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Marvel's Omnitrix - Chapter 105
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 12:48:54 +0000 UTCChapter 105: The Ceremony
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I stood before the mirror in my guest quarters, tugging at the collar of a pristine white suit that felt more like a straitjacket than formal wear. The fabric was some Genoshan blend that adjusted its temperature automatically, which should have been comfortable but instead made me hyperaware of every movement.
"Stop fidgeting," Gwen commanded, circling me like a predator sizing up prey. Her emerald dress caught the morning light filtering through the gravity-defying water features that served as windows. "You look almost respectable for once."
"I look like I'm about to get married or buried," I muttered, watching our reflections. The contrast was striking – my reluctant formality against her natural elegance. "Maybe both."
She smacked my shoulder. "Drama queen. It's just a ceremony."
Just a ceremony. If only she knew what I knew. Well she knew from my words, but she didn’t understand the lethality of it. The weight of what’s coming tonight pressed against my chest, making each breath feel stolen from a future that might not exist.
My mind drifted to the dinner from two nights ago, to the way Magneto had studied me like a puzzle with missing pieces. Shaw's predatory interest. Emma's calculated intrusions. Rogue’s lonely defiance. Each interaction was like a move on an invisible chessboard where I couldn't see half the pieces.
"You're doing it again," Gwen said, fixing my tie with practiced efficiency. "That thousand-yard stare thing. Don’t be so worried Ben, aren’t I here?"
Gwen. Probably the only person whom I can guarantee will survive this, given her heritage. I wanted to hold her waist and ruin her makeup, but that was when the door opened, and Grandpa Max entered.
I looked at him in surprise. He wore his full Plumber dress uniform – deep blue with silver trim, medals, and commendations from a dozen different worlds adorning his chest. I'd seen photos, heard stories, but witnessing Maxwell Tennyson in his official capacity hit differently. This wasn't my Hawaiian-shirt-wearing grandfather. This was Magistrate Tennyson, protector of Sector 2814.
"Grandpa..." I started, then stopped. What could I say? You look ready for war? This might be our last peaceful morning?
He read something in my expression and crossed the room, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Whatever happens today, Ben, remember – we adapt. We survive. We protect those who can't protect themselves."
The unspoken acknowledgment hung between us. He knew something was coming and was ready for it, even if he didn't have my specific foreknowledge.
He tapped a button on his suit, and all of that condensed into a single point, inside a button on his shirt. Now he looked ready for a party.
"The ceremony starts in an hour," he said, voice shifting back to casual grandfather mode. "The nain plaza, which is an elevated platform for dignitaries. Three exit routes – north through the gardens, south via the transit tunnels, and emergency vertical evacuation courtesy of Storm if needed."
He was giving me escape routes. Cataloging them like a soldier preparing for retreat before the battle even started. I appreciated all that.
A knock interrupted the somber moment. Madelyne entered, and I welcomed her with a smile. “Sup? Looking good.”
She'd chosen a black dress with subtle red accents that seemed to shift and move like living flame when caught in certain light. Her makeup was dramatic, red lipstick making her skin appear almost luminescent. But it was the small details that concerned me – the way shadows gathered slightly deeper around her, how the metallic fixtures in the room resonated faintly with her presence.
"The Phoenix is restless," she said without preamble. "It keeps showing me... fragments. Screaming. Fire. Metal raining from above."
Gwen and Grandpa exchanged worried glances, but I stepped forward, taking Madelyne's hands. They were cold, trembling slightly.
"We'll handle whatever comes," I promised, though the words felt hollow even to me.
She searched my eyes, and for a moment I saw not Madelyne Pryor but something ancient and terrible looking back at me. Then she blinked and was herself again, vulnerable and afraid.
"I should sit this out," she said. "If I lose control during a crisis–"
"You won't," Gwen interrupted, surprising us both. "Because we won't let you. Treat us like family, will you? Family doesn’t leave during a crisis."
The word 'family' from her was unexpected and powerful. Madelyne's eyes glistened, and she pulled both of us into a brief, fierce hug.
"Save the sentiment for after," Grandpa said, though his voice was warm. "Time to play our parts."
