Marcus opened the door a couple of inches, wedging his boot against the bottom edge.
Three guys stood in the hallway.
They wore soaked hoodies and cheap sneakers, dragging in the sharp smell of stale weed and wet dog.
The newly downloaded memories instantly flagged two of them—local junkies who usually hung around the corner bodega.
He let out a slow, quiet breath.
“What do you want?” he asked.
The guy in the front wiped rain off his chin and grinned.
“Saw a girl come in the building. White streak in her hair. Looked real cold.”
“Wrong door.”
The guy leaned closer, trying to peek through the gap into the apartment.
“Come on, man. Don’t be greedy. We got party favors. Figured we come in, share the wealth. You can even go first.”
Instead of answering, he shifted his weight, brought the heavy steel pipe wrench out from behind his back, and tapped the metal head against the