Susan is nestled into the curve of my arm, the unalike texture of her softness pressed against the steel-sharpened muscle of mine into an untypical calming clasp. She sleeps, her eyes closed, a small upward curl on her lip, blissfully unaware in the warmth and safety she is experiencing that I provide. The Baxter Building, citadel of science, of heroism, looms over, oblivious of the betrayal being engineered amidst its gleaming halls.
I cradle Susan's watermelon ass with one hand, feeling the heat of her skin through the thinning material of her costume. In my mind's eye the Conqueror's Ledger System is activated by a icy blue light, reading out her essential statistics as well as the DP value I've accrued from our clandestine romps.
The Dinosaurus had cooperated so willingly in this ghastly game. His cunning mind had worked its will on the security of the Baxter Building, allowing me onto Susan's quarters undetected by the others. I remember how I had told him of my affair with Susan, his reptilian eyes glinting coldly with a hint of amusement. He had offered his assistance with a rumbling laugh that had shaken the very heart of our twisted bargain.
We had learned FF's habits, their patterns of behavior, their weak spots. We knew where Reed lost track of time over his research, where Sue was overlooked, where the rest of them went out for patrol. Each time I went to see her, the buzz of dishonesty coursed through me like a potent drug.
I finally bought myself a perk thanks to Susan Storm that would allow me to make a reputation for myself within the Marvel Universe.
Trans-Material Evolution (CL 7.5, 2 Billion DP)
Your flesh, blood, and bone have been reconfigured into a mixture of exotic transmatter and organic tissue, rendering you physically one of the cosmic elite.
I can feel the new energy coursing through me, a crescendo of destruction and beauty that echoes deep within my being. The Trans-Material Evolution rebuilt my body, and I am a monstrosity even for the gods. Every one of my cells resonates with new life as I extend my fingers, grasping the weight of the universe within them. The HUD that fills so much of my vision blinks as it re-calculates my stats, the figures swirling higher with a dizzying display of power.
Susan rolls silently, her breath catching as she feels the change of tension in the room. The Butcher's Voice urges sweet temptations into my mind, suggesting the impossible. It promises the wealth of the DP that would have been mine, had I broken her delicate body under my hand, more invulnerable then ever. I clench my teeth, hard, and force the evil voice silent. I am Conquest, after all, and I choose my battles carefully.
I gently but firmly extricate myself from her arms. She opens her eyes, sleepiness yielding for a moment to the fear and expectation beneath. "You're leaving?" she whispers, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the night.
"Yes," I answer, voice low and coarse, "but I'll return."
Susan's eyes widen silently, her outstretched hands, her fingers trembling, reaching out toward me as she struggles to grab onto what she is sure is slipping from her grasp. "Why?" she cries, the sound breaking, her voice unsteady from a mix of despair as well as rage. "What is so important out there that you can't stay with me?"
"Reed," I whisper, stroking her cheek with a callused thumb. "And the world. This is not a romance novel."
Her eyes clench, the determined set of the Invisible Woman asserting itself forward. "But, it could be," she says, her chin shaking though her voice is steady. "If you want it to be."
The Butcher's Voice rasps harshly in my ear, urging me forward. "Shatter her," it growls, "make her beg for your caress, your notice." But I restrain myself, the spark of human warmth a flicker of light amidst the boundless night.
"I have things to do, Sue," I say to her, running the back of my hand along her cheek before letting it drop beside me. "Things that require my undivided attention."
I get out of bed, the coldness of the room striking me like a slap of reality. My HUD flashes once more, with a set of night tasks listed out. The Butcher's Voice growls approvingly as I switch into another set of apparel—a plain polo shirt, loose-fit slacks, the blandness so jarringly out of place with the storm raging inside me.
I lean forward, planting a gentle forehead kiss on Susan, the tender touch a contrast to the monster I have become. She closes her eyes as I touch and kiss her, her tense body relaxing for a moment, slowing her breathing. The kiss is a deceit, a gentle one, trying to calm the pain of leaving her soon behind. The warmth of her skin on mine sends a shiver through me, human part of me craving more of this forbidden gentleness.
