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Marvel's Omnitrix - Chapter 112
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 14:56:51 +0000 UTCChapter 112: The Economic and Political State of the World
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The conference hall felt different in daylight. Yesterday's ruined had been transformed into something that screamed "serious diplomatic meeting."
The floating candelabras were gone, replaced by harsh fluorescent panels that made everyone look slightly ill. Metal chairs arranged in perfect rows faced a raised platform where Magneto's throne had been swapped for a utilitarian conference table.
I tugged at my collar, regretting the formal shirt Grandpa had insisted on. The fabric felt like sandpaper against skin still sensitive from yesterday's temporal displacement. Every nerve ending seemed hyperaware, like my body was still figuring out which timeline it belonged to.
At least the pants fit this time.
The thought died as I stepped through the doorway and saw a Living Legend.
He was sitting at the conference table like it was the most natural thing in the world. His shield rested against his chair, catching the light in a way that made the metal sing with barely contained energy. The Super Soldier Serum had given him a physique that made statues weep with envy, but it was his presence that hit hardest. This was a man who'd punched Hitler in the face and meant it.
Steve Rogers. Captain America. The Star-Spangled Man himself.
Holy shit. He's already out of the ice?
I was never a fanboy, but he was a boring character written damn well. This was the Captain America, the moral compass of the Marvel Universe, the guy who could make "Language!" sound like a battle cry. And he was sitting ten feet away, reviewing documents with the focused intensity of someone preparing for war.
"Ben!" A voice like honey poured over broken glass interrupted my starstruck moment. "There you are, darling."
Emma Frost materialized from wherever she'd been lurking, and before I could react, pulled me into an embrace that was anything but professional. She smelled like winter roses and danger, her body pressed against mine in ways that made several officials clear their throats uncomfortably.
"My boy," she murmured loud enough for everyone to hear, her lips brushing my ear. Then, telepathically she sent a message which I permitted Omnitrix to let in. Why that face? Let them wonder about your allies, darling. Confusion is a weapon.
Captain Rogers looked up from his documents, blue eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. His gaze traveled from Emma's possessive hold to my face, assessing with the tactical precision of someone who'd survived World War II.
"Who's the young man?" His voice carried that specific brand of Brooklyn confidence that had rallied troops across Europe. "And is it wise to have him in a meeting of this magnitude?"
Magneto, seated at the head of the table in a suit that somehow made him look more dangerous than his full armor, smiled thinly. "That, Captain, is Benjamin Tennyson. He's someone very important."
The way he said 'important' made it sound like a threat and a promise wrapped in velvet. Rogers' eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded, accepting the non-answer with military grace.
That's when I noticed the hologram.
Nick Fury flickered at the far end of the table, his projection crisp enough that I could count the stitches on his eyepatch. The Director of SHIELD looked like he'd aged a decade in the last forty-eight hours, and his single eye kept sliding toward me with the intensity of a predator sizing up prey.
"Magister Tennyson," Fury's voice cut through the tension like a plasma knife. His hologram turned to face Grandpa Max directly. "Is your grandson..."
"I will not be answering that. And I hope you won't dwell on this subject, Fury." Grandpa's interruption was smooth as aged whiskey. "For old time's sake."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
These two had history, layers of it, probably involving things that would never see declassification. Fury's jaw worked like he was chewing glass, but eventually he sighed, the sound carrying across continents through the holographic projection.
"Fine. But we're going to talk about this later, Max. Count on it."
“All old men know each other,” Emma's hand found my arm, guiding me to a seat with the practiced ease of someone who'd navigated a thousand political minefields. She settled beside me, close enough that our thighs touched, and I caught Rogers watching the interaction with poorly concealed concern.
He thinks she's manipulating the naive kid, Emma's voice whispered through my thoughts. How adorable. As if you were that easy to manipulate.
Storm called the meeting to order, her white hair crackling with subtle electricity that made the overhead lights flicker. "We're here to discuss the international response to the Genosha incident and establish protocols moving forward."
Xavier, positioned directly across from Magneto in what had to be deliberate symbolism, cleared his throat. "The world has questions. About the attack, about the resurrection, and about what this means for mutant-human relations."
"The world can choke on its questions," Magneto replied pleasantly. "They tried to exterminate us. The fact that we're having this conversation instead of watching their cities burn is a courtesy they don't deserve."
"Erik," Xavier's voice held decades of patient frustration.
