Chương 82: Obsession 2

"There are two ways to go when you hit that crossroads in your life: There is the bad way, when you sort of give up, and then there is the really hard way, when you fight back. I went the hard way and came out of it okay." -Matthew Perry The plan was simple and based on one of the thirty-six strategies. Specifically, it was the first of the Offensive Stratagems. Stomp the grass to startle the snake. Do something pointless to provoke a reaction.

It was loosely based on Mikael's original idea to use Franklin Richards as bait. They now actually had a reality warper they could use, Melina. Even if she was nowhere near the peak of control she'd need to be for them to trust her to do anything dramatic. But the Enemy didn't know that.

More than that, the Phoenix Force was one of two beings they were sure the Enemy was conscious of. The other was Ciara. The Fairie Queen was the first level of the bait. She, realistically, was no threat to the Oppressor now that she was an almost harmless ghost without her shard or her connection to the Black. She had also already spilled everything she knew, so knowledge containment was impossible.

So, when the Family had covertly alerted the Justice League that she and Grundy would be part of Priscilla's band, they had been conscious about possible movement from the Enemy but not genuinely concerned. There was some pushback from the heroes, of course. They were afraid of the former Birdcage inmate and what it meant for Priscilla to have done to her what she had done to others. But, in the end, there was nothing the League could do to stop them.

It hadn't escaped Emma's notice that none of the heroes on that ship had appeared in public since Melina became the Phoenix. Instead, the heroes had demanded that they be present when the announcement was made public. Because, of course, they would. There would be panic, and nothing attracts nosy heroes like public discord. That was the second part of the plan. If the heroes, possibly controlled or observed by this 'oppressor,' discovered Melina, what would they do? And if they were in a public place?

They were stomping the grass. Whether the snake moved or not, the Family would learn something. And the Oppressor had to do something. Emma knew how much the Phoenix Force changed things. It was not a tool you could allow your opponent to control. It was practically a victory condition by itself. Either you controlled the Phoenix, or you removed it from the board.

Even if the heroes were ignorant of Odin, and the Family was still trying to understand what was going on with the whole Asgard situation, there was no way to hide Melina's ascension as the Phoenix host without keeping the woman confined to the Island. So, logically, the heroes would blame the Family for what happened on that spaceship. But what would they do? When confronted by the Phoenix host and a panicking crowd, will they act as heroes or as agents of the Enemy?

The only hiccup in the plan had been the uncertainty of whether Melina would be able to attend. Emma was genuinely worried for the woman. She had all the psychic subtly of a drunk rhino. There was every possibility Melina would be overcome by her abilities as nascent telepaths often were. If that happened, Mikael would use an illusion. That was a subpar option, as illusions were not foolproof, but it was there.

Even as screams echoed through the crowd, people rising to their feet to rush for the exits and the security bots to try and keep peace, Emma continued to work.

"Those on the ship are still asleep," she reported to Mikael, who was holding her hand. While touching him, her powers knew no boundaries, and she freely plucked secrets from even the best-defended minds.

"Those that weren't don't have anything on us either. They are waiting for the others to wake up for their testimonies. Zatara thinks it will be in a few days. Before seeing Melina, Batman suspected you grabbed the Phoenix, but it was a guess. He wasn't going to confront you till he had proof."

"Should I be flattered he thinks I can steal a cosmic force from below their noses?" Mikael asked sardonically with a chuckle, even as his mind carefully categorized the crowd's movements. One of the parts Emma liked about him.

"At least the Sorcerer Supreme won't come after me for pulling an Obito. I was worried he'd be able to see through the illusion." Emma didn't ask who 'Obito' was, seeing the reference in his mind. Heroes, always quick to react, had lept to help quell the chaos, and Mikael watched it all without moving. There was chum in the water, but were there any sharks? It didn't look like it.

Nobody had thrown a punch yet, too busy trying to flee, but any help the Supers would have been was mitigated by the fact that three 'Supermans' and four 'Wonder Womans' and no less than sixteen (thanks to aggressive advertisement efforts and numerous 'unique' costumes to choose from) 'Iron Mans' were among the crowd trying to flee. With an idle thought, Emma divested a second to peer into a few minds that had started the panic to check if it had been enemy action. It hadn't.

One of the guests was a Super that triggered during Ciara's original rampage. They were dressed up as, funnily enough, Priscilla herself in a layered fur dress. They even had painted on scales. Their fake tail had been left in their seat when they screamed and ran. She had only been the first to scream and run. When one of the herd bolted, the rest followed. Her curiosity sated, Emma dove back into the minds that mattered. Batman's was the juiciest. He had so many fingers in so many pies.

She had only done a surface-level scan during the Gala, too busy with Luthor and getting a grasp of everyone else there to do a deep scan. He had Dragon's kill switch, which was... interesting. It meant he had access to all her code, could modify her in the blink of an eye and approaching her in confidence was doomed to failure. Apart from that, there was a smattering of interesting details in his mind. He was a genius, no doubt, and parsing through it all would be a task that would take hours.

