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[15 Chapters in Advance on Patre.on]
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Chapter 15: Cinema
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[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.]
They were talking as if watching things from Doom's point of view.
They were basically Adam's spies, feeding him intelligence he shouldn't otherwise know, like now, allowing him to let out a sigh of relief.
What can he say? Plotting against Doom is no easy task. He's a very intimidating figure.
Fortunately, this is still the young, inexperienced Doom.
Jean reacted very quickly; her telepathic senses swept the area, checking for serious injury.
She relaxed slightly. "It's okay. It looks messy, but there doesn't seem to be any serious injury."
Adam offered a smile that he hoped looked like relief.
Internally, he was imagining himself punching that juicy, sexy punching bag to settle down the ache deep in his brain.
It was torturous.
His acting was flawless, but his internal focus was shattered by a sudden, jarring shift in the audience's chatter.
The comments scrolling in the periphery of his awareness weren't about him anymore. They were confused, alarmed.
[Wait, don't tell me?]
[Hydra?]
[Target in sight, and the location... That's outside the coffee, right?]
[Why so surprised? This is Hydra we're talking about. Should be easy for them to find him... Just, why are they sending one person?]
"Hydra is near... Interesting," Adam murmured, his voice a low, contemplative hum.
Jean turned from watching the chaotic aftermath of the crash. "What's interesting?"
He released an unsettling smile that didn't reach his cold, calculating eyes. "Hydra. They're here."
Jean's posture straightened instantly, her gaze sweeping the café and the street outside. "How do you know that?"
"My imaginary friends told me," Adam said with a casual shrug.
Jean stared at him, a mix of frustration and confusion warring on her face. "Adam, this isn't the time for jokes."
[HE CAN HEAR US! HE CAN LITERALLY HEAR US!]
[This is like the third or fourth time!!]
[This is beyond fourth-wall breaking!]
[Guys! Join the Illuminati Discord if you believe! We can try coordinated chat waves, feed him information, and see if he responds!]
[What if this is God reaching out to us?]
Adam said nothing, merely savoring their shock. The [Information] system resisted direct, blatant confession, but it seemed to allow for hints and 'coincidences.'
By feeding off their reactions, by making the show itself a mystery, he could expand his influence, his audience.
He needed to take it further.
Jean, however, was deeply concerned. Her empathic senses probed the edges of his consciousness, finding no trace of deception or jest.
There was only a chilling certainty. Paranoia, she diagnosed silently.
They broke him so thoroughly that he's fabricated a support system of imaginary voices, and now he sees threats in every shadow.
One of her unspoken tasks from the Professor was to assess his fragile mental state, and this seemed like a clear red flag.
All her clinical assumptions were violently overturned when a man slid into the empty chair at their table.
He was broad-shouldered, with a clean-cut, athletic build and a disarmingly neutral expression.
His gaze bypassed Jean entirely, locking onto Adam, whose eyes were now closed as if in meditation.
"It's been a while," The man said, his voice a practiced, soothing baritone. "People back home… They miss you. They talk about you often. Your potential. Your value. It can only truly shine with us."
Adam's eyes remained shut, but a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his features. "I'm surprised you need me so much."
"We want you even more now," The man leaned forward, a fanatical gleam igniting in his eyes.
"You're more valuable than we ever anticipated. The world out here is dangerous, chaotic. It's not suitable for someone of your… unique constitution. Come back. Truly join us. Become Hydra."
Jean had heard enough. She stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Stop,"
She commanded, her voice laced with psychic authority.
She recognized the tactic immediately: a soft recruitment pitch, preying on the perceived vulnerability of a traumatized mind, offering a twisted sense of belonging.
The man froze mid-sentence, his expression going slack. Jean's eyes glowed with a soft, golden light as she gently but firmly imposed her will, halting his motor functions.
"Adam, are you okay?" She asked, her voice tight with concern.
He finally opened his eyes, his expression unnervingly calm. "Read his mind. See what he knows."
Jean frowned, a wave of ethical discomfort washing over her. She was one of the most principled telepaths she knew.
In combat, she would skim surface thoughts for tactical advantage, but a deep intrusion, an interrogation, felt like a violation of the soul.
It was a line she crossed only with the greatest reluctance.
Seeing her hesitation, Adam remained silent. She's too kind, down to a fault.