As we prepared to leave, a presence brushed against my mind. Not invasive, more like knocking on a door. I allowed the Omnitrix to let it in.
"My, don't you clean up nicely, Mr. Tennyson. Where are you? The party feels dry without you..."
Emma Frost. Her mental voice was silk wrapped around steel, promising pleasure and threat in equal measure.
Somehow amid all this, I had to care about her games too. Ugh. Time to dance with the White Queen.
****
The courtyard sprawled beneath Genosha's impossible sky.
Weather-manipulating mutants had crafted perfect cumulus clouds that never quite blocked the sun. Hovering refreshment tables drifted between guests like elegant metal jellyfish, their surfaces rippling to accommodate whatever anyone reached for.
I stood between Gwen and Grandpa Max, watching delegates from fifty nations mingle with mutants whose very existence would have caused panic in their home countries. The irony wasn't lost on me.
"That's the Secretary-General," Grandpa murmured, nodding toward a severe woman in a grey suit. "And beside her, the Wakandan ambassador. Interesting that King T'Challa sent someone."
“Wakanda? Isn’t that a poor country? What’s interesting?” Gwen asked, while I was surprised, Grandpa knew King T'Challa. Black Panther.
Before he could respond, an orchestra began playing – except the instruments floated independently, controlled by a young woman whose fingers danced through the air like a conductor wrestling with invisible threads. The melody was hopeful, almost achingly beautiful.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Magneto's voice carried across the plaza without amplification, his mastery of magnetic fields allowing perfect acoustic control. "Today, we celebrate not just a nation, but an idea made manifest."
The crowd quieted, drawn to him like iron filings to a magnet. He stood on the elevated platform in a suit that managed to look both stately and battle-ready, the purple and red somehow working despite everything.
"Ben! Gwen~!" Jubilee appeared at my elbow, practically vibrating with excitement. Her yellow jacket stood out like a sunburst among the formal wear. "Come on, there's a demonstration area showing off Genoshan tech! They've got these bikes that respond to thought and–"
"Maybe later," I said, distracted by the way the crowd was thickening, making it harder to track potential threats.
"Your loss, broody," she shrugged, grabbing Gwen's hand instead. "Come on, at least you'll appreciate genius when you see it."
Gwen glanced at me, clearly torn between staying and her genuine interest in the technology. "Go," I said. "I'll catch up."
As they disappeared into the crowd, I found myself momentarily alone. Well, as alone as you could be surrounded by hundreds of people. I drifted toward one of the floating tables, picking up something that looked like a cross between a pastry and a flower.
"Trying local flavors, Mr. Tennyson?" The voice was honey poured over broken glass. "I could offer you something... more refined."
Emma Frost materialized beside me, having walked so quietly that I hadn't noticed. For once, she didn’t wear white.
Her dress was black with white fur at the edges, elegant and dangerous at the same time. It clung in all the right places, daring anyone to look away, but carried itself with the kind of class that made you wonder if you were the one being judged. When she shifted, the fabric moved as if it had a mind of its own, revealing her single thigh to the world. Scandal and royalty stitched into one. She wore black lipstick and dark mascara, and somehow her hair had grown slightly longer overnight, reaching her shoulders.
"Ms. Frost," I acknowledged, trying to ignore how her perfume made my head swim slightly. "Is that a wig?
She looked offended. “Hah? Of course not. This is the nation of mutants, Ben. Many mutant barbers can grow hair, although their fees are beyond anything normal people can handle. This is all natural. Do you like my longer hair?”
I ignored her probe and asked, “Enjoying the celebration?"
"Oh, immensely." She took a sip, leaving a faint lipstick mark on the crystal. "Though I find the company more interesting than the pageantry. Tell me, what does someone with your unique perspective make of all this?"
Before I could answer, a deck of cards appeared between us, fanned perfectly despite no one holding them.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone play?"
Remy LeBeau – Gambit – grinned at us with the confidence of someone who'd never met a situation he couldn't charm his way out of. His red-on-black eyes danced with mischief as the cards performed impossible feats, shuffling themselves in midair.
