Vanessa truly outdid herself. Fisk Tower's grand ballroom has been transformed into something that would make European royalty envious.
The crystal chandeliers cast warm light over marble floors, while New York's elite attempt to pretend they're comfortable in the presence of enhanced individuals.
'I can literally feel their thoughts scrambling between fear and fascination,' Emma's mental voice carries that particular blend of disdain and amusement I've grown to love. 'Though watching them try to hide it is... entertaining.'
From across the room, I notice another CEO type eyeing Emma with that familiar look of someone who thinks they can charm the Ice Queen. My jaw clenches slightly.
"Down, tiger," Emma sends, affection coloring her mental tone. 'Though your possessiveness is... not entirely unwelcome.'
I move to her side anyway, my hand finding the small of her back. The CEO suddenly becomes very interested in his champagne glass.
'Territorial much?' Emma's mental voice carries that playful edge that's only ever directed at me, while her public face maintains its perfect aristocratic mask.
'Always,' I reply simply through our link, earning that subtle softening around her eyes that most people never get to see.
"Charles Xavier," Emma's mental presence shifts to something sharper as a bald man in a wheelchair approaches. He's accompanied by two younger individuals - a woman with striking white hair and a man wearing distinctive red sunglasses. "Well, this should be interesting."
"Professor," I greet, not moving from Emma's side. Through our link, I feel her appreciation of the stance - not protective, exactly, but... claiming.
"Mr. Fisk, Miss Frost," Xavier smiles with that particular warmth that speaks of years of practice. "Or should I say Shift and White Queen? Your work has been... fascinating to observe."
Emma's mental barriers deflect his subtle probe with an elegance that carries just a hint of warning. "As has your... educational initiative, Professor," she replies out loud, her tone carrying that perfect blend of politeness and 'don't even think about it.'
"I must say," Xavier continues, "your approach to public heroics is... unique. Particularly your stance on enhanced individuals operating independently."
The woman with white hair - Storm, if the briefings are correct - studies us with careful interest. Her companion, Cyclops, maintains a practiced neutral expression.
"We believe in transparency," I reply diplomatically. "Though I'm sure your... educational approach has its merits."
Through our link, Emma's amusement sparkles. 'He's trying very hard not to directly mention mutation or his school. Fascinating how many layers of secrets everyone in this room carries.'
Vanessa glides over, perfect timing. "Professor Xavier, I'm so pleased you could attend. I've heard wonderful things about your work with gifted youth."
The conversation shifts to carefully coded discussions of "special education" and "unique learning environments," while I observe the other guests.
Stark holds court near the bar, Banner awkwardly accepts compliments about his research, and Thor's booming laugh carries from somewhere near the buffet.
"Loki's been surprisingly well-behaved," Emma notes mentally. "Though he seems rather entertained by how many people here are lying to each other."
The evening progresses with that particular rhythm unique to high society events - alliances forming and shifting like dance partners, every conversation carrying multiple layers of meaning.
Then the lights flicker.
The first flicker of lights immediately registers - at these kinds of events, even minor imperfections draw exaggerated gasps from the elite crowd. But the second flicker... that's when things start changing.
"Something's wrong," Emma's mental voice carries a hint of concern. Around us, the party's atmosphere shifts subtly.
Stark notices first, his casual demeanor dropping as his tech starts giving him readings. Banner edges away from the crowd, his monitoring bracelet showing elevated readings. Thor and Loki exchange wary glances.
The Xavier contingent grows tense in that particular way that suggests telepathic communication is flying back and forth.
Then the metal shutters slam down.
The reaction cascade is immediate but controlled - New York's elite have, unfortunately, grown used to superhuman incidents.
They move with practiced efficiency toward designated safe areas, even as sections of the ballroom begin sealing off.
"The barriers," Stark calls out, his portable armor assembling. "They're not random. Everyone check your-"
The rest of his warning cuts off as another barrier drops, separating our group from his. Through the gaps, we see Thor's lightning failing to breach his section's containment, while Xavier's group faces barriers humming with familiar psionic dampening tech.
'The calculations required for this,' Emma sends privately, her mental voice tight with professional assessment. 'Knowing exactly how to contain each power set...'
Around us, Vanessa efficiently directs civilian guests through seemingly safe corridors, while Fisk's security team moves with purpose. But something feels wrong about the evacuation routes.
We're being separated. Guided. Each hero, each power set, isolated and contained.
"Tony?" I call through the barrier separating us. "Status?"
"Suit's compromised," his voice carries that particular tone he gets when someone messes with his tech. "Whatever's doing this, it's... elegant. Military-grade elegant."
Through the reinforced barriers, we see Thor's lightning dissipate harmlessly while Loki's magic seems to encounter specific countermeasures. Even Banner, who'd been maintaining remarkable calm, looks increasingly concerned as his section's barriers emit a familiar gamma-dampening frequency.
Vanessa continues directing civilians with remarkable composure, though I catch the subtle glances she exchanges with Fisk.
They've most definitely dealt with enough situations to recognize when something's very, very wrong.
The evacuation paths become increasingly suspicious - each route perfectly designed to isolate specific abilities.
Xavier's telepaths encounter psionic interference patterns that shouldn't exist outside classified research.
Thor's section neutralizes Asgardian energy signatures.
