Susan is nestled into the curve of my arm, her softness pressed against the steel-hardened muscle of mine in an oddly calming embrace. She fits there almost too perfectly, the subtle rise and fall of her breathing syncing with mine until, for a dangerous moment, I forget the ledger, the schemes, and the violence waiting outside these walls. Her lips hold the faintest upward curl, a whisper of contentment on her sleeping face, blissfully unaware of the warmth and security I'm allowing her to believe in. The Baxter Building — citadel of science, symbol of heroism — towers over us both, oblivious to the betrayal taking form within its gleaming halls.
My hand cups the gentle curve of her hip, fingers pressing into the thin fabric of her costume, the warmth beneath it a quiet temptation. In my mind's eye, the Conqueror's Ledger System stirs to life, its interface cascading across my vision in a cold, clinical blue glow. It runs its calculations without hesitation, listing her vital statistics, reminding me exactly what I've gained from these clandestine encounters — and exactly how much DP her presence has earned me.
Dinosaurus had been instrumental in all of this. The game we played together was far from innocent, and his mind, sharp as the serrated edge of a predator's tooth, had picked apart the Baxter Building's security like a carcass under his claws. He had cleared the way for me to walk straight into Susan's quarters, undetected, unseen. I can still recall the way he'd reacted when I first told him about my affair with Susan — that flicker of amusement in his reptilian eyes, the deep, rolling laugh that resonated through the floor and sealed the terms of our twisted alliance.
We had learned everything we needed: the Fantastic Four's patterns, their habits, their blind spots. We knew exactly where Reed would lose himself in his research, vanishing into hours that could stretch into days. We knew the moments when Susan became invisible not because of her powers, but because no one was paying her any attention. We knew when Ben Grimm took his city walks, and when Johnny Storm decided the nightlife was more interesting than home. I had mapped it all with the precision of a siege. And every time I visited her, every time I felt the rush of slipping past the edge of discovery, it hit me like the first taste of an addictive drug.
This time, Susan Storm had earned me more than a thrill. She'd bought me my newest perk — a prize that would set my name into the architecture of the Marvel Universe itself.
Trans-Material Evolution (CL 7.5, 2 Billion DP)
Your flesh, blood, and bone have been reconfigured into a fusion of exotic transmatter and organic tissue, placing you among the cosmic elite.
The moment the upgrade took hold, I felt it — a surge of energy so dense and alive it made my vision swim. My body was no longer flesh and bone alone. It was something greater, something stranger. A monstrosity even the gods would hesitate to challenge. Every cell within me now thrummed with power, each heartbeat like the slow toll of a war drum. When I flexed my fingers, I could feel the mass of the universe coiled inside them, waiting for my command. The HUD flared with new readouts, numbers climbing in dizzying leaps, recalculating my worth in ways that almost made me laugh.
Susan shifted in her sleep beside me, the motion subtle but enough to catch my attention. Her breath hitched, as if she could sense the change in the air. And that was when the Butcher's Voice came — low, hungry, insistent. It urged me to take the final step, to claim the DP that would be mine if I broke her delicate body right here and now. The temptation was sharp, like the gleam of a blade in low light. But I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached and shoved the thought into the dark recess it came from. I am Conquest, and I choose my battles.
I began the slow process of pulling away from her, extricating myself from the tangle of her arms without waking her. But she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, the fog of sleep softened her gaze — and then it sharpened, the warmth giving way to something else: fear, longing, the anticipation of loss.
"You're leaving?" Her voice was barely audible, a thread of sound in the stillness.
"Yes," I said, keeping my tone low and rough, "but I'll return."
Her hands trembled as she reached for me, fingers brushing against the air where I'd been moments before. "Why? What's so important out there that you can't stay?"
"Reed," I murmured, my thumb tracing the line of her cheek. "And the world. This isn't a romance novel."
Her jaw tightened, the Invisible Woman stepping into the space the vulnerable Susan had vacated. "It could be," she said, her chin quivering even as her voice steadied. "If you wanted it to be."
The Butcher's Voice coiled tighter in my mind, urging me to crush her hope, to take and take until there was nothing left. I shoved it down, focusing on the faint, stubborn ember of something human that still flickered inside me.
"I have things to do, Sue," I said, brushing the back of my hand along her cheek before letting it fall. "Things that require my full attention."
