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[15 Chapters in Advance on Patre.on]
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Chapter 14: Doom Roleplay
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Oh, Doom, my friend. I'm coming to touch you, no need for consent. I'm gonna touch that juicy big brain, and it's gonna be wonderful.
[Here he goes again with his weird humor]
[Like, he definitely has sexual issues, right? He's doing this on purpose.]
[If he steals half of Doom's intelligence... That would break the balance.]
[You think he gives a fuck?]
"Nah, I do not give a fuck," Adam chuckled with an eerie smile.
[Misclickscion: ???????????????????]
[Ytoookay: ???????????]
[Whhhhat: ????]
[Iknowsomething: ...]
[Smallpp: Iknowsomething! What do u know! What's happening!?]
[Iknowsomething: I think... I know something.]
[Shitngigglesolio: I'm scared...]
[+1][+1][+1][+1][+1][+1][Any explanation, anyone?]
The morning sun painted the world in hues of gold and hope, a stark contrast to the sterile white that had defined Adam's world for so long.
Today marked a milestone: his first time leaving the sanctuary of the Xavier Institute in a month.
He sat in the passenger seat of a sleek, classic car, the purr of its engine a soothing hum as Jean Grey navigated the winding roads of Westchester County.
"So," Jean began, her eyes on the road but her curiosity palpable. "Are you going to tell me what we're investigating? The Professor agreed, but he was… cryptic."
Adam smiled, a practiced, easy expression. "Hydra."
He must admit, he's practiced how to smile and make other expressions in front of the mirror recently.
His smiles now aren't as strained and weird.
Jean's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "Adam, if this is a Hydra lead, it's too dangerous. That should be a full X-Men operation."
He shrugged, the motion fluid and unconcerned. "It shouldn't be dangerous at all. I'm just an observer. Besides, I am an X-Man."
Jean's head snapped towards him for a split second before she corrected the car's trajectory. "What? Since when?"
"Since Professor X invited me, and I agreed," He said simply.
"But you've only been here a month! There's so much you still need to learn. You shouldn't feel pressured to join." Concern laced her voice; the therapist in her warring with the teammate.
Adam shook his head, his gaze fixed on the passing trees. "My power is unique. I'm the perfect support. I won't be on the front lines. Minimal risk."
Jean opened her mouth to argue further, but the words died in her throat. He was right.
His abilities were a strategic nightmare for any opponent.
Before her regret could solidify, a crinkling sound filled the car.
She glanced over to see Adam happily munching on a bag of potato chips, a look of serene contentment on his face as he watched the world fly by.
The morning light caught the sharp lines of his jaw and the striking white of his hair, and for a fleeting moment, Jean was struck by how charming he looked.
She shook her head, dispelling the thought. He's a kid, she reminded herself.
A kid who had lived only eight years of a normal life before a decade of hell.
The maturity was a shield, the confidence a survival mechanism. She convinced herself.
Following Adam's directions, they soon arrived at their destination.
Jean parked and stared, baffled.
It was a high-end tailor shop, its doors just opening for the day.
"So," She said, a wry smile playing on her lips. "The investigation begins at a suit store?"
Adam laughed, a genuine, free sound. "Style comes before everything, Jean. After all, I have an audience to entertain."
The choice of words was odd. "Audience?" She asked, her brow furrowing.
"My imaginary friends," He replied with a dismissive wave, already heading inside.
Jean followed, a pang of sadness hitting her. Of course, she thought. The scars aren't all on the outside.
[That seals it?]
[He's definitely cracked.]
[Like, I can't get over the climax of the last episode!]
[Did someone come up with an explanation yet?]
[Disney created a masterpiece... Like, the timing was perfect as if he could see our comments.]
[But Disney is saying they didn't make the show.]
[This stinks... Is this somehow a supernatural show? The coincidences are getting too much]
Inside, the shop owner, an elderly man with kind eyes, greeted Adam by name. "Mr. Cypher. Everything is ready. How is Charles?"