'The tech level,' Emma observes through our link. 'It's beyond anything currently public. Beyond even Stark's capabilities.'
Through a gap in the barriers, I catch Fisk's expression - that particular look he gets when someone dares to compromise his security.
His hand rests protectively on Vanessa's back as they coordinate the civilian evacuation.
Our own path continues to guide us downward, each "emergency exit" route mysteriously malfunctioning except the ones leading to the sub-levels. It's obvious - we're being herded.
"Emma," I start, but she's already caught my thought.
"Indeed," her mental voice carries grim amusement. "Shall we spring their trap? It seems they've gone to such effort to arrange this meeting."
The floor beneath us begins to shift, and I feel the Ultimatrix pulse slightly - almost like a warning.
Something's waiting below. Something that's studied us all very, very carefully.
The sub-level corridors feel wrong - too empty, too perfectly laid out for our "escape." Each emergency light guides us further down, while the building's systems continue to malfunction in suspiciously specific ways.
"Your father's security isn't easily compromised," Emma notes mentally. "Whoever's doing this has resources. Significant ones."
A screen flickers to life as we pass, displaying evacuation routes that just happen to lead deeper into the building's core systems. Behind us, we can still hear the muffled sounds of contained power - Thor's thunder, Stark's repulsors, all neutralized.
"The others are being kept busy," I observe. "This isn't just about isolation. It's about time."
Emma's mental presence sharpens. "Time for what?"
The answer comes as the corridor ahead seals shut, while the one behind us does the same.
And then the Ultimatrix begins to pulse erratically.
"Oh," Emma's mental voice carries dark humor. "I believe we're about to find out."
The electronic hum builds gradually, a subtle vibration that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Around us, screens flicker to life one by one, each device awakening with an unnatural synchronization that speaks of calculated purpose rather than random malfunction.
Then it happens - waves of technological force surge toward the Ultimatrix with surgical precision.
The first forced transformation hits like a sledgehammer. XLR8's form tears through my body with none of the usual smooth transition. Emma's mental scream of concern fragments as our link destabilizes.
'Sam!' Her presence flickers desperately against my mind. 'Your pain levels are-'
Another shift rips through me. Humungousaur's massive form barely materializes before being torn away. Each transformation feels like being put through a meat grinder - the Ultimatrix fighting back against the foreign intrusion, my body caught in the crossfire.
'Hold-' Static fills our mental link as Spidermonkey's form is forcibly engaged. '-on! I can't maintain-'
I try to respond, but the words dissolve into agony. The Ultimatrix wasn't designed for this kind of rapid shifting without master control's defenses. Every cell feels like it's being rewritten too fast, too violently.
Then... everything changes.
The pain doesn't exactly stop - it transforms. Cold seeps into my being, a different kind of sensation altogether.
Ghostfreak emerges, and suddenly there's power. Ancient, otherworldly energy courses through this supernatural form, tearing through the digital assault with terrifying ease.
Emma's mental presence reconnects, carrying uncertainty tinged with relief: 'Sam? This form... it feels wrong. Different.'
'I... I know,' I send back, as I examine myself carefully for a moment. Pushing aside years of instinctive fear regarding this transformation. 'But right now, it's exactly what we need.'
The others are still trapped, but Ghostfreak's abilities prove perfect for this crisis. I phase through barriers that contained Thor, disrupt systems holding Stark, all while ensuring no structural damage that could harm the civilians still being evacuated.
'The elites are clear,' Emma reports, her mental voice steady despite her obvious concern.
'Only our team remains. Though... something feels off about your energy signature,' Emma's mental voice carries that analytical edge she gets when solving particularly complex puzzles.
Her telepathic presence brushes against my consciousness, trying to understand the change she senses.
Thor's lightning finally breaks free, the crackling energy illuminating the space in brilliant flashes. Next to him, Loki's magic weaves through the air, dismantling the remaining technological barriers with precise movements.
Stark's systems come back online with that particular whine of repulsors charging.
We should be celebrating victory. Instead, I feel it - a stirring deep within this ghostly form. Something ancient awakening, like ice cracking beneath your feet before you realize you've ventured too far.
'Sam?' Emma's mental touch becomes more insistent, concern bleeding through her usually perfect control. 'Your consciousness... it's shifting. There's something else there.'
The others notice too. Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightens, ancient warrior's instincts recognizing a threat before it fully manifests.
Loki's eyes narrow, his centuries of magical knowledge letting him sense the change in mystical energies.
"Kid?" Stark's voice carries unusual caution. None of his usual quips when seeing a new transformation. "Your energy readings are going haywire."
Emma's presence in my mind suddenly recoils, like someone touching something unexpectedly cold.
'Sam!' Her mental voice carries genuine fear now - a sound I've never heard from her before. 'Something's awakening. This consciousness... it's vast. Ancient.'
I try to respond, to reassure her, but the words won't come. Because deep within this form, something stretches. Something that I instinctively know has been waiting. Watching. Learning.
And now it's ready.
"At last..."
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Before anyone says anything, the Ultimatrix defenses aren't impenetrable, as seen in Alien Force, the Omnitrix was able to be hacked by Ben and Kevin and malfunctioned temporarily, so this has a logical basis.
Well, see you all in the next one,
Bye!)