"Charles," Magneto mimicked the tone perfectly.
Captain Rogers shifted forward, hands clasped on the table in that way people did when they were trying very hard not to punch someone. "With respect, we need to focus on facts here. Someone coordinated this attack. Someone with resources, intelligence, and technology beyond what any single government should possess."
Beast limped forward, his blue fur still showing patches where it hadn't fully grown back from yesterday's burns. He activated a holographic display that made everyone lean forward.
"The Sentinels utilized adaptive nanotechnology integrated with learning algorithms that border on true AI," he explained, adjusting his glasses that somehow stayed on despite his transformed features. "The energy signatures match theoretical weapons that shouldn't exist for another decade."
"Unless someone had help," Cyclops added from his position by the door, acting as security despite his obvious exhaustion. "Alien technology, perhaps. Or time-displaced."
Emma's fingers drummed against my thigh, a gesture hidden by the table but hard to ignore. Ugh, men and politics. Who thought to mix these two? Do you see it? They're dancing around it, her mental voice carried amusement. None of them want to say what they're thinking.
Which is?
That humanity has been preparing for war longer than anyone suspected. That this wasn't a sudden decision but the culmination of years of planning.
The UN representative, a blonde woman whose perfectly styled hair somehow survived Genosha's ash-filled air, cleared her throat. "The international community is prepared to offer reparations. Financial support for rebuilding, medical aid, diplomatic recognition of Genosha's sovereignty."
"How generous," Emma said aloud, her voice dripping sarcasm. "Money to rebuild the paradise you burned. I'm sure the four million who died yesterday are deeply grateful for your checkbook."
"They didn't die," the representative countered, though her voice shook slightly. "Thanks to the intervention of the... the Temporal Machine God mutant."
That's what they were calling Clockwork. The Temporal Machine God. That name was popularized by 4Chan. I saw the chats, and somehow it made it into the real world. A complete violation of everything humans thought possible.
“Ah, yes.” Rogers leaned forward again, that earnest intensity that had sold war bonds now focused entirely on the conversation. "About this individual. I'd like to meet them. To thank them personally, and perhaps discuss how their abilities might help prevent future tragedies."
Magneto's smile could have frozen hell. "I'm certain they have no interest in becoming a government asset, Captain."
"That's not what I meant..."
"Isn't it?" Emma interrupted, and I felt her power flex, not reading minds but letting everyone know she could. "You want to recruit them. Turn them into another asset for whatever shadow organization you're building."
Rogers' jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Fury's hologram crackled.
"The mutant is right here somewhere, isn't he?" Fury's eye fixed on me with laser intensity. "The Time Mutant. I have a feeling he’s eavesdropping as we speak."
The room went silent except for the hum of electronics. Everyone who didn’t know the truth looked around while Fury glanced at me in a barely noticeable way. I felt Emma's hand tighten on my arm.
Say nothing, she advised. Let them wonder.
Maybe you guys shouldn’t have called me here, then? I countered.
"Director Fury," Grandpa Max's voice could have cut diamond. "You're speculating."
"Am I?" Fury leaned forward, his hologram flickering with the intensity of his focus. "Strange how my decades of experience as a spy tell me otherwise."
I met his gaze steadily, letting him see nothing but a kid in an uncomfortable shirt trying to follow a conversation beyond his understanding. It was a mask I'd perfected, the harmless teenager who just happened to have a weird watch.
Rogers was an idealistic man, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed who Fury meant by those words. He studied me with those impossible blue eyes, and I saw the moment he dismissed Fury's theory. To him, I was just a kid, maybe enhanced, maybe important to Magneto for political reasons, but not the entity that had reversed death itself.
Beautiful, Emma's approval washed through my mind like silk. You play the innocent so well. Mhm, that’s so adorable…
“....”
The conversation shifted to logistics. Reconstruction efforts, security protocols, diplomatic channels. Important stuff that mostly went over my head while I sat there being furniture. Emma provided running commentary, her mental voice a mixture of political insight and increasingly personal observations.
Notice how Rogers keeps checking his watch? He has somewhere else to be. I wonder what has Captain America so busy in a world where wars have died…
The UN representative is lying about the reparations. The number she's offering is a tenth of what they've allocated.
Your grandfather is armed with at least three weapons I can sense, and probably more I can't.
You smell nice today. Did you use a different soap?
That last one made me shift uncomfortably, which she noticed with a small smile.