Emma's expression could have frozen hell. She introduced him to me by the gesture of her hand, "Remy LeBeau. Talented thief, unreliable ally."
He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "The White Queen remembers me! I'm touched, chérie. Though 'unreliable' seems harsh, non?"
"Unreliable?" I interjected, remembering everything I knew about the Cajun mutant from my past life. "He's probably the most reliable person you could have watching your back. Just ask anyone from the Thieves Guild... oh wait, you can't. He chose exile over assassinating someone he loved."
Gambit's eyebrows shot up, the cards freezing mid-shuffle. Then he burst out laughing, a rich sound that drew curious glances.
"Mon Dieu! The boy knows things he shouldn't!" He flicked a card toward me – the King of Hearts. "I like you already, homme. You see past the surface, that's rare."
Emma's grip on her glass tightened imperceptibly. "How fascinating. And here I thought you were just another pretty face with an alien watch."
Across the courtyard, I caught sight of Anna Marie watching us. I waved, and she raised her glass slightly in acknowledgment, though something in her expression suggested she wasn't thrilled about the company I was keeping. It was natural to dislike Emma.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Magneto's voice, which had been going on for the last few minutes rang out louder this time. "Today marks not an ending, but a beginning. Today, Genosha opens its doors to the world! Today we celebrate!"
The music changed. New music erupted from the floating orchestra.
“Laudate omnes gentes laudate
Magnificat in secula
Et anima mea laudate
Magnificat in secula…”
It was "Happy Nation" by Ace of Base. The same song that played during the X-Men ‘97 TV Show. It was prophetic in its irony. The crowd cheered, delegates applauded, and mutant children released butterflies made of living light into the air.
Emma used the distraction to slip her arm through mine. "Dance with me."
It wasn't a request.
The music shifted to something slower, more intimate, as she led me to the area that had been cleared for dancing. Other couples were already moving, but they parted for the White Queen like water.
"I don't really dance," I protested even as she positioned my hands with practiced efficiency.
"Liar, liar," she murmured, pressing closer than strictly necessary. "Your body knows exactly how to move. That watch of yours doesn't just give you alien forms, does it? It enhances everything about you."
She wasn't wrong. But it was my wolf transformation that had given me this body. Semantics. I could probably dance without embarrassing myself.
“Happy nation, living in a happy nation…
Where the people understand and dream of perfect man…”
The song continued. We moved together, and I became hyperaware of everything – her warmth, the way her dress whispered against my suit, how her telepathy created a faint tingle at the edge of my consciousness like static electricity. The crowd watched us, some with interest, others with concern. The mysterious newcomer dancing with one of the most dangerous women in the world.
"You're scared," she said quietly, for my ears only. "Not of me, not of this. Of what is coming. Do you really believe it’ll happen? Your reaction shows far more than a simple investigation by a newbie PI."
I met her ice-blue eyes, seeing past the calculated seduction to something deeper. Fear. Emma Frost was afraid too.
"Midnight will come whether we're ready or not," I said, spinning her elegantly. "For now, we dance."
Her laugh was genuine surprise. "How unexpectedly philosophical."
As the music swelled, I let myself relax for just a moment, appreciating the absurdity of it all. Here I was, slow-dancing with Emma Frost while a genocide clock ticked down in my head. My hand lowered, squeezing her ass, and she smirked. Her breasts pressed against me, soft and warm despite her diamond-hard reputation.
For just this instant, I could pretend we were just two people moving to music.
But the weight of the coming hours wouldn't leave me alone. Even as Emma smiled, even as the crowd celebrated, even as Genosha showed its best face to the world, I could feel it approaching like storm clouds on the horizon.
The ceremony was beautiful.
The ceremony was a lie.
“For the people, for the good. For mankind, brotherhood.”
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Author Note: People who’ve read Eternal Samsara know I love this song, and unexpectedly, it was used in the X-Men ‘97 show too. No way I’m not using it.
These chapters have been veryyyyyyyyyyyyy fun to write!!! Two more chapters, or THREE, are dropping in 3 hours. Today's a feast, enjoy guys!!
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Seriously awesome