Instead, Emma just picked through the most recent and vital details. An uptick in Master class Supers, a new medicine that could grant low-level Superpowers (Emma hadn't been aware Elixre had died in this world. A shame.), the completion of the Watchtower in two weeks, and ongoing concern for his sleeping friends. All fascinating and possibly valuable, and she reported it all to her husband, but Emma dove towards specific parts of his mind, those centred around Mikael and her Family specifically.

There was the paranoia, but there was a surprising amount of respect there. It was tied with two memories, one a meeting with two ghostly figures in an alley and the other seeing his long-time friend Alfred look years younger. But that respect, and even trust, was tempered by an almost fatalistic certainty that Mikael would eventually turn into a threat. Batman wanted to trust her husband, Emma realized. He wanted Mikael to be a hero, to continue to do good in the world and wanted to be proven wrong.

And, so long as Mikael continued to do good, Batman would trust him. Batman was just certain it would not last forever and had to be prepared for that inevitable conflict. Mikael played by his own rules, Batman had realized. While that was largely altruistic, it wouldn't take long until something came along to change that. The Phoenix Force was the perfect example.

The League's plan would have neutralized the Phoenix as a threat for millennia if successful, on top of giving humanity a tool against the likes of Galactus. Mikael, without alerting anyone, had schemed to gain its power for his own faction. Like with Trigon, no law had technically been broken, and no one was hurt, but his threat grew. Eventually, Mikael would want something he could not gain without making enemies of heroes.

Or, Emma realized this was one of Batman's more prominent fears: some fool of a villain would do something to tickle the sleeping dragon. Mikael would respond in a decisive and cataclysmic manner. The Elden Lord had killed the gods because they wanted his sword and tried to blackmail him. He had a Demon Lord and now the Pheonix to back him up, not counting the rest of the Family. Of slight interest to Emma was that Batman was sure there was a wife the public wasn't aware of.

He had seen the footage of Priscilla killing Tohu, as had many people, and the phantom image of the six-winged dragon Emma's Semblance projected. Most assumed it was her husband behind Heartbreak because of that image and the feelings it brought, but Batman believed the exact opposite. He compared what he knew of the man, his temperament and abilities, and decided it was someone else. An unknown wife operating behind the scenes.

The psychic they knew existed but had never been able to confirm as one of the known wives. When he saw Melina display clear signs of being the Phoenix host, he considered her but ultimately dismissed the possibility. Melina had spent the entire Endbringer attack in the healing tent in Brockton Bay, even during Heartbreak. The caped crusader hadn't told anyone his theory of a thirteenth wife, not until he had proof, but that he had put together the clues at all was impressive. And irrelevant.

Whoever this 'Enemy' was, if they were really controlling Supers, they would already know about her existence thanks to talking to her counterpart before they discovered it. Emma pulled herself from Batman's mind, finding nothing of genuine concern. Batman was right, of course. Both about her existence and the inevitable parting of ways the heroes of this world would have to contend with someday. This alliance with her Family would last only as long as both sides benefited.

That would be a while yet, as certain members of her Family continued to be heroes at heart themselves, but there would come a day when even they could not deny that operating within the binds this world placed on them was not possible anymore. When that happened, Emma hoped Mikael would shed his veneer. That he would stop holding himself back. This all passed through her in the few seconds it took to scan Batman's mind, and she hurriedly moved on to other Supers in the crowd.

The panic was both redoubling and calming down at the same time. Those who hadn't joined the throng rushing to the door, who had remained seated or kept their head, had noticed that the 'villains' had remained on the stage and made no move to get off. But those who did not see this only found themselves penned into the room by the closed doors or the wall of people redoubled their efforts to flee.

The heroes would not allow this panic to last for long, and Emma continued to flit through their minds as they made their move. Zatarra, who was whispering a mass calming spell, was concerned with his comatose daughter and the complete disconnect from the divine realms of the world. The Teen Titans were moving to help corral the crowd and keep them from trampling people.

Emma peeked into their minds but found nothing of interest but their recovery from the incident with the Sons of Trigon, a few local scuffles with low-level villains, their continued training under Glynda and their issues incorporating their new member. At least Wonder Woman's sister was keeping herself occupied. Emma practically flew through other minds, finding only low-level Supers, vague thoughts about her Family, reminiscences on Heartbreak, or other equally inconsequential thoughts.

Nothing, nothing and a whole lot more, nothing. Hell, the only thoughts of any substantial interest outside of Batman's head were from the X-men. They knew Frost was a mutant and wondered what her play was with this whole shebang. They were also dwelling on the recent 'lock-down' Xavier had put them under, only to let them go not long after without explanation. But this Enemy? Odin? Anything at all that could be a threat to her husband and his wives? Emma found absolutely nothing. It was maddening.