But the Conqueror's Ledger remains with me, its cold reminder of who I am. I step back, eyes' HUD reoriented on the next assignment. The blue glow disappears as I exit Susan's bedroom, leaving her to the tousled bed and nagging self-doubts already sure to torment her.
The halls of the Baxter Building stretch out before me, ominously quiet, the specters of scientific achievement standing over me silently. I make my way through to Dinosaurus's quarters, the System urging me on with unrelenting force. The door creaks open, and I see my partner lost in thought before rows of banks of display screens, each one of them displaying detailed models of the world's ecosystems.
He lifts his head as I make my approach, his twisted smile curling up his ancient face. "Ah, Conquest," he rasps, his deep boom of a voice seeming to echo off the walls themselves. "You arrive just in time."
The space is cluttered with technology and fossils, an odd combination of past and present perfectly suited for him. His models dominate the center, his eyes aglow with a fever that teeters on the cusp of madness. His massive fingers thread through the holoscreens, fashioning the information with accuracy that doesn't match his bulk or force.
"Reed and Ben have been... enlightening," he says, his smile expanding. "Their knowledge of Earth's ecosystems is vast, yet so close-minded. They only see things they want to preserve, not things they need to destroy."
I nodded, identifying with his emotions all too well. "And what have you learned from them?"
The Dinosaurus' eyes shine with excitement, his whip-tail lashing out behind him as he waves one hand toward the screens. "They speak of balance, of supporting life," he spits. "Where is the beauty of destruction, then? Where is the excitement of witnessing worlds burn?"
I lean back against the doorway, my new trans-body humming with the possibility of chaos. "And do they listen to you?"
He laughs, his chuckle shaking the floor under our feet. "Yes, they do," he responds, never taking his gaze from the monitors. "Reed is fascinated by my unorthodox approach. I'm a fossil with an offbeat curiosity for his work, by his standards. Ben, though, sees me as a fellow agent of chaos operating from a world frightened of change."
I glance sideways at him, unable to help myself, I experience a flicker of respect. His cunning is unparalleled, the way he managed to insinuate himself into their lives without them even being cognizant of it. It is a manipulation of masterful quality, one that even the Butcher's Voice must see as sheer brilliance.
Johnny Storm, our wild card for our little game. His suspicion is a tightly wound spring, ready to uncooil with the first provocation. Of late, he has kept his distance from me, his eyes narrowing as our paths cross within the Baxter Building. The hot-headed flame is smarter than he looks, his instincts sharper than I would have liked.
He must have seen the manner in which his sister smiles rather too widely whenever I am mentioned, or how she lingers by the doorway as I pass through. The manner in which her eyes follow me, even when she thinks no one is watching. I can actually sense the heat of his gaze tracing the nape of my neck as I make my rounds of the Baxter Building. The Human Torch, Johnny Storm, a man whose furious temper is as much a part of his nature as the flames he wields. Yet for the moment, he keeps it reined, his suspicion smoldering just under the surface.
I have more pressing matters I need to attend to than sit through Dinosaurus's twisted scheming, so I push off from where I've waited, leaving him to his devices, and make for the conference center where I've been told that Reed Richards awaits. I can make out the low rumble of conversation carried on the air as I approach, the tension there as palpable as the flash of electricity that jumps between my fingers. The door creaks as I enter, and there, stretched out at impossible length, is the unmistakable figure of Mr. Fantastic gazing intently over a holographic display of the world. Abigail Brand stands facing him, her arms crossed on her chest, her eyes narrowed down to calculating slits as she looks at him.
"Conquest," he says briefly, his glance darting at me as I enter. "I did not anticipate you being here."
Abigail Brand glares into my eyes, her gaze narrowing as though she can look beyond the disguise. She is a S.W.O.R.D. agent, after all, used to detecting deceptions. The Butcher's Voice cautions me from within, but I tune it out. I have control.
