrounding him, scattered across the grass like students before a revered teacher, was a gathering of young mutants.
Anna, aka Rogue, was kind of focused. Several potted plants, ranging from a delicate orchid to a hardy succulent, were arranged before her.
She would reach out a gloved hand, her brow furrowed in concentration, her fingertips barely brushing a leaf.
Sometimes, the plant would shudder, its color degrading, but still hang onto life.
Other times, the leaf would instantly wither, turning brown and crinkling to dust.
A small, pained frown would touch her lips with each failure.
Adam's suggestion had been so simple yet unique. "Your power absorbs life force,"
He'd said. "Plants have life force, but it's insignificant. Use them to find the threshold between touch and theft. It shouldn't be difficult to learn to control your power this way."
Anna had been awestruck by the sheer, obvious logic of it, and the way she looked at him now held a reverence that bordered on obsession.
She was constantly peeking to gauge his reaction, which only disrupted her focus further.
It was annoying Adam to no end that he was the reason for her progress and loss of focus at the same time.
[Why didn't ANYONE think of this before?! It's so obvious!]
[It does make sense.]
[It's such a genius non-genius idea, best way to describe it, I think.]
[Rogue's training arc.]
[She's got it bad for the sensei.]
Nearby, John Allerdyce, aka, Pyro, was a study in frustrated determination.
Two tiny, molten orbs of fire, no larger than marbles, danced in the air above his palms.
His face was slick with sweat as he tried to compress them further, to make them denser.
One orb flickered and died. He cursed under his breath and reignited it.
Adam's assignment for him was brutally simple: master how to handle two balls before even thinking of a third.
Bobby Drake was sculpting a complex rose out of ice, his tongue stuck out in concentration.
Other students had their own tailored exercises: a boy who could vibrate was practicing by holding a glass of water without creating ripples.
It sounds like a power with potential, but unfortunately, he's a very low-level mutant, and he can't vibrate much.
[Damn, a living vibrator.]
Then there was a girl who could generate light and was trying to focus it into a coherent, needle-thin laser.
Adam observed it all with a placid smile. This was what he called "building connections."
In the month since the M.R.D. incident, a profound mental shift had left him radiating a tranquil, gentle charisma that drew people in.
He was a calm port in a world of stormy powers, and his simple, imaginative suggestions were yielding remarkable results.
[He's literally running a mutant self-help group.]
[The Adam Cypher School for Gifted Youngsters.]
[He's so chill now it's almost scary. What is he planning?]
Jean Grey found him there, her arms crossed as she took in the bizarre, peaceful scene. "Playing professor?" She asked, a teasing smile on her lips as she sat beside him.
"It's a tough job, but someone has to do it," Adam replied, closing his book. "The pay is terrible, but the company is excellent."
They fell into an easy banter, a comfortable rhythm they had developed over weeks of proximity.
After a few minutes, Jean nudged him playfully. "So, when do I get my personalized training regimen, oh wise one? Or am I a lost cause?"
Adam shrugged, his gaze thoughtful. "I already gave you your assignment, Jean. You just haven't completed it."
She looked puzzled. "You have? When?"
"Confidence," He said simply. "When I look at you, I see a cosmic force of nature constrained by self-doubt. You're like a star that's afraid of its own light."
"The day you stop being Jean Grey, the worried telepath, and start being Jean Grey, the omega-level mutant who knows her own worth, is the day you'll truly shine. That's your homework."
"I mean, you're a redhead, it's your job to shine, and you're failing it spectacularly."
The answer was surprisingly serious without a hint of teasing.
Jean fell silent, the playful mood evaporating. He had, as he often did, cut directly to the heart of her deepest insecurity.
"You have a real knack for flirting by psychoanalyzing people, you know that?" She deflected, uncomfortable with the direct hit.
Adam raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "Was that flirting? I suppose it was." He sighed dramatically. "I'll just blame it on the hair. Why did you have to be a redhead? That's kind of my thing."
She giggled despite herself, the tension broken. "I don't get you, Adam. You can be so… Infuriatingly perceptive one second, and so ridiculously weird the next."
Adam honestly said, "I'm just used to entertaining an audience."
[That's us!!]
[Definitely us!]
[The psychos at Illuminati are fantasizing again.]
[Dude, it's just roleplay, just fun and giggles, it's not like they actually believe he sees them.]
[We fucking do, dumbass.]
[We believe.] [+1] [+1] [I believe!]
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