If this Enemy, this 'Oppressor,' existed, they had to have some method of contacting and controlling its victims. And, once those thralls discovered Melina, their first thought should have been to report it. Either psychically or through some other method. Yet there was nothing here. Just like Emma had discovered nothing in Eidolon's mind, she found nothing here. And it annoyed her.

Almost as much as seeing her local counterpart stand from her position on her couch, grab a microphone, and speak into it with the authority of a judge.

"Enough." One word, backed by the power of one of the strongest psychics on this planet, quieted the room. Any sort of Master power was dangerous and hard to defend against. In the entire audience, only one or two were not affected as Emma Frost glared the room into silence. Then, both to cover her use of power and to flex, Frost looked Zatara directly in the eyes, nodded, and addressed the crowd. Emma could begrudgingly respect that small move caught on camera for the world to see.

The only part of this farce so far she hadn't planned out with her counterpart. Forst had just accused him of Mastering the crowd and thanked him for it. And he had to sit there and take it. It wasn't fair to the magician. He had been going for a 'slow return to calm' effect, thanks to the other heroes keeping any injuries from happening, rather than the immediate 'STOP' that Frost pulled. But nobody would know that unless they knew magic and that Frost was a mutant.

Or had Magic Talent and spent over a year living with one of the greatest witches to ever live.

"I have personally," Frost stressed the word even as she spoke coldly. Like she was daring anyone to challenge her.

"Had my guards ensure the safety of everyone here. There is no threat. Neither the Faerie Queen nor her shade can hurt you." In the silence that fell, a slightly tremulous voice rose.

"I... I thank the valiant heroes who rose here," Priscilla said softly, the slightest stutter in her voice, also nodding to Zatara in thanks. Whether she knew the trick or not, Emma didn't know. Priscilla didn't need a microphone to be heard. Throughout the entire minute of chaos, she had remained silent, sitting on the couch and watching things play out. From their place backstage, Emma could see the way her tail twitched in distress.

"Your efforts to keep peace are well appreciated. My sincerest apologies for all the distress my Spirits have caused. Please. Return to your seats. You are safe under the watchful eyes of your defenders. I have looked forward to meeting you all and do not wish today to be anything but joyful." Slowly, almost mechanically, the crowd returned to their seats. Emma remained hard at work. And she wasn't the only one.

"Northern Europe is clear," a tiny blue doll reported from its place, poking out of Mikael's chest pocket.

"China has two more bases than previously discovered. I am assigning more dolls."

"Any response?" Mikael asked, even as he kept his eyes on Priscilla cajoling the crowd. They had snapped out of their Frost-induced trance and were now making noise again. Nobody was panicking, though more than a few glares were sent Zatara's way after Frost threw him under the bus, but there were definitely voices speaking in low whispers as they tried to parse out whether they were in danger or not.

"None, my Lord," the tiny Ranni reported dutifully.

"Take your time and report anything out of place," Mikael looked down at the small head to pet it with one finger as he spoke. The small doll was expressionless even as it leaned into his touch. Emma was sure Ranni was using magic to keep her large hat on the doll's head.

"Be thorough. I'll keep the illusion over your moon for as long as needed. When dealing with cockroaches, you can't allow even one to survive." He was speaking to them both, and Emma allowed herself to smile as she ripped three more locations from a mind in Peru.

"As you will, Lord Husband."

"Found anything here, Emma?" Mikael asked as he rubbed a thumb along the back of her hand.

"Nothing."

"They didn't take the bait." Mikael sounded as relieved as he did disappointed.

"Tell Priscilla she's good to release Ciara to speak. And have Melina join us."

"Done." A thrill of pleasure shot down Emma's spine as she manipulated an entire world and scanned the crowd, her mind entirely without limits. As it should be. Emma Frost had been Chosen to be the link, the one to communicate Mikael's will and orders to his women. And she was doing that on a scale she had never been able to before. Empowered by two Command Seals, her mind overlapped the entire globe.

Using the millions of Ranni dolls as relay points, also empowered by two Seals, they tore through their enemies without leaving their positions of safety. Far beneath the ocean waves, the tiniest mile of a great white claw poked out from the Jewel that enclosed Mikael's pocket dimension. Not enough to cause the catastrophic flooding that the entire appendage being released would cause, but it was still enough of a foothold in this dimension for Mikael to unleash his power into this reality.

The illusion was inconceivably powerful. It covered the entire planet, hiding the Chill Moon inlaid with the Elden Ring as its size quintupled in the sky, dominating the whole horizon for anyone who could see through Mikael's magic. Emma would admit to herself and Mikael, if he asked, that she had never been more turned on. This was what she wanted. All of the earth was under their sway. Individual orders weren't possible at these scales, not without a relay point like Ranni's dolls, but broad controls?