"Perhaps," Captain Rogers said during a lull in negotiations, "we should discuss the elephant in the room. The fact that humanity now knows death can be reversed."
The temperature dropped again. This was the real issue, the thing that had governments panicking across the globe.
"It can't be done like that," Magneto said firmly. "What happened yesterday was unique. The… Temporal Machine God saved those people in the moment, but they can't bring back everyone who's ever died."
"How do you know?" The UN representative's mask slipped, showing the desperation underneath. "How can you be certain?"
"Because if they could," Xavier said quietly, "they would have already done so. The fact that they haven't suggests limitations."
Emma laughed, the sound like crystal breaking. "Or perhaps they simply choose not to. Power doesn't obligate usage, despite what some might believe." She looked directly at Fury when she said it.
Grandpa Max had been silent for most of the meeting, but now he leaned forward. "The Plumbers have seen this before. Civilizations that discover resurrection technology, time manipulation, death reversal. It never ends well."
"What happens?" Cyclops asked.
"War," Max said simply. "Always war. Those with access to the technology become gods. Those without become desperate. The natural order collapses, and eventually, someone or something steps in to restore balance."
"Someone like who?" Rogers asked.
Max's expression went carefully blank. "Entities you don't want to meet, Captain. Forces that make the Sentinels look like toys."
The meeting continued for another hour, but my mind wandered.
Emma's commentary became background noise as I thought about what Grandpa had said. Entities that policed death itself. I knew who he meant, even if he probably meant someone like Vilgax.
Lady Death. The Mad Titan's obsession. The one who'd probably noticed when I yanked four million souls out of her grasp.
You're worried, Emma observed, her mental touch surprisingly gentle. She couldn’t read my mind beyond sending messages, but she could see through my eyes. Your mind is racing with possibilities, most of them dark.
Wouldn't you be?
Perhaps. But I find your concern for consequences refreshing. Most men with your power would be drunk on it by now.
As if to emphasize her point, she shifted closer, her breath warm against my ear as she pretended to point something out in the documents before us. The gesture drew a frown from Magneto, who'd been watching our interaction with increasing displeasure.
"I'm certain Benjamin prefers younger company, Emma," he said abruptly, cutting through someone's presentation about medical aid. "You should have some shame."
The room went silent.
Emma raised one perfect eyebrow, her hand still resting on my arm. "Hmm… It’s interesting you say that. What are you planning, Magneto?"
The Master of Magnetism smiled, and metal throughout the room hummed in response. "Planning? I'm simply noting that Benjamin is eighteen, while you're..."
"Careful," Emma's voice could have frozen the sun. "Age is such a fluid concept among our kind, wouldn't you agree? After all, Benjamin has shown wisdom beyond his years."
She turned to me, ice-blue eyes holding mine with an intensity that made me wonder what those eyes would look like under me. "Haven't you, darling?"
Before I could answer, Captain Rogers stood, clearly having reached his limit for whatever this was.
"I think we've covered the essential points," he said with crisp military efficiency. "The UN will provide the promised aid, SHIELD will investigate the attack's origins, and Genosha will coordinate with international security to prevent future incidents."
"How efficiently summarized," Magneto drawled, but he stood as well, the meeting clearly ending.
As people began filing out, Rogers approached me directly. Up close, he was even more impressive, carrying himself with the easy confidence of someone who'd earned every accolade through blood and sacrifice.
"Mr. Tennyson," he extended his hand, and I shook it. Which was quite the crazy thing, if you thought about it. "I wanted to thank you."
"For what?"
His smile was surprisingly warm. "For being here. For standing with these people when they needed it. Your grandfather speaks highly of you."
"He does?"
"Haha, somehow Max and I go way back," Rogers said, and there were volumes of untold stories in those words. "He says you're going to change the world. After what I've seen of him, I believe him."
He retrieved his shield, the metal singing as he lifted it, and headed for the door. But he paused at the threshold, looking back.
"When you meet the time mutant," he said, and I swear there was a knowing look in his eyes, "tell them I said thank you. And that if they ever need anything, Captain America owes them a debt. For saving a nation."
Then he was gone, leaving me standing there with Emma's arm still linked through mine and the weight of impossible expectations on my shoulders.
"Well," Emma purred, "wasn't that interesting?"
Yeah, I thought, watching the door Rogers had disappeared through. Interesting is one word for it. How does he and Grandpa go way back, though? The age doesn’t add up.
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