With a soft, apologetic sigh directed at the catatonic man, Jean delved deeper.
After a moment, her eyes returned to normal. "Nothing. He's a local police officer. A true believer in Hydra's cause, but a low-level asset."
"He knows little to nothing of operational value. The things he said were fed to him through encrypted messages from a handler."
"A police officer," Adam repeated, the words landing with heavy significance.
A dangerous premonition crystallized in his mind.
As if on cue, the wail of sirens erupted in the distance, growing rapidly louder.
Within seconds, the café was surrounded by a fleet of police cruisers, their lights painting the walls in frantic swirls of red and blue.
A voice boomed from a megaphone. "This is the police! The occupants inside, come out with your hands up! You are surrounded!"
Jean's face paled. She released her telepathic hold on the officer, who blinked back to awareness, a smug, knowing smirk twisting his lips.
Everything was going according to his script. He opened his mouth to taunt Adam further, but the words died as he met Adam's gaze.
The young man was smiling again, that same unsettling, placid curve of the lips.
"My imaginary friends are telling me the ones outside are Hydra," Adam stated, his tone conversational. "Can you confirm?"
Jean's telepathy swept over the assembled officers. The result was a sickening confirmation. "They are," She whispered, horror dawning. "They... What should we do?"
Adam chuckled, the sound utterly devoid of mirth. "Jean, you're limiting yourself. Think outside the box."
He stood, straightening his suit jacket with fastidious care. "What you see as an inescapable problem is no problem at all."
"With your power, we could walk out of here without a scratch. But you still think like you're ordinary. Their little play can be voided with a thought."
He turned his attention to the smirking officer. "You want to die, don't you?"
Adam asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. He had read the minute twitches, the almost imperceptible flare of the man's nostrils.
"I'm right, aren't I?" He glanced back at Jean. "Hydra wants to paint us as cop-killers. Make us enemies of the state. The men they sent are expendable pawns. Truly, Hydra is a pain to deal with."
The officer's smirk didn't falter. He chuckled, standing up. "It's unfortunate our plot has failed. But there will be a next time."
"Reach out when you realize that the only way is to join us, better that than an eternity of suffering."
He turned his back on them, a show of bravado, daring them to stop him. No, he wanted them to kill him, so zealous was he that he would gladly sacrifice himself for Hydra.
Jean felt paralyzed by the sheer audacity and influence of Hydra; arresting him was pointless, he was just a cog.
"Hey," Adam called out.
The officer turned, his expression one of arrogant curiosity.
BANG.
The sound was deafening in the confined space. A neat hole appeared in the officer's forehead before he crumpled to the floor, his smirk forever frozen.
Blood and brain matter sprayed across the table and Adam's pristine suit.
"Damn it," Adam complained, flicking a spot of crimson from his sleeve. "This was new."
"Ah! Why?!!" Jean couldn't stop him in time, never having imagined he would take his life without a shred of hesitation.
It was too late. From outside, the megaphone voice shouted, "OPEN FIRE!"
A hail of bullets shattered the café's windows. Jean reacted swiftly, her experience as one of the X-Men clear to all, her hands flying up.
A shimmering telekinetic shield materialized, stopping the rounds in mid-air.
Simultaneously, she sent a powerful telepathic command: SLEEP!; washing over the minds of the Hydra-controlled officers.
All dozen of them slumped to the ground.
Jean grunted, sweat beading on her forehead, her power straining under the dual effort.
"What have you done?!" She yelled at Adam over the cacophony, her voice cracking with stress.
He merely shrugged, watching her struggle with a detached curiosity. Why was she struggling so much?
She's the host of the Phoenix. This should be child's play for someone of her power.
Before she could say another word, a new sound joined the chaos; the roar of powerful, unmarked engines.
A convoy of black SUVs screeched to a halt, surrounding the police cruisers.
Men in tactical gear devoid of insignia poured out, efficiently apprehending the unconscious officers.
From the lead vehicle, a familiar figure emerged.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered black man wearing a long leather trench coat and a black eye-patch.
Nick Fury strode through the chaos as if he owned the street.
Adam stepped through the shattered window frame, carefully avoiding the glass.
He met Fury halfway, the two men standing amid the subdued Hydra agents...
[Ohhh, didn't think Fury would appear so soon!]
[They're working together? How? When?]
[It's been the plan all along, I think.]
[Cinema!]