Marvel: A Symbiotic Life

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Emma Frost darted away from the room, getting out she breathed in. "Who does that bitch think she is." She huffed. She didn't exactly know what it was about Selena she didn't like, but whenever she spoke to her, she wanted to show that bitch her place. Breathing in, she relieved herself of the built-up tension she had been keeping during the meeting.

What she never would have guessed was that Emma was but a puppet, a chess piece, in Selena's play board. Unlike her, Selena didn't feel kinship to her fellow mutants, she was more of a self-minded, shameless and selfish person. Even now Emma and even Azazel were unaware of Selena's status as a mutant.

"Blink, if you would." She said as she glanced at the girl behind. Said girl was of Asian origin, with pink-white skin, and looked rather charming—even while wearing a hideous biker jacket that only she found cool. 'Well, everyone has their choices.'

"Yes." The girl said as she held Emma's shoulder, and as a blue neon light enveloped them, teleporting both of them to her school, her home. The only place where she could find peace. Getting away from that place lifted her mood up.

"Go and inform the students that I won't be returning tomorrow." She said, rubbing her forehead.

Blink raised an eyebrow at her comment. "And why is that?"

"Just another work-meeting." Emma said, sighing. As she sat on the sofa she poured herself a glass of cold water. "With the Hand no less, I would appreciate it if you could come with me. Even the Kingpin will be there, and I don't trust him. Your powers may come in handy, if we run into the Panther or any other problems for that matter." She said after drinking. Blink was a teleporter that was more powerful than Azazel, in a few ways. While Azazel could only teleport himself to where he sees, she could teleport anywhere as long as she had been to said place. She could also create portals that could teleport others directly from one place to another. While Azazel could teleport to far away locations, it would take him a minute or two for him to do it. And a minute was a luxury in battle. But Azazel was also a master in hand to hand combat, he had his own way to use his ability offensively.

The girl shrugged, "Sure, I have nothing to do tomorrow." She said. "By the way, could you check up on the kid? He's been having his…problems, lately."

Emma nodded, that boy needed her help. It was almost a wonder as to how he survived the fire that day. That day fire took away the boy's parents, his six years old little sister, leaving him orphaned. And because of his powers manifesting then and there, the boy blamed himself for his parent's death. But his powers were not the cause of the fire, she checked it herself. His powers were rather weird, even she couldn't read his mind, his powers were related to evolution or adaptability. That was the reason the boy was code-named Darwin.

Walking out of her office, she walked to the boy's dorm room. The other kids were happy to see their big sister return. She waved, smiling, at the hello's and smiles she got from her students, and wondered that being a teacher wasn't all bad. Maybe that was why the bald professor enjoyed having a school of his own. But unlike him, she wasn't delusional; she made this place so that young mutants could stay safe, and be happy. She now had the powers and influence to do so. So, why not help them?

In a way, she was more like Magneto in that part. But that man had his own problems. He was too pro-mutant for her liking. If he truly wanted to control the world. Then why not join them in the Hell-Fire Club. But no, he was just as dense as the metal he controlled, always doing right things at the wrong times.

She sighed, thinking about the rather two old friends. She was in front of the boy's room. Clearing her throat, she knocked at the wooden door. After a while, the door opened, showing an African-American kid of fourteen years old. The fickle on his skin started showing up, puberty was harsh on him. She wondered how that worked with his powers.

"What?!" he asked, looking, no, almost glaring at her. She raised an eyebrow. Now she was sure it was puberty. Her thin lips curled into a smile, looking at him.

"I was told, you were having problems." She said as she entered his room, even if the boy protested. The boy was a head shorter than her, with short black hair and thin body. He looked as normal as a teenager could get.

"Sis, I don't need that—why don't you just give me some space." He sighed, but all fell into her deaf ears. As the lady in white strolled across his room, looking at the new paintings he made. The paintings were odd, showcasing a dead hand that rose from the ground pointing at the sky, burned purple-skin barely hanging from the bones. A few gold patterns were melted into his burned skin.

Above the said hand were six different lights, each showcasing their own magnificent colors, fighting for dominance for space in the white canvas. The lights were almost solidified in some form of stones if her imagination worked correctly.

Looking at the detailed painting, she frowned, looking back at the teenager who was standing near the wall. The same wall that held the picture of his lost family. She felt a tinge of sadness for the boy. Losing one's family at an early age was hard, very hard. She knew that from experience; it had been what, six-months, it wasn't a lot of time to recover from the loss of loved ones. But it was enough time to recuperate oneself.

"Didn't know you were a painter?" she said, as she sat on the wooden chair, flapping her white overcoat.

"So did I." He said, not looking at her, more so to his family painting. "It's more of a power-thing."

"Okay." She hummed, looking around his room, getting bored. This kid, unlike others, was well mannered enough to tidy up his room, which didn't give her excuses to scold the boy. "Armando, you can tell me everything, you know." She said, sighing.

"That's not it, Sis." The boy looked back, shoulders down. A little more disturbed than usual.

"Hmm, Blink said you're having dreams, weird dreams." She said, already uncomfortable on the wooden chair. She wondered how people painted sitting on this four-legged chair.

"No." he replied. "This time the dream felt different. Almost real." He said, glancing at the painting. "It doesn't make any sense." He sighed.

'And here I thought you were having wet dreams,' she shrugged. "Well, we mutants are creatures that don't make sense." She said smiling. "Don't worry too much about it, it's good that you are even recovering from your nightmares." She said standing up ruffling his short hair. "By the way, what's the painting called?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, it's a good painting… name and sign it, oh and add the date as well." She said, showing a big-sisterly smile. "I have a few naming suggestions."

"Name?… hmm, I actually have one in mind." He said.

"And here I was brainstorming a few cool names." She said, faking her sadness. "So, what will it be called?"

"The Gauntlet of the Mad-Titan." He said, he himself was surprised at the name.

She whistled at the name, "I was going to name it sponge bob, but this works as well." She said. The boy didn't react. Maybe her sarcasm wasn't right. No, that can't be true. She was funny? Right? It must be the boy who doesn't have a sense of humor. "Anyhow I won't come tomorrow, I will be in New York in a meeting. Just don't piss your pants if you see a nightmare."

"Hey! I haven't done that since I was four!" He protested.

'Ah… finally a reaction. So, only teasing works with this kid.' Emma concluded, as her thin lips curved into a smile.

The boy's eyes suddenly turned white, his eye pupil had gone missing. Emma quickly made his way towards the boy. The phenomena was only for a second. Before the boy's eye pupil returned. "You okay, Kid?" she asked.

The boy rubbed his head, nodding. "I don't feel so good." He said. "My powers have been acting up lately." He sighed as he supported himself, going towards his bed.

Emma looked at the boy. Maybe she should take him to the Professor, he might be able to help the boy. But then she might have to face Ororo. But if the boy's problem could be fixed, a few death stares was nothing. It was already late. She got out of the boy's room only after he slept. In a way, the boy looked up to her. Saw her as a sister, but only she knew what she was in truth. She wasn't proud of it or anything. But you have to make do with what you got.

Tomorrow was the meeting with the Hand members, and she wasn't worried in the least about it. Yet she felt some uneasiness about said meeting. As if something bad was going to happen.

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