"Interesting pattern," Fisk notes, spreading files across his desk. "Six corporate executives, all making decisions that seem... out of character."
I scan through the reports - major policy changes, unexpected contract approvals, sudden shifts in investment strategies. All benefiting an anonymous party.
"Project Echo's sensors detected unusual brainwave patterns during each incident," Fisk continues, watching my reaction carefully. "I'd like your... perspective on whether something enhanced might be involved."
He's not telling me everything - that much is obvious. Fisk never shares information without purpose.
"You think it's a mutant," I observe, noting the subtle markers in the reports. The precision, the lack of physical evidence, the way each target remembers making these decisions willingly.
"Perhaps." Fisk manipulates his displays, showing surveillance footage of the executives before and after the suspected incidents. "Though confirmation would be... useful."
I study the footage more carefully. The changes are subtle - micro-expressions, slight alterations in body language, nothing that would raise flags unless you knew what to look for.
"This level of mental manipulation," I say slowly, "it's sophisticated. Not just brute force mind control, but delicate rewiring of thought processes. They genuinely believe these were their own decisions."
A powerful telepath then. Young, given the pattern of targets - going after the flashiest wins rather than the most strategic ones. Someone with immense natural talent but maybe not the experience to use it more subtly.
"I can look into it," I offer, already thinking of ways to approach this. "Though I'm curious why you're bringing this to me now."
Fisk's expression remains neutral. "Consider it... professional courtesy. After all, enhanced individuals should be of interest to New York's newest hero."
There's more to it than that, but pushing won't get me answers. Not with Fisk.
"I'll need the full data from Project Echo," I stand, reaching for the files. "And permission to handle this my way if I find something."
He nods, though something in his eyes suggests he expected this request. "Of course. Though do keep me informed of any... interesting developments."
As I head out to begin my investigation, I can't help but wonder what Fisk isn't telling me. But first things first - I need to find this telepath before they push their luck too far.
After all, power like that comes with responsibility, whether they realize it or not.
Time to do some hero work of a different kind.
I start by mapping the incidents. Each executive worked for a different company, but there's a pattern in their movements. All the suspected manipulations happened within a five-block radius near Wall Street.
The Ultimatrix pulses softly as I transform into XLR8, racing through the financial district. At super-speed, I can observe without being noticed, watching for anything unusual.
Project Echo's data shows elevated brainwave patterns around specific times - usually during lunch hours or early morning meetings. Our telepath likes to work during business hours. Professional, in their own way.
I spot something interesting outside a high-end café - a young woman, probably around eighteen, sitting alone but watching the crowd with unusual intensity. Blonde, expensive clothes, and carrying herself with the kind of confidence that usually takes decades to build.
What catches my attention isn't her appearance, but the way businessmen walking past her suddenly pause, their expressions going slightly vacant before continuing on their way.
Subtle, if you're not looking for it. But I am.
I transform back to human form in a nearby alley, adjusting my suit. Time to introduce myself, though something tells me a direct approach might not be the best idea with a telepath this powerful.
The café is busy with the morning rush. I order a coffee and take a seat where I can observe without being obvious. The girl continues her people-watching, occasionally typing on her phone.
That's when I notice something else - every person she focuses on intently soon checks their own phone, makes a call, or heads straight to their office. She's planting suggestions, using their own routines as cover.
Clever. Very clever.
But also dangerous. That kind of power, used carelessly...
I feel a slight pressure against my mind - a telepathic probe, gentle but insistent. She's noticed my attention. Time to see how she handles unexpected resistance.
The pressure increases, then stops abruptly. I glance over to find her staring at me, her expression a mixture of surprise and wariness.
Game on.
She stands abruptly, gathering her things. Of course she recognizes me - my white hair and red eyes aren't exactly subtle, and my face has been plastered across every news outlet since the Destroyer incident.
I watch as she heads for the door, her movements precise but hurried. Not running, exactly - someone like her probably never runs - but definitely making a strategic retreat.
I give her a thirty-second head start before following. No need to spook her further, but I can't let her disappear either. Not when she's this close to crossing lines she can't uncross.
The morning crowd provides decent cover as I track her movement. She's good - taking indirect routes, checking reflections in store windows for followers. But I'm better, especially with the Ultimatrix's enhanced senses in human form.
She leads me through the financial district, eventually entering one of those ultra-luxury apartment buildings that probably costs more per month than most people make in a year.
Well, that explains the profit motive at least. Living like this can't be cheap.
I hang back, watching as she exchanges words with the doorman. Her posture is tense - she knows she's being followed, but she's too proud to run.
Another telepathic probe sweeps the area, stronger than before. Looking for threats, looking for me. I feel it brush against my mental shields and withdraw quickly.
