Esdeath leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Emma work. It had been three days since they'd escaped Vincent's compound, and Emma had wasted no time establishing her new domain.
The private office they'd secured—through methods Esdeath hadn't asked about—occupied the top floor of a nondescript building in Manhattan's financial district. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, but Emma's attention remained fixed on the three computer screens before her. Her fingers danced across keyboards while her eyes occasionally unfocused, a telltale sign she was extending her consciousness elsewhere.
White dominated the space—from Emma's tailored suit to the minimalist furniture. Even the technology seemed to gleam with pristine purpose. Esdeath found herself admiring the aesthetic precision of it all, so different from her own chaotic methods.
"Vincent had quite the network," Emma murmured without looking up. "Shell companies within shell companies. Offshore accounts nested like Russian dolls."
Esdeath pushed off the doorframe and approached. "Can you track it all?"
"Already have." Emma's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "His empire is impressively complex but fundamentally fragile. One thread pulled here..." She tapped a screen displaying what looked like financial records. "And everything unravels."
As Esdeath watched, Emma's eyes unfocused again. The temperature in the room seemed to drop slightly—not from Esdeath's powers, but from the sheer concentration radiating from the telepath.
"What are you doing?" Esdeath asked, genuinely curious.
"Visiting an old friend." Emma's voice was distant. "Gerald Meyers, Vincent's primary attorney. He's currently having a crisis of conscience about certain documents in his possession."
On one screen, a video feed showed a middle-aged man in an expensive suit sitting at a desk, looking troubled. He opened a drawer, hesitated, then removed a flash drive. After staring at it for several long moments, he picked up his phone.
"He's calling a federal prosecutor he went to law school with," Emma narrated, her voice returning to normal as her eyes refocused. "Offering to turn state's evidence in exchange for immunity. The drive contains details of Vincent's offshore accounts, tax evasion schemes, and several murders he ordered."
Esdeath raised an eyebrow. "You made him do that?"
"I merely... amplified his existing doubts." Emma's tone was casual, as if discussing the weather. "Gerald has suspected for years that Vincent was involved in human trafficking. He's justified his complicity by telling himself he didn't know for certain. I simply... removed that convenient fiction from his mind."
"Efficient," Esdeath commented, impressed despite herself.
Emma turned to another screen. "Now for the money."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, accessing banking portals through credentials Esdeath suspected weren't legally obtained. As Emma worked, her expression shifted subtly—a slight narrowing of the eyes, a faint tightening around the mouth. Signs of telepathic exertion that most would miss.
"Marcus Donovan, regional manager at First Atlantic Bank," Emma said. "Currently experiencing a moment of professional diligence regarding suspicious activity in several high-value accounts."
On screen, banking records displayed a series of red flags and holds being placed on various accounts.
"Assets frozen pending investigation," Emma continued. "By tomorrow morning, Vincent won't be able to access a single penny of his fortune."
Esdeath watched in fascination. Where her own approach would have involved ice blades and frozen corpses, Emma orchestrated Vincent's downfall without leaving her chair—or spilling a drop of blood.
"You're dismantling him completely," Esdeath observed.
"Of course." Emma swiveled in her chair to face Esdeath directly. "You removed the head; I'm salting the earth. Vincent's criminal empire needs to be thoroughly destroyed, not just decapitated."
"Why not just make his lieutenants kill each other? Wouldn't that be faster?"
Emma's laugh was light but sharp. "Brute force is for when finesse fails, darling. Mass murder attracts attention. This way, the authorities do our cleanup work for us, and we remain ghosts."
She turned back to her screens, pulling up communications between Vincent's former associates.
"Besides," Emma continued, "there's a certain poetry in watching them scatter like rats." Her fingers tapped commands, sending false information through encrypted channels. "A whisper here about betrayal, a hint there about federal informants... They're already turning on each other."
Esdeath moved closer, studying the cascade of destruction Emma was orchestrating. "You don't find it... wrong? Manipulating their minds like this?"
Emma paused, considering the question with surprising seriousness. "Would you find it wrong to use your ice against an armed attacker?"
"No. That's self-defense."
"This is self-preservation," Emma countered. "These men would hunt us both if they could. They've murdered, trafficked, and destroyed lives without remorse. I'm simply using the most effective weapon at my disposal."
Esdeath nodded slowly. "I kill because it's efficient. Clean. Final."
"And I manipulate because it's precise. Untraceable. Comprehensive." Emma's blue eyes met Esdeath's. "We're not so different in our pragmatism, just in our methods."
"I don't pretend there are no ethical questions," Esdeath said bluntly. "I know what I am."
"As do I." Emma's voice cooled. "I've been used, Esdeath. Controlled. Violated in ways you can't imagine. I refuse to apologize for ensuring it never happens again."
The tension between them thickened, then dissolved as Emma deliberately softened her expression.
"Besides," she added, "my way leaves fewer bodies for you to dispose of."
That earned a short laugh from Esdeath. "Practical."
"Always." Emma closed several windows on her screens and opened a new set of documents. "Now for the future."
The documents displayed legal incorporation papers, business licenses, and financial projections for something called "Frost International."
"Our front?" Esdeath asked.
"Our foundation." Emma's voice carried a note of genuine pride. "A legitimate business empire that will fund everything we build. Technology development, property management, and private security services."
"Security services?"
"A convenient cover for recruiting powered individuals." Emma pulled up architectural plans for a building. "And this will be our headquarters. I've already begun negotiations for the property."
Esdeath studied the plans—a sleek tower with hidden reinforcements and security features disguised as architectural elements.
"You've thought of everything," she said, not bothering to hide her admiration.
"I've had a year in captivity to plan my resurrection." Emma's smile was cold but victorious. "Vincent gave me nothing but time to imagine his downfall and my rise."
She opened one final document—a list of names, locations, and abilities.
"Potential recruits," she explained. "Mutants who don't fit Xavier's vision of peaceful coexistence or Magneto's revolutionary zeal. The lost, the damaged, the pragmatic."
Esdeath scanned the list, recognizing some names from her previous life's knowledge of Marvel comics. Others were unfamiliar—new mutants emerging in this timeline.
"This is... comprehensive," she said.
"I've been inside Vincent's files. He kept extensive records on mutants he hoped to exploit." Emma's expression darkened momentarily. "We'll reach them first."
As Emma continued working, Esdeath reflected on the last three days. She'd expected to be the dominant force in their partnership—the muscle, the power, the threat. Instead, she found herself witnessing a different kind of strength. Emma Frost didn't freeze enemies solid or create ice warriors, but she was dismantling Vincent's criminal empire with surgical precision.
Without violence. Without detection. Without mercy.
It was terrifying in its own way—perhaps more so than Esdeath's abilities. Ice could be fought, dodged, melted. But how did you fight someone who could turn your own mind against you? Who could rewrite your thoughts without leaving fingerprints?
Emma glanced up, catching Esdeath's expression. "Having second thoughts about our partnership?"
"No." Esdeath shook her head. "Just realizing I underestimated you."
"Most do." Emma closed her laptops with a decisive click. "It's an advantage I cultivate."
She stood, smoothing her immaculate white suit, and moved to the window. The city sprawled below them, a maze of opportunities and threats.
"By this time tomorrow, Vincent's empire will be in ashes," Emma said. "His assets either frozen or diverted to our new venture. His allies scattered or imprisoned. And no one will ever connect it to us."
She turned, backlit by the city lights, her expression coolly triumphant.
"So," Emma asked, "who's next on your list?"