"Reed," I notice, speaking quietly. "I see you are occupied."
He dismissively waves one hand, his gaze remaining fixed on the map.
Abigail stared intensely into me, her expression unchanging. "You know there are new security restrictions?" she asks, her tone cutting through the stillness like a knife.
I nod, staying calm. "I noticed that there were more drones."
Reed twists completely around, so he is facing me, his long frame uncoiling from its crouched, animalistic stance into its human one. "Yes, it seems your... new energy signature came under some notice," he says, his eyes flicking over to Abigail, back to me. "Things have changed, security-wise."
My heart is racing as I realize the implication of his words. The Butcher's Voice had cautioned me of the risks, but the new power had blinded me with its excitement. "There is nothing to worry about" I reply, attempting a careless grin.
Abigail narrows her eyes further, her skepticism as real as the tension between them. "There have been some inexplicable surges of energy near the Baxter Building," she says, her voice a cold blade. "And they can be pinpointed to your signature."
The Butcher's Voice laughs loudly within my ear, "So much for a low profile."
I stand up, my muscles tensing from the effort of suppressing my power, and gaze at her. "I promise you, Miss Brand, it is all part of my research." The lie is easily said, a testament, however faint, of the human side of myself that is still clinging to the fragments of honor. "I've been working on new ways to harness my abilities for the betterment of this world."
Reed nodded, his gaze never wavering from the map. "Abigail, our guest here is Conquest," he says with firmness rather than coldness. "He's worked wonderfully with us so far. He's given me a vast amount of information on the universe I had no idea of previously."
But she is not so easily deterred. "Reed," she warns, her voice stern. "I'm here for evaluation for SWORD. This is not a social call."
Reed's expression becomes pinched, the link between us taut as a thinning string. He can see I'm withholding something, but he can't resist the call of power and information. "Conquest," he says, standing over me, menace hanging between us, "I have no doubt you'll be cooperative with Abigail's debrief."
"Of course," I force out, the words sticking in my throat like splinters of ice.
Abigail Brand strides closer to me, her green locks severely pulled back from her face, a mirror of her no-nonsense attitude. "Let's begin," she says, her gaze taking me from head to toe, searching for an Achilles' heel.
The roof of the upper tier of the Baxter Building is a brutal reflection of the chaos of my mind. In front of me, New York City's skyline stretches out, a gleaming ocean of steel and glass that is frozen, its breath suspended under the weight of our strained silence. The wind whizzes past, whipping up the distant wails of horns and alarms, a human endeavor so insignificant next to the dominion I now wield.
Abigail is standing before me now, as still as a statue, her gaze unblinking. "Your beginnings," she slices through the space between us like a knife. "I need to know all that you haven't revealed to Reed."
I lean against the railing, the cold metal a steady reminder of the storm raging within me. "Origins, you know, are a strange thing," I answer, speaking low. "My own are complicated. A tale of power, of aspiration, born of a world where the powerful survive and the powerless are cast aside."
Abigail does not waver, her gaze as unrelenting as the steel beneath our feet. "I do not believe in fairy tales," she tells me, her tone as biting as the gales whipping past us.
I smile, as artificial as is the human disguise I wear. "Facts are relative," I reply, gazing off toward the horizon as though the truth will somehow lie there, beyond the world, among the stars. "But if you desire the truth, I will share as much as I can. I hail from a world where there is only power. Where things vie for dominance, and the weak are tread down by the powerful."
Her gaze meets mine, unblinking. "And what, exactly, are you, Conquest?" she spits, her voice a lash in the stillness of the night.
"A product of such a world," I say, gazing into her eyes. "A creature born of the same conqueror's heart, of the same will of dominion. I am the embodiment of the desire to conquer, dominate, own. I am the ultimate realization of a thousand wars, of a thousand battles, the culmination of a power so great, so colossal, that human minds can't grasp it."