If Mikael ordered it, Emma could turn every intelligent being on the planet into their playthings. And it was all turned against their Enemy. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. It didn't matter if it didn't take the bait. By the end of the day, the Hand would cease to exist. A naked threat. If the carrot didn't work, then the stick would have to.

The fluttering in Priscilla's stomach had nothing to do with fear of an attack and everything to do with being under the bright lights of the stage. There were so many eyes on her. Thousands in this room. Millions watching from screens all over the world. They were all watching her. And it terrified her. They would see the scales on her skin, marks of her crossbreed heritage. They would see her body, at once too large to be mortal yet too small to be divine. They would see her tail twitching in agitation.

The furry appendage barely stopped from destroying the couch she sat on. They would hear her speak and find it pitiful compared to Sir Bard's sublime voice. They would mock the 'archaic' words she spoke with, once one of the few markers of her class, it was now a holdover she hadn't managed to shake, unlike Lady Melina. The entire world would look at Priscilla and know her disgrace, the shame of her existence. Why had she done this? Why had she thought she could do this?

Had she, from the safety of her home under Sir Bard's power, had the arrogance to believe she should step beyond her gilded prison? Had a lowly crossbreed believed she could bring joy to the world when her very existence was a shame? Could the thirteenth of thirteen wives, the one chosen as an 'experiment,' stand up to the example of the inheritor of Lord Gwyn? Could Priscilla give this grim world even a fraction of the joy she received?

Could her music be anything but the barest candle compared to the flame that Mikael had kindled in her breast so long ago? No, the eyes seemed to say. No, you can't. You can't, and you won't. Disappear. Turn invisible and leave. Like you always have. Go unseen and unremembered. Even as the crowd quieted, it was all Priscilla could do to stop herself from shaking.

The words of her Family, the encouragement they had given before she came upon this stage, had been enough for her to play her part in quelling the panic, but they fled her as the host retook control of the situation, and all attention was on her once more.

"So," Sally Floyd started with a forced chuckle.

"Miss Frost, Miss Priscilla." There was a noticeable delay as she addressed the last two figures on the stage.

"Miss Ciara and Mr Gold. I admit this is a first for me. I honestly do not know where to start." Perhaps sensing her mistress' state, the Faerie Queen did not hesitate to answer.

"Why do you not start by calling me Ciara, Sally," the Spirit Ash said with a charming smile and a laugh that tinkled like fairy bells. Grundy rumbled something that might have been words. Or a laugh. Or a cough.

"I am no longer the illustrious Queen of a Court. Bereft of all my companions but my champion, I have become but a humble performer upon a stage at my liege's leisure." There was another brief moment of hesitation as the hostess looked from the spirit to Priscilla to Frost before she jumped on the chance provided, her history of investigative reporting shining through.

"How did this happen," Sally asked, leaning forward.

"I am sure I am not the only one curious how you two went from one of the first Birdcage escapists to suddenly being here and so... different. The League reported you, Swamp Thing, and Gavel had been detained. How did you come to be like... this?" It was evident that, despite reassurances of her safety, the hostess was cautious with the former Super boogeyman.

"Alas," Ciara feigned embarrassment as she giggled behind a hand.

"The tale is one of great embarrassment. Of my hubris and the price I paid for it."

"I am curious as well," Frost said with a slight smile as she looked at the shade. Unlike Sally, she was completely relaxed, like everything was under her control. In her, Priscilla saw the poise she wished she had.

"When I contacted Priscilla to be Frost Records' first artist, I had no idea her band would be so... eclectic." Mikael or Emma may appreciate the subtleties of the words, how Frost was giving permission for Sally to interview Ciara without explicitly saying it. How the mutant was using this opportunity to put her company name out there as the one in charge and the Family answering to them in some small way.

A tiny power play that was harmless, as everyone knowing the actual deal would know, yet very real to the outside world. Priscilla didn't care about any of that as her Spirit Ash bought her time.

"I journeyed to Lord Albion's land," Ciara began to weave her tale.

"An invasion. There, my army grew as I gathered other invaders under my banner. Fantasma, Wang Fang, Shion, El Seignor, and others fell joined me in my march." There was a casualness as the Faerie Queen listed a few victims. Well-known victims. Well-known state-sponsored victims. Supers that had no reason to be on the Island.

"Lord Albion let me deal with the chaff. He cares not for invaders, you see. Be they good or bad. He lets them come, and the Island does the rest. My Lady, though, is merciful. She desired to give my companions rest, and when I took umbrage and refused her kind offers, she was forced to confront me."