"The Professor is well," Adam said smoothly. It turned out Xavier had called in a favor; this was his personal tailor.
Adam thus used the connections available to him, Xavier is very influential.
For the next hour, Adam tried on three meticulously crafted three-piece suits.
The first was a deep charcoal grey that made his white hair seem almost luminous.
The second was a navy blue that brought out the intensity in his eyes.
The third, which he ultimately chose to wear, was a sleek black, all three suits were three-piece suits.
Jean watched, offering playful commentary. "Squandering the Professor's money just to look good?"
Adam adjusted his cufflinks in the mirror, a smirk on his face. "The Prof isn't my sugar daddy for nothing."
He said it with such shameless candor that Jean blushed, while the tailor merely chuckled.
In that moment, Jean felt a genuine spike of envy; not for the suits, but for his emotional freedom.
He was unburdened by the social anxieties that plagued everyone else, especially her.
And why should he feel shame? Xavier's wealth, bolstered by Warren Worthington's fortune, was vast.
And the intelligence Adam had provided on Hydra was priceless. Thus, he wouldn't call it squandering money.
With the new suit adorning his frame and the others boxed in the trunk, Adam directed them to their next stop: a chic café with large, panoramic windows.
They ordered breakfast, and as they ate, Jean couldn't shake the feeling.
"Is this a date?" She finally asked, half-teasing, half-serious. "Was the whole 'investigation' just an elaborate ruse?"
Adam took a sip of his coffee, his smile enigmatic. "Do you hate the company?"
She shrugged, a small smile of her own forming. "No. It's… nice."
But Adam's attention was elsewhere. His eyelids drooped slightly, his gaze narrowing as he appeared to simply enjoy the view of the bustling street outside.
The café's windows offered a perfect vantage point of a busy intersection.
He's here, he mused internally, his mind running through the plan again and again.
I before everyone else. There can be no hesitation, even if it involves the innocent.
[Oh?]
[Told ya, villain story.]
His plan was audacious and ruthless. He couldn't simply walk up to Victor von Doom and curse him.
The retaliation would be instant and catastrophic. Doom is, after all, a sorcerer.
He needed deniability. An accident.
His eyes, hidden behind his casual gaze, locked onto three specific cars entering the intersection from different directions.
He didn't need to see the drivers clearly; he only needed a line of sight.
Slow. Stupefy.
The curses were applied not to Doom, but to the three unsuspecting drivers.
Their minds, deprived of some of their processing speed and cognitive function, entered a state of profound confusion.
Brakes were tapped too late. Accelerators were pressed erratically. The timing, orchestrated by Adam's design, was perfect.
It was no coincidence. He studied Doom's routine and figured out the intersection with the highest likelihood of accidents and heavy traffic.
The result was a symphony of crumpling metal and shattering glass as the three vehicles collided in the intersection in a messy, multi-car pile-up.
It was chaotic, loud, and drew every eye on the street; including those of the pedestrians.
In that exact moment, while Doom was amidst the crash, he acted.
He canceled his Prime Slow curse and replaced it with the Prime Stupefy Curse he's just thrown.
The target: Victor von Doom.
The effect: A 50% deprivation of his transcendent intellect.
Adam felt it immediately; a tsunami of raw, incomprehensible cognitive power flooding his own mind. It was dizzying.
It even started to hurt, having to rub his temples to cool down the horrible pain and ache, as if ants were running down his soul.
He had to consciously focus on breathing, on maintaining his placid expression.
[LET'S GOOO!]
[Is Doom out of the picture now!?]
[This is the most villainous protagonist move I've ever seen!]
[Yeah, how could Doom even stand up against Reed with half his intelligence gone?]
[Ohh, that's perfect. Doom's knocked unconscious. I think he'd likely attribute his diminished intelligence to the accident, a concussion, or something like that.]
[Victor Von Doom: Hmpth, do you think this will bring me down? Peasants. Doom does not lose!]
[I knew there would be some Doom cosplay in chat]
[It's roleplay, stupid.]