The secure number sits in Emma's phone for three days before she finally uses it. Three days of contemplating choices, of watching news footage of Shift's various heroics, of questioning her own path.
The café she chooses for the meeting is upscale but quiet - neutral ground where she can maintain control of the situation. Or at least feel like she has control.
She arrives early, settling at a corner table with perfect sightlines of all entrances. A habit born from necessity - when you can read minds, you learn quickly how many people have hidden motives.
Shift arrives exactly on time, looking annoyingly composed in what's probably a suit worth more than most cars. The son of Wilson Fisk, playing hero while living in luxury. The irony isn't lost on her.
"You called," he says simply, taking the seat across from her.
"I did." She probes gently at his mental shields again, finding them as frustratingly impenetrable as before. "Though I'm still not sure why you care."
"Maybe I see potential."
"In what?" Her laugh is sharp. "Another PR win for the hero of New York? The reformed telepath joining the right side?"
"Actually," he meets her gaze steadily, "I was thinking more along the lines of giving you a real challenge. Something worth your abilities."
That catches her attention, though she tries not to show it. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"
"A team," he says simply. "Something new. Different from what's out there now."
"If you're about to suggest spandex and code names-"
"I'm suggesting purpose," he interrupts. "Real change, not just corporate games."
She studies him carefully, both with her eyes and her powers. His mental shields remain solid, but his expression is open, genuine.
"Why me?"
"Because you're powerful enough to take what you want," he replies, "but smart enough to know there should be more."
Emma Frost doesn't fidget - it's beneath her - but she does adjust her perfectly manicured nails. "And what makes you think I want more?"
His smile suggests he sees right through her act. "Because if you didn't, you wouldn't have called."
Damn him for being right
"Tell me about this team," she says finally, signaling for more coffee. "And don't bother with the inspirational speech about making the world a better place."
"No speeches," he agrees. "Just facts. I'm putting together a group - calling them the Ultimates. People with power who want to do more than just play by the usual rules."
"The usual rules being?"
"The ones that say mutants should hide. That power should only be used in ways that make people comfortable." He leans forward slightly. "The ones you've been breaking anyway, just not for the right reasons."
She raises an eyebrow. "And you get to decide what the right reasons are?"
"No," he replies. "You do. That's the point."
Emma takes a slow sip of her coffee, considering. "Your father knows about this?"
"Fisk understands the value of having powerful allies working within the system rather than against it."
"Clever," she admits. "But what makes you think I'd work well with others? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a team player."
"Neither was I, before all this." He gestures vaguely at himself. "Sometimes the best teams are made of people who never thought they'd be on one."
She probes at his mental shields again, more out of habit than hope. "You're very good at this, you know. The recruitment pitch, the understanding mentor act..."
"Not an act," he interrupts. "Just offering what I wish someone had offered me sooner - a choice that isn't between hiding what you are and misusing it."
"And if I say no?"
"Then you keep playing corporate games until someone notices, or until it stops being enough." His voice carries no judgment, just certainty. "But we both know you're already tired of that path."
Emma Frost doesn't show uncertainty - it's another thing that's beneath her. But something in his words resonates more than she'd like to admit.
"I'll think about it," she says finally.
"That's all I'm asking." He stands, leaving a card on the table - different from the last one. "When you're ready to see what we're really building, call this number instead."
As he walks away, Emma picks up the card, studying the simple embossed design. The Ultimates. It's pretentious, grandiose even.
Yet she still tucks it away in her purse, and walks out with it.
--------------------------------
Two weeks later
The penthouse suite Shift chose for this meeting is all glass and steel, offering a panoramic view of nighttime Manhattan. Emma stands by the window, her reflection a perfect mask of composure.
"You're really committed to this, aren't you?" she asks as he enters. "The whole 'making a difference' routine."
"It's not a routine."
"Everything's a routine," she turns, ice in her voice. "Everyone wants something. The question is, what do you really want from me?"
"I already told you-"
"Yes, yes, building a team, making real change." Her laugh is brittle. "Do you know what happened the last time someone offered to help me 'make a difference' with my powers?"
She doesn't wait for his answer. "They tried to turn me into a weapon. My own family, shipping me off to 'special training' the moment my abilities manifested. Because that's what people do when they see power - they try to control it."
"I'm not trying to control you."
"No?" She steps closer, her telepathy pushing against his shields with new intensity. "Then why can't I read you? What are you hiding behind those mental walls that's so important?"
"Some secrets aren't mine to share. And it is not as if you have a right to know what's in my head. It's my head, after all."
"Convenient excuses." She paces, her perfect composure cracking slightly. "You know what I see when I look at you? Someone playing multiple sides - hero to the public, son to a crime lord, mentor to lost souls. It's all very neat, very calculated."
"Like using telepathy to manipulate stock prices?" he counters.
"At least I'm honest about my motivations. Money means freedom. Freedom means never being controlled again." She stops, facing him directly. "But you? What's your real endgame here?"
The Ultimatrix pulses softly on his wrist as he considers his response.
"You're right," he says finally. "I am playing multiple sides. Because what's coming requires more than just heroes or villains. It needs people who understand both worlds."
"What's coming?" Her eyes narrow. "What do you know?"
"Enough to know we need to be ready. All of us." He meets her gaze steadily. "Your powers, Emma - they're not just for corporate games or self-protection. They could be part of something bigger."
"And I'm supposed to just trust you? Because you've got good intentions?" The bitterness in her voice carries years of learned distrust.
"No," he replies. "You're supposed to make your own choice. Stay on your current path, or help build something new. Something that could actually change how the world sees people like you."
She turns back to the window, silent for a long moment. "The last time I trusted someone's 'good intentions,' I spent two years being 'trained' to weaponize my abilities. My own father arranged it."
"I know."
"Do you?" Her reflection shows a flash of genuine pain before the mask returns. "Do you know what it's like to have everyone you're supposed to trust try to use you?"
"Not exactly," he admits. "But I know what it's like to have power that others want to control. To have to choose between using it their way or finding your own path."
Another long silence. The city lights below twinkle like fallen stars.
"Your team," she says finally, "these 'Ultimates.' What makes them different from everyone else who's tried to collect power?"
"Because we're not collecting power," he responds. "We're building something that's never existed before - a group that doesn't hide what they are or apologize for their abilities, but uses them the right way."
"And you get to decide what's right?"
"Like I told you last time. We all do. Together." He steps closer. "That's the point, Emma. It's not about control - it's about choice."
She studies him for another moment, her expression unreadable. "I must be insane to even consider this."
"Probably," he agrees. "But sometimes the crazy choices are the right ones."
Emma Frost doesn't show hope - it's another weakness she's trained herself to hide. But something in his words, in the possibility of something different...
"If this is a trick," she says finally, "if this is another attempt to control or use me..."
"Then you can try and tear apart my entire organization from the inside," he finishes. "Your choice. Always your choice."
She nods slowly, decision made. "Show me."
Time to see if heroes can really be made from broken trust and bitter experience.
Or if some wounds run too deep to heal.
-----------------------------
(Author note: So Emma joins the team!
What do you all think of that? Also, Emma will, probably be the only love interest. I've written many chapters ahead and I find one love interest fits with this character more than many women, unlike my other fanfics who have king MCs, royalty, etc.
Or maybe she will, and will want control over them. We'll see.
So yeah, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)