"So she killed you," Sally asked, shooting Priscilla a look that the dragon girl didn't notice. All the crossbreed felt was nausea. This was too much. Too many people. Too many eyes. When they weren't visible, when they were just an endless flow of fake names passing on a screen in a second, it was one thing. Priscilla had been home, completely safe on the Island. Here, she was visible. Vulnerable. Not to the Enemy or Odin or a villain. Priscilla didn't fear anything like that.

She might be the least of the thirteen wives, but she was still Mikael's wife. She was still a dragon. She was not weak. But she was not strong either. Not in the way her Bard was. She could not discard her shame under a million eyes.

"No," Ciara giggled again.

"She sought to free the companions of my power. I died to the Island. A victim of one of the beasts Lord Albion warned about. I was too foolish to heed his warning."

"There's a monster on that island that can kill you," Sally hissed as the crowd started to chatter and make noise at the frightening news.

"Indeed, though I pride myself in that it was the most deadly of such creatures that slew me. A monster of endless hunger that lurked in the most unexpected place, responsible for the death of more Supers than even I. I let down my guard and paid the price."

'Priscilla?'

'Sir Bard?' Priscilla asked in her head as Mikael's voice echoed telepathically.

'Emma's patching me through. What's wrong?'

'I cannot do this,' She admitted shamefully.

'Ok?' Mikael's voice was genuinely confused, and Priscilla's shame redoubled. Of course, he would not have such a weakness. He could not comprehend such a folly as hers.

'Why not?' A simple question, one with such an obvious answer that Priscilla wondered why the typically insightful man even asked.

'Because I will fail,' the dragon girl half wailed in her mind.

'I am not like the others. They are all looking at me, and I... I can't do it.'

'So?'

'Sir Bard! My failure will shame myself and the Family.'

'Pfft.' Priscilla didn't know how he did it, but Mikael somehow managed to snort a laugh in her mind.

'Babe, what makes you think I have any sense of shame. Half the shit that comes out of my mouth should get me arrested for how bad it is. And the rest of the Family don't care about that.'

'But I am not like them,' Priscilla insisted.

'I cannot ignore such shame. I am not like thou either. My music, my voice, my unsightly form... I should never have left the Island. I do not know what to do.' Mikael laughed.

"How did your... death lead to becoming part of the band?" Sally leaned forward, her fear slowly fading in favour of curiosity.

"Did the Elden Lord bring you back?"

"I am not truly alive," Ciara laughed lightly.

"I am but a remnant. And no, Lord Albion is not responsible for our state. T'was my Lady. She has a connection with the dead. A pacifying spirit. The wails of my comrades in arms brought her attention to me, for I did not know that my power caused them pain. After my fall, Lady Priscilla allowed them all to pass on to the great beyond if they wished. If they didn't, she offered them a place at her side. She does not force us to work, fight, or any such nonsense before you ask.

Once I heard of her desire to perform, I volunteered to aid her in her dream."

'Sir Bard! T'is not a situation for laughter. I am in crisis.'

'My silly, floofy dragon,' Mikael said, even as he laughed.

'I'm not laughing at you. Just at the irony. You do know that before the catalogue, I absolutely sucked at singing, right? Like the worst. It sounded like a bag of wet cats being thrown against a wall.'

'... Truly?' Priscilla hadn't known that. In fact, she didn't think any of the others knew that either. For as long as they knew the man, his love of, and skill with, music had been a core part of him.

'Yep,' Mikael said as he got his chuckles under control.

'That's one of the reasons I chose Siren Song and Performance Talent. I love music, but I sucked with it. I'd sing for hours and miss every single note. But this isn't about me. This is about you and your stage fright.'

'A solution?' Priscilla asked.

'Will I be replaced by one of thine illusions?'

'Nope. There is no reason to. For one, you also have Performance Talent and trained with me. So, while you don't have Siren Song, you have the closest this world can get without it. I am going to throw away your argument about your music and voice. I am also going to ignore your 'unsightly form' comment. We both know that all your fans love how you look, and that was before they saw you in that dress.'

'Lady Medea's work,' Priscilla said with the barest hint of pride.

'Your fears are unreasonable, you silly floof,' Mikael said, though not unkindly.

'But that's fine. Unreasonable fears are still fears. I have plenty of those. We just need to deal with it. I will give you the trick I used in your situation.'

'T'is not to imagine them in their undergarments,' Priscilla asked fearfully.

'Lady Yoruichi recommended such, and I do not wish to be so l.. lewd.'

'Nah, that never helped me either. Depending on the audience, it either made me horny or nauseous. And since most of my public speaking was in a business environment, it was usually the latter. No, my trick is pretty simple, but it helped a hardcore introvert like me become who I am.'

'What is it?' Priscilla asked eagerly.

'Whenever you feel fear of something, especially something you know is irrational, simply count to yourself.

'One. Two. Fuck it.' Then you dive in, not giving it more thought and faking it as best you can.'

'... Such a thing works?' Priscilla asked doubtfully.

'And must it be so crass?'

