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Chapter 11: I Am A Novice Trickster
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He gestured to the space on the bench beside him, a disarming, welcoming smile on his face. "Why don't you show me? I'm always interested in impressive powers."
[Wait, what is he doing? Is he seriously befriending the bully?]
[I'm... disappointed. I thought he was going to stand up for Rogue.]
[This is a weird turn. Why?]
[I believe. I don't think he would do that, considering his past.]
[I, too, believe!]
John, his ego thoroughly stroked, sat down without a second thought, completely disarmed.
He was putty in the hands of a novice manipulator, as Adam considers himself to be.
He pulled out a Zippo lighter with a flourish. "Watch this." With a flick of his wrist and a surge of his power, the small flame erupted, not as simple fire, but as a controlled, artistic display.
He was a mutant pyrokinetic; he couldn't create fire, but he could control its shape, intensity, and movement.
Adam watched, his expression one of genuine admiration. "Fascinating. But I wonder about the limits."
He leaned in, his tone that of a curious mind. "Can you shape it into something more detailed? An eagle, perhaps? Or what about density? Can you condense the fire to a point where it achieves a semi-solid state? What would that even look like? Would the molecular excitement transform it into a magma-like substance?"
John's eyes widened, the questions igniting his imagination in a way no one ever had.
They saw his power as a blunt weapon or a cheap party trick. "I… I never thought about that," He muttered, and immediately started trying, the flames above his hand writhing and twisting as he focused.
Soon, a flaming eagle soared from his palm, then morphed into an intricate, spinning lotus flower.
They chatted for a few minutes, Adam guiding the conversation with effortless charisma, while Rogue sat beside him, her heart sinking into a cold pit.
This is it, she thought. He's like all the others. He sees a shiny power and forgets about the freak.
Adam then took a deliberate bite of his burrito. "You know," He said conversationally, "A man of impeccable taste once said the key to a good burrito is the hands of a Latina."
He didn't give them the time to respond to his usual humor as he continued.
"But can you believe it? Before last month, I hadn't had one in twelve years."
He chewed slowly, savoring it. "In fact, I hadn't had a decent meal in a very long time. Lived off stuff that made dog food look gourmet."
John and his friends were pulled from their fiery fascination, staring at Adam with confusion.
"How?" one of them blurted out.
Adam looked genuinely surprised. "You don't know? I thought it was school gossip. An evil organization called Hydra had me imprisoned. Like a guinea pig. For over a decade."
He let that hang in the air for a moment, his gaze distant. "You can imagine what that's like. I think about killing them all every single day."
John's face twisted in anger, a mutant solidarity overriding his previous bullying. "Those human bastards! How dare they experiment on one of us?"
"Exactly," Adam agreed, his voice hardening. "It's like they have no fear. Treating us like lab rats, despite the power we hold."
He then, seemingly offhandedly, gestured to Rogue. "It makes you wonder why they're so hellbent on making enemies out of mutants, when there are people like her among us."
The shift was so subtle, so seamless, that John didn't see what was coming.
Adam continued, his tone musing, almost visionary. "It's just so stupid, strategically. I mean, think about it. You're making an enemy out of someone who can put you down with a touch. Just one touch, John."
He locked eyes with the pyrokinetic, his own gaze filled with an unnerving, absolute confidence.
"One touch, and she can absorb your entire existence. Your life force, your memories…"
He paused for a beat, letting the horror sink in. "...Even your powers. The very thing that makes you special, John. She can just… take it."
He leaned back, as if contemplating a fascinating chess move. "Now, imagine if she got frustrated. If she decided to stop holding back. If she absorbed the powers of everyone here."
He swept a hand to encompass John and his friends. "She would be… what? The strongest being in existence? Probably."
He looked directly at John again, his charismatic eyes pinning him in place. "So, I ask you, John. Why would anyone with a functioning brain cell try so hard to make an enemy of her? Do you not think that's the most idiotic, self-destructive policy imaginable?"
John's bravado evaporated. His face was stunned. His eyes began to dart around erratically, desperately avoiding looking anywhere near Rogue.