I rose from the bed, the cold air rushing over me like a bucket of water. The HUD flickered again, outlining the night's objectives in crisp blue lines. The Butcher's Voice hummed its approval as I changed into a plain polo shirt and loose-fitting slacks — a disguise so ordinary it felt like mockery against the storm in my veins.
I bent over her one last time, pressing my forehead to hers. She closed her eyes at the contact, her body relaxing fractionally, her breathing slowing. But it was a lie — a gentle deceit, a balm to ease the sting of my absence. The warmth of her skin seeped into me, tempting me to linger. But the Conqueror's Ledger glowed in my peripheral vision, unblinking, reminding me of the greater game.
The halls of the Baxter Building stretched ahead, silent and immaculate. Shadows clung to the walls, the polished surfaces reflecting faint glimmers of light from distant labs. My footsteps were soundless as I made my way to Dinosaurus's quarters, the System nudging me forward with each step.
The door groaned open to reveal him hunched over a bank of holoscreens, claws darting through streams of data, reorganizing ecosystems with precision that belied his massive frame.
"Ah, Conquest," he said, looking up with that slow, predatory smile. "Right on time."
The room was a study in contradictions: the gleaming edge of advanced technology tangled with the fossilized remains of worlds long dead. Holograms spun in the air, fragile models of oceans, forests, and deserts shifting beneath his touch.
"Reed and Ben have been… enlightening," he rumbled. "Their knowledge of Earth's systems is vast. But their vision—" he sneered "—is small. They cling to what they believe must be preserved, blind to what must be destroyed."
I tilted my head. "And what have you learned from them?"
"They speak of balance," he said, almost spitting the word, "but where is the beauty in destruction? Where is the thrill of watching worlds burn?"
I leaned on the doorframe, my rebuilt body humming with anticipation. "Do they listen?"
His chuckle vibrated through the floor. "Reed sees me as a curiosity, a relic with an unusual mind. Ben sees me as kin — another agent of chaos."
I couldn't deny my respect for his craft. He'd woven himself into their trust with such subtlety they didn't even see it happening. Even the Butcher's Voice, for once, was quiet in admiration.
But Johnny Storm was a different matter. He was the wild card — suspicion simmering just beneath the surface. He'd seen the way Susan smiled too brightly when my name came up, how she lingered when I passed. He watched me, his gaze like heat on the back of my neck. He hadn't acted yet, but I could feel the moment coming.
Leaving Dinosaurus to his plotting, I made my way toward the conference center. Low voices carried through the air before I reached the door. Inside, Reed Richards was stretched over a holographic map, his form bending and twisting in impossible lines. Opposite him stood Abigail Brand, arms crossed, eyes sharp as blades.
"Conquest," Reed said without looking up for long. "Unexpected."
Abigail's gaze locked onto me immediately. "You know there are new security measures?"
"I noticed more drones," I replied evenly.
Reed straightened, his elongated frame folding back into something human-shaped. "Your new energy signature has drawn attention," he said, glancing between us. "Security's changed."
Abigail's voice cut through, cold and precise. "There have been unexplained surges near the Baxter Building. They trace back to you."
The Butcher's Voice laughed in my ear. So much for subtlety.
"I promise, it's part of my research," I lied smoothly. "I'm working on new ways to channel my abilities — for the world's benefit."
Reed nodded slightly. "Abigail, he's been a valuable ally."
She didn't move. "I'm here for an evaluation. This isn't a social call."
Reed's tone tightened. "Conquest, you'll cooperate with her debrief."
"Of course," I said, forcing a smile.
Abigail closed the distance between us, her eyes sweeping from my head to my feet, searching for weakness. "Let's begin."
Later, on the rooftop, the city stretched before us — towers of steel and glass under the restless wind. The skyline seemed frozen, breath held.
"Your beginnings," she said, her words slicing through the night air. "I want the truth."
I leaned against the railing, the cold metal grounding me. "Origins are… complicated. I come from a world where power is everything. The weak are ground beneath the strong."
"I don't believe in fairy tales," she said.
I smiled, a mask as false as the flesh I wore. "Then take this as fact: I am the embodiment of conquest. The sum of a thousand wars, the will to dominate made flesh. A power so vast human minds can't truly comprehend it."