'Most fear comes from ignorance or fear of the unknown. The fear of 'what if.' Knowledge is the Enemy of fear, and knowledge is accumulated from experience. By forcing yourself forward, stopping yourself from psyching yourself out and diving right in, you accumulate experience instead of getting caught in fantasies. You'll still feel anxious; you always will, but it won't hold you back. And, over time, as you repeat the same task over and over, your familiarity will diminish the anxiety.'

'... Can I not simply leave under an illusion?'

"I think I speak for everyone when I say we will all sleep a little easier tonight, knowing that your focus has turned to music," Sally Floyd said lightly, dragging some laughter from the crowd. The ten or so minutes she had spent talking to the former villainess had done wonders to give them time to calm down.

"But your surprise visit has distracted me from the main focus of the night." The show host, possibly also sensing Priscilla's hesitancy, had spent considerable time getting as much as she could from the Spirit Ash, but she could only delay the main show for so long. Sally faced the crowd, giving the crossbreed a few more seconds to gather herself.

"She's been kind enough to keep quiet while we get our questions answered, but we all know what she sounds like. The one who killed Tohu. The dragon princess in the tower. Consort to the Elden Lord. Streamer, singer, and the reason we are all here: Priscilla!" The crowd went wild, hooting and hollering, stamping their feet or waving flags. Beast Boy was waving around a shirt with Priscilla's face on it.

'If you really want to, I will help you leave,' Mikael said gently, in contrast to the noise that shook the room.

'I promised to support you all. But I think you'd regret it. You were so excited to do this. To meet your fans. To sing. We can always try again, but giving up now will hurt you.'

'... Will thee sing for me again? Whilst I do this?'

'Sure. Any preference? Something to get your adrenaline going? That always helped me with my fear.'

'The lullaby. The first song thee gifted me.' When Mikael didn't answer for a second, Priscilla remembered it had been millions of years for him, and he might not remember which she spoke of.

'T'was the one-''I have it,' Mikael interrupted her gently.

'I don't know too many lullabies, so it was easy to remember. I was just slightly surprised and had to leave Emma to direct things while I did this. Your cue is coming up.'

'Are thou certain I can-''I am.' There was a certainty in his voice that welled Priscilla's chest with pride and sent her tail wagging slightly.

'You can do this. You will do this. I'll be here the entire time.'

'My thanks.' Mikael didn't answer, his voice ringing melodiously in her mind as his soothing words calmed her heart.

'Lay down Your sweet and weary head The night is falling You have come to journey's end Sleep now And dream of the ones who came before They are calling From across the distant shore.' The familiar music, her favourite song, calmed Priscilla's heart. She took a deep breath, stilling her tail as she looked out at that crowd that was only now starting to calm down. A crowd that had come for her. Their eyes still scared her, and she might still fail and shame her Family, but she wasn't alone.

This was not the Painted World of Ariamis. This was her Family's world. Her world.

"Before anything else," Sally finally addressed the crossbreed once relative silence had fallen.

"I wanted to thank you. Personally. When Tohu appeared above New York, I thought that was it. I was going to die. Thank you for killing the last Endbringer."

'One. Two. Fuck it.'

"Thy thanks are appreciated but unnecessary," Priscilla answered gently, and even she was surprised by the lack of stutter.

"My Family and thy defenders did most of the work. I simply dealt the final blow. Many others could have done the same."

"While I very much doubt that," Sally chuckled good-naturedly, as did a few crowd members.

"You don't need me to flatter you. We're not here for that. Instead, we are here to get to know you. Priscilla. Why don't you tell us about yourself? Help us get to know the woman behind the screen, so to speak."

"What dost thou wish to know?"

"Too much to fit in the time we have," Sally joked, getting a few more chuckles from the crowd.

"Why don't we start with something simple? Is this your first time in the Big Apple?"

"Apple?" Priscilla tilted her head, and there was more laughter from the crowd.

"Well, I guess that answers the question.

'Big Apple' is a nickname for New York," Sally explained kindly to the confused crossbreed.

"It is a nickname meaning the biggest and best city."

"How quaint," Priscilla said lightly, smiling at the crowd.

"Yes, this is my first time in the 'Big Apple.' It is the first city I have visited on this planet. The crowd cheered loudly, which redoubled again when the hostess asked them to give Priscilla a 'big, New York welcome.' Priscilla took the moment to get lost in the music again.

"I hope we haven't disappointed," Sally asked once calm had returned to the room.

"I would hate for your first Earth City experience to be a bad one."

"Oh no, it is quite impressive. That mortals could build something so large and expansive without the aid of the gods would have been inconceivable in my world."

"Why don't you tell us more about your world then? What was it like?" This was a topic Priscilla could answer relatively easily, and for a time, she lost herself in talking about what she had seen as a young girl. She spoke of the majesty of Anor Londo, the halls she once stalked invisible, the intricacies of the court and the radiance of the Age of Fire. The gods, the magic, and the wonder a young Priscilla had felt when she beheld it all before she was cloistered away in the painting.

