Marvel: The Infinite Crown

{Chapter: 125 - Mind Control}

"I won't lie. It's stressful. It's lonely. And yes… I want help. Your help."

Aiden's gaze remained fixed, unmoved.

Emma took another breath and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "With you by my side—even if just symbolically—it changes the game. You're unpredictable. Dangerous. Powerful Influential People talk about you in whispers. That's a kind of power even I can't buy."

"And in return?" Aiden asked.

"You grow stronger. With fewer obstacles. Fewer enemies. You get backing—political, economic, mystical. Access to resources the X-Men and Brotherhood would kill for. And," she added with a teasing smile, "a few luxuries along the way. Surely a man like you doesn't mind a little indulgence."

Aiden chuckled faintly. "It's a smart pitch. You even sound almost unselfish."

Emma's lips curled. "Don't insult me with flattery, dear. I'm always selfish. That's what makes me effective."

Aiden's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—something that resembled admiration.

"Clever. Manipulative. Grace under fire," he said. "I can see why people fear you."

She tilted her head, intrigued. "So… is that a yes?"

Aiden stood slowly, brushing a nonexistent wrinkle off his sleeve. "No."

The room chilled slightly.

Emma blinked. "No?"

He nodded once. "I'm not interested in joining."

Emma's brows furrowed. "Why not? You understand the advantages. The protection. The resources, anyone you name it. There's nothing we've held back."

Aiden turned to her fully now, voice as sharp as steel. "Because I don't need a woman's protection. Or anyone's."

Azazel stirred from the corner, his yellow eyes narrowing.

Aiden continued, voice colder than before. "You think I need backup to survive the storm? I am the storm. Anyone who comes for me thinking I'm alone will choke on their own arrogance."

He paused, stepping toward the glass door and glancing at Blink—her mind still under Emma's subtle psychic leash.

"But you've got something I want," Aiden murmured. "Sincerity."

Emma's eyes flicked upward. "Excuse me?"

"I don't trust words," he said. "I trust actions. And if you really want me to reconsider your offer… show me you mean it."

Emma arched a brow, rising from her seat slowly, cautiously. "And what would that look like to you?"

Aiden didn't answer with words.

His left eye shifted, the sclera turning pitch black, devouring the iris in a surge of void-like power. Emma felt it. The sudden pulse of something invasive brush against her mind like a cold blade. She flinched, instinctively preparing to counter a telepathic attack—but it didn't come.

Instead, something subtler slid into place.

She blinked—and her body moved without her permission. She poured a glass of wine, her hands graceful and obedient. Then she walked it toward Aiden, hips swaying slightly, and offered it up with a practiced elegance that unnerved even herself.

"What the—" Azazel's voice snapped from the corner, boiling over.

Aiden smirked, amused by the dissonance. "Just this? That's your sincerity?"

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I've heard there's a more... entertaining way to share a drink. What if you poured it into your mouth… and fed it to me from there?"

Emma's hand froze.

Azazel's eyes flared with rage. The air shimmered as if ready to combust.

"You dare—"

"Your courting death!!" he bellowed, stepping forward with teleportation energy crackling behind his fists.

Aiden didn't flinch. He simply raised a hand and said calmly, "Touch me, and I'll break every bone in your body before you finish blinking."

The air thickened with tension.

"He dared to order the White Queen to feed him mouth-to-mouth?" Azazel's voice was heavy with disbelief and outrage. His crimson skin seemed to shimmer with a hellish glow as his tail flicked in irritation. "That's not flirtation—that's an insult to the Hellfire Club!"

With a guttural snarl, Azazel vanished in a burst of sulfur and brimstone. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Aiden, claws already extended, aiming for a fatal strike to the back of the neck.

He wasn't alone.

From the shadows, Journey—one of the Hellfire Club's more enigmatic mutants—stepped forward, her aura flaring with volatile psychic energy. Her eyes glowed with unfiltered aggression, ready to follow Azazel's lead.

But Aiden had expected them.