He audibly gulped, the sound loud in the sudden silence. The image Adam had painted wasn't one of a pitiable freak, but of a sleeping goddess of annihilation whom he had been poking with a stick.
"I mean, come on, Jon. Are they not just fucking retarded?" Adam said in exaggerated disbelief.
[OH MY GOD. HE DIDN'T BEFRIEND HIM. HE BROKE HIM.]
[Oh... Well played.]
[This is the most brilliant takedown I've ever seen. No fists, just facts and fear.]
[I TAKE IT ALL BACK. ADAM CYPHER, YOU MASTERMIND!]
Adam, as if the conversation had been about nothing more than the weather, turned his attention back to his burrito.
"Mmm. Years of torture couldn't make me shed a tear, but one bite of heaven, and I feel like crying."
He turned to Rogue, who was staring at him in a daze, her mind struggling to catch up. "Want a bite? I'm in a phenomenally good mood today. I can grant you the honor."
While he was offering her the burrito, John seized the opportunity. He scrambled to his feet so fast he almost tripped. "We, uh… we gotta go,"
He stammered, not looking at anyone. His group, equally terrified, followed suit, practically fleeing across the lawn.
The thought of Rogue's touch, which they had once mocked, was now a primal terror.
They made a silent, unanimous decision: they would keep far far from Anna from now on.
Rogue took the proffered burrito with a trembling hand and took a small bite, the flavors not registering.
She was looking down, hiding her face as the pieces clicked into place. He hadn't abandoned her.
He hadn't thrown a punch or uttered a single threat.
He had, with nothing but words and chilling charisma, dismantled her tormentor and instilled a fear so deep it would likely keep John away for good.
Tears, hot and silent, began to stream down her face.
It surprised Adam how something so simple could impact her so much.
He simply couldn't understand. He hadn't done much.
[I don't think he's socially aware]
[Well, it's natural. He hadn't had many social interactions]
Adam watched her for a moment, then spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Our powers are like muscles. They can be trained. But the mind is the biggest obstacle."
"If you fear and hate what you are, you'll never move forward. You'll make the same mistakes. You have to try to accept it. Learn to control it. Not just for yourself, but for everyone around you."
His words weren't empty comfort; they were a roadmap, tailored specifically for her kind heart.
He was giving her a purpose beyond her own pain.
He stood up, his meal finished. She stood with him, wiping her tears. "Thank you," She whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
He gave her a warm smile. "Do you need a hug?"
The question was so unexpected it made her blush. Her silence was his answer.
He chuckled. "Well, I need a hug. It's been a while." He stepped forward, opening his arms carefully. "As long as the skin doesn't touch, we'll be fine."
Tentatively, she moved into his embrace, her gloved hands resting on his back, her cheek carefully placed on his shoulder.
He hugged her firmly, a solid, reassuring presence. It was the first time she had hugged someone in years.
For him, the last time he's hugged someone, aside from his 'parents' in this life, was his mom from his past life, in that hospital bed.
"Have some confidence," He murmured. "Overconfidence can get you in trouble, but no confidence will leave you stagnant, so force yourself to be confident, even when you feel you don't deserve it."
He gave her a final pat on the back and let go, his smile lingering. "A certain grumpy old man is waiting for me. Don't want to keep him."
He walked away, leaving Rogue standing under the oak tree. She watched him go, a new light in her eyes.
"Thank you," She muttered again, long after he was gone. She raised her head, her shoulders squaring, a semblance of hard-won confidence beginning to bloom on her face.
[Character development! My heart!]
[He's a therapist, but I don't think he's realized his impact on her.]
[Okay, I'm officially hooked. This show is genius.]
[Guys, where do you think he's learned this stuff? It must be books, right?]
Adam walked back towards the mansion, a faint, genuine smile on his lips. He did love hugs.
They were life's greatest gift to a struggling mind. For a moment, he wondered if he had mommy issues, then dismissed the thought with a mental shrug.
The "grumpy old man"; Forge; was waiting, and he had a new surge of happiness and energy to burn through in the Danger Room.
The audience had been given a good show, and he felt the [Information] gauge in his mind twitch ever so slightly higher. It was a good fucking morning.