"It sounds wonderful," Sally sighed.

"A real fairy tale. But the Elden Lord told a different story. One where the world was ending. Would you be willing to elaborate on that?"

"I am afraid I cannot," Priscilla shook her head, and, at the disappointed look of the woman, she elaborated.

"By the time the fires had truly faded, and the Dark Sign branded the undead, I had been confined to the Painted World. All I knew of the outside world came from the few others that joined me in my confinement. Before they went hollow, at least."

"That must have been hard," Sally said sympathetically.

"How long were you trapped?"

"Centuries at least. Possibly millennia. I know not the exact amount. But I could have left, so it was a prison of my choosing, of a fashion."

"Why didn't you?"

"The Painted World was peaceful," Priscilla smiled slightly at the memory.

"While the hollows and other beasts trapped within were hostile to others, they never treated me poorly. It was beautiful, too. I never tired of the ever-falling snow. I would sit and watch it for days or weeks. It was a prison, yes, but it was also a refuge from the world's conflict."

"Then the Elden Lord showed up? Swept you off your feet and took you away in a whirlwind romance?" Sally asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Miss Floyd!" Priscilla gasped, scandalized as her face flushed. The crowd and the hostess laughed.

"Nothing so crass."

"Sorry." Despite the apology, the hostess looked utterly unrepentant.

"But how can that count as crass? I've seen you talk smack on your streams."

"T'is different," Priscilla explained quickly, starting to feel a bit more comfortable now that she wasn't being booed off the stage.

"Propriety is important, but so is communication. T'is simply the language of the competition. If some fool wishes to spam cheap moves, I will 'lay a bitch out,' as they say." The crowd howled in amusement even as Ciara covered her face with a hand and Frost pursed her lips in displeasure. Even Mikael's singing in her mind was momentarily paused as he giggled to himself.

Any hope of a quick return to quiet was undone when Grundy, with the slow, ponderous movements he was known for, extended a hand and gave the crossbreed an enormous thumbs up. Everyone went wild. It took minutes before the hostess managed to get enough control over the crowd again for the interview to continue.

"I've caught a few of your shows," Sally eventually said once peace had been restored.

"I am not a big fan of video games, I'll admit. But your music? I could listen to you sing for hours."

"My thanks," Priscilla murmured shyly, a bit of embarrassment coming back at the compliment even as her tail started to trace circles on the back of the couch.

"I am pleased that so many enjoy my performance, lacking as it may be."

"I can call your music a lot of things, but certainly not lacking." The crowd cheered the hostess' words, and she continued.

"You have a beautiful voice. Why do you think it is lacking?"

"Compared to Sir Bard," Priscilla shook her head without saying more.

'A reminder that I am cheating,' Mikael chimed in her mind as he finished a song and started another. A folk ballad she had yet to hear. He always knew her tastes.

"I don't know about that," Sally sing songed.

"In fact, don't we have a few clips of you two together?" In response, one of the giant screens behind the stage lit up with a short clip of one of her streams. Mikael had joined her for a few minutes and, after speaking to the chat, had sang a duet with her as they played together. They only played thirty seconds of the song, but Priscilla closed her eyes to listen to it with a smile as the voice in her head paused.

'So they give and they take'Til their silly hearts break Looking down from above I'm intrigued by their love So let's call Let's call!' As the song ended, the crowd erupted in cheers once more, and Sally looked back at Priscilla.

"I don't know about you, but neither of those voices sounded 'lacking' to me."

"Singing with Sir Bard remains my favourite pastime," Priscilla allowed with a tilt of her head.

"He brings out the best in me."

"Don't tell the rest of your Familly," Sally leaned forward as if to whisper a secret.

"You two are my favourites. I would love to see you sing together. But," she leaned back again.

"He, unlike you, does not wish to perform live?"

"T'is so," Priscilla nodded.

"While my Lord has no issue with the crowd, and anyone is free to listen when he does choose to sing, he sings for himself. I am lucky to be one of the few he sings with."

"Why did you decide you wanted to start a music career?" Sally Floyd asked.

"I can't imagine our modern pop stars or celebrities are what you are used to."

"Indeed, they are not," Priscilla agreed easily.

"But the form did not matter to me. T'was just mine selfish wish to impart a small measure of the joy music has brought to my life to the rest of the world. I have been fortunate to have the aid of my Family and Miss Frost in this endeavour."

"That is beautiful. And you, Ms. Frost," Sally asked, turning towards the mutant.

"What made you sign up Priscilla so quickly?"

"It is simply a good move," Frost answered with a slight smile that was as lovely as it was dangerous.