Time to make a choice: confront her directly or keep observing? Direct confrontation might push her further down the wrong path, but letting her continue unchecked could be worse.
The Ultimatrix pulses softly, almost like it's offering advice.
Sometimes being a hero means knowing when not to push.
For now, I'll watch. Learn. Try to understand what's driving someone with her potential to use it this way.
After all, everyone deserves a chance to choose the right path. Sometimes they just need to see it exists first.
------------------------------
I spend the next few hours researching. Project Echo's data combined with Fisk's resources paint an interesting picture - recent transfer of wealth from a trust fund, enrollment at an elite private school, and a pattern of high-end purchases that started exactly when the corporate manipulations began.
But it's what's not in the files that interests me. No family visits, no social connections beyond surface-level interactions. Someone with that much power and wealth should have a bigger footprint.
My phone buzzes - Fisk.
"Have you found anything of interest?"
"Maybe," I reply carefully. "Our telepath's young, privileged, and probably alone. Using their powers for profit, but not out of greed. It feels... reactive."
"Interesting assessment." A pause. "Project Echo detected another incident twenty minutes ago. Jefferson Tower, 42nd floor."
I'm already moving, transforming into XLR8 the moment I'm out of sight. Jefferson Tower houses several investment firms - prime territory for someone playing the corporate manipulation game.
I arrive in time to see her leaving the building, still maintaining that perfect composure. But something's different now - her movements are less confident, more mechanical. Like she's running on autopilot.
A businessman exits behind her, looking slightly dazed. Another victim, another manipulation, another step down a dangerous path.
But watching her now, seeing the subtle signs of strain around her eyes, I realize something important: she's not enjoying this. It's not about the money or the power. It's about proving something.
The question is: to whom?
I follow at a distance, observing as she makes her way through the city. No more manipulations today - she looks too tired for that. Telepathy at this level must be exhausting.
She stops at a small park, sitting alone on a bench. Her perfect posture finally cracks, just slightly, as she stares at nothing in particular.
Maybe it's time for a different approach.
I approach the bench casually, hands visible to show I'm not a threat. "Mind if I join you?"
Her head snaps up, that perfect mask sliding back into place instantly. "Shift," she acknowledges, her voice carefully neutral. "Come to arrest me?"
"If I was going to do that, I wouldn't have waited." I sit down, leaving enough space to not seem threatening. "Besides, technically speaking, there's no law against telepathically suggesting someone invest in certain stocks."
"Then why are you here?" Another telepathic probe, gentler this time, more curious than defensive.
"Because I've seen where this path leads." I look out at the park, watching pigeons fight over a discarded hot dog bun. "Using power like yours this way... it seems like control, like freedom. But it's really just another kind of cage."
"You don't know anything about cages," she snaps, then catches herself, smoothing her expression.
"Maybe not yours specifically," I agree. "But I know what it's like to have power that could change everything. To be tempted to use it for yourself instead of something bigger."
She's silent for a moment, studying me. "The red energy form. When you chose to let it go."
"Yeah." I meet her gaze. "Power's not just about what you can do. It's about what you choose not to do."
"And you think I'm choosing wrong?" There's a challenge in her voice, but also something else. Uncertainty, maybe.
"I think you're choosing safe," I reply. "Using your abilities for profit is easy. Predictable. But we both know you're capable of more."
"More what? Heroics?" Her laugh is bitter. "In case you haven't noticed, the world isn't exactly kind to people like me."
"Then help change it." I stand, offering her a card with a secure number. "When you're ready to do something that actually matters, call. No pressure, no judgment. Just... options."
She doesn't take the card immediately, but she doesn't reject it either.
"Why do you care?" she asks finally.
"Because someone should." I place the card on the bench between us. "And because everyone deserves a chance to be more than what others expect them to be."
As I begin to walk away I suddenly pause, turning back slightly. "By the way, I never caught your name."
She hesitates, and for a moment I think she won't answer. Then, with a hint of that natural confidence returning:
"Emma. Emma Frost."
"Nice to meet you, Emma." I give her a small smile. "Try not to crash the stock market before you call."
As I walk away, I can feel her watching me, probably trying to decide if that last bit was a joke or a warning. Maybe both.
Emma Frost. One of the most powerful telepaths in the world, currently using her abilities to play corporate games. But she could be so much more.
I can't wait to add her as the first Ultimate.
For that's what we will be, the Ultimates.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
See, I just wanted to say, Emma will be the only love interest of Sam.
I've written very far ahead, and find that this fits his personality more unlike my other MCs in other fanfics like the Broly one or the Vali and Lucifer ones, who multiple women fits more.
So yeah, hope you all don't mind.
Though, since Emma is 18 en Sam 16, well... Media isn't gonna like that. Well, a part of it, so be prepared for that.
Well, see you all later,
Bye!)