Without turning, Aiden lazily waved his hand behind him as if brushing off an annoying fly. In an instant, a razor-thin whirlwind of spiraling force howled into existence, intercepting Azazel mid-strike. The red-skinned demon reacted fast, teleporting again—this time to Aiden's side, planning to skewer him with a sweep of his tail.

Too slow.

With a sudden flash of dark green light, a massive warhammer materialized in Aiden's hand. The air crackled as energy surged through it. With a single, brutal swing—

BANG!!

The hammer crashed down like a meteor, slamming Azazel into the marble floor. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the impact, and in that instant, the hammer's form twisted and elongated, transforming into a glowing cage of hard light that pinned Azazel to the ground.

He growled and vanished in another puff of smoke—only to reappear inside the cage, slamming into its invisible walls with a frustrated grunt.

"What—?!" Azazel bared his fangs. "I can't teleport out?!"

He tried again—once, twice, a dozen times—each time blinking into his interdimensional subspace and failing to re-emerge beyond the boundaries of the glowing prison. Sweat formed on his brow as panic crept in.

Unlike Blink's clean and elegant portals that sliced directly through space-time, Azazel's teleportation moved through an intermediary brimstone-dimension—his own —before projecting him elsewhere. But the cage was forged with a stone of unlimited power that severed the spatial bridge, locking him in between dimensions. It wasn't just a prison—it was a countermeasure specifically designed for beings that teleport like him

Aiden didn't even look back. His eyes were now fixed on Frederick Slade.

Slade rushed toward Blink, assuming her to be the weakest link—but he had gravely underestimated her. Blink narrowed her eyes and flicked her wrist. A glowing shard of pink crystal flared from her fingers, piercing through the air and opening a portal behind her. She blinked out of sight, appearing behind Slade mid-charge.

She grinned. "You're too slow."

Another portal. Another teleport. She was everywhere at once—on his left, then behind him, then above.

Slade grunted. His physique was impressive, honed through years of combat. A super-soldier by every definition, his speed and strength rivaled even Steve Rogers. But Blink wasn't fighting with brawn—she was bending space itself.

Slade doesn't have any abilities, he only has high endurance, strength, speed, stamina etc the usual superhero package at minimum level. simply put, he is similar to captain America, he is a close combat fighter. It seems he could preview but it has no effects on Blink.

She hurled a crystalline blade, Slade ducked—but the blade disappeared and reappeared in front of him.

Thunk!

It grazed his armor, and a gash opened across his side. He turned, furious, only to see Blink vanish again.

"She's improved," he muttered.

That much was true. Following Aiden had accelerated her growth exponentially. Her timing, coordination, and creativity with her portals now verged on precognitive.

Meanwhile, Aiden adjusted the cuff of his coat, as if swatting away the inconvenience that had been Azazel. He turned his attention back to the elegantly composed Emma Frost, standing in front of him.

Emma stared at him, face expressionless, but her mind was spinning. She had watched the whole scene unfold—how easily Aiden had handled Azazel, how Blink had neutralized Slade. They weren't pushovers by any means.

Without breaking eye contact, she took the glass of wine on the table, brought it to her lips, and sipped.

Then she leaned forward and kissed him.

It was elegant. Controlled. Her lips met his with a cold precision, passing the wine into his mouth as told. And in that instant, she felt it—a shift in her consciousness. A subtle, almost imperceptible pressure around her mind.

Her body stiffened as she realized—he was controlling her. Not her body—her will.

Aiden released her waist and stepped back with a smirk. "You've been awake the whole time under my influence, haven't you? I thought a telepath of your caliber would resist faster. Disappointing."

Emma's eyes widened slightly. Her body shimmered, turning into sparkling diamond as she instinctively backed away. "Y-you… you can control minds?" she hissed, her voice tinged with something very rare—fear.

"I don't like to," Aiden replied casually. "But sometimes… it's necessary."

She clenched her fists. This wasn't just brute force—this was a strategic monster hiding behind a calm exterior.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Aiden said, bowing with theatrical grace. "The wine tasted excellent. Though I prefer my drinks not laced with manipulation, but I won't deny the lips."

*****

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