"She is incredibly skilled, as you mentioned, and if Frost Records wishes to establish itself in the crowded industry, it must rely on the talent of our artists to carry us. Getting her off the ground quickly was the least of the support we could provide." For as kind as Sally Floyd had been with Priscilla, she did not give the CEO the same cutesy and pressed. She was too used to dealing with the rich and powerful trying to spin stuff in their favor.

"It was quite a gamble. It's only been a few months since the Elden Lord's arrival, less than that since Priscilla has started streaming. To get everything set up, you would have had to invest heavily. Why the quick turnaround? Why the hurry?"

"It was not only good business, which is all about seizing opportunities before the competition. It also suited my goals."

"Which are?" Sally Floyd continued to press. Priscilla was taking a moment to recompose herself so she wasn't watching as Emma Frost said the words that set the internet on fire.

"To be the Elden Lord's thirteenth consort, of course."

It was too slow. Too slow too slow too slow too slow. With an idle hand, Nathaniel Essex reached up to scratch between his eyes. He was careful to use the appendage without blood on it as he hated the feeling of the crimson liquid running down his back. The other hand was occupied holding down the struggling form of Riptide, the mutant struggling fiercely in Mister Sinister's grip. All Essex could feel was a disappointment as he looked at his Marauder.

He was a failure, regressing into bestial instincts rather than evolving and becoming greater. Too many of his pawns were like that, failing to maintain control in the wake of the Blood's power. But why? What differentiated the successes from the failures? And why was it taking so damn long! He had been spreading the Blood around the world for weeks now. Disguised as Sanguine but also in every source of drinking water he could get his hands on, and nothing was happening.

The Blood diluted into the water taking longer than the direct injections was expected. Still, those who took the medicine were not showing any reactions he was expecting except healing and a slight increase in baseline abilities. So what was the difference? The itch between his fourth brow satisfied, Essex slit Riptide's neck with a swipe of his claw, the warm spray of arterial blood calming him slightly. He needed to think logically. What was different within his lab, the Cadmus lab, and the public?

It wasn't the subject matter. His marauders had started undergoing transformation at the same rate as the Cadmus scientists, though the percentage that fell to beast-hood was lower due to his careful selection of pawns. It wasn't a difference between homo superior and homo sapiens. With an idle flick, his claw tore open the Marauder's chest and dislodged the liver. It was undamaged, of course. Essex was a scientist, first and foremost. He didn't damage specimens. Or food.

Even as he ate, the mutant geneticist continued to ponder the problem, enjoying how the blood covered him. So long as it didn't get his back, its warmth helped him think more clearly. What affected the speed of transformation? Whether it was to beast or kin, something had to be the trigger. But what? It was as he tossed Riptide to the twenty or so Maneater boars that Essex had a hypothesis.

"External Blood based stimuli?" He murmured to himself as he picked a scrap of liver from in between his fangs. It made sense. Sinister had been dosing the Cadmus scientists for over a week, but they only started transforming when he let loose a Maneater boar in the midst. Only once they began fighting and fleeing for their lives did they start to turn into beasts. Did the Blood need to be incubated in another host first?

Did it trigger a reaction when it came into contact with the Blood in the subject's body if the Blood came from another subject? When had his first Maurader transformed? Essex didn't even note how weird it was to ask himself that question, as he was usually incredibly detailed and thorough with his experiments. It had been Arclight, hadn't it? She had been training with Scrambler when she tore an arm off.

It was one of a dozen clones, so Sinister hadn't given it much thought until Arclight had started tearing into the other mutant with a ferocity that was uncharacteristic. She had grown three more arms and an extra eye in the following hour. It was a eureka moment for the mutant supremacist. Of course! Evolution required conflict. It required the elimination of the unsuitable. It needed Blood to be spilled. Despite his Eyes, Essex had been blind. No more!

But, if his goal was to ascend humanity past its weakness to evolve, how would he ensure the most lavish spread of bloodshed? He needed a war. A bloody one. But how to start one without those pesky heroes flying in to stop it? They were busy in the wake of Heartbreak, but they would still stop anything before it grew to the scale Essex needed for humanity's ascension.... Unless the Supers were the ones to start the war. The thought was insidious, but it pleased him.

And he had a pawn perfectly placed to do just that. One he had discarded after the death of Jean Grey and the failure of his plans to merge it with the Summers bloodline. Yes, the plan was coming together nicely. There wasn't a hero in the world who would not rise to the challenge of rescuing a newborn infant. And if he played it right, Essex would gain the Phoenix Force under his control. If he failed, his failure could be turned into a success. He just needed a catalyst. Fear and panic would do the rest.

Humanity would evolve. Within his lab, Nathaniel Essex let out a rumbling growl of pleasure as he contemplated a vision of the future as clear as day to his Eyes. It was the closest thing to a laugh he could manage now. He never once asked himself how he knew who was the current host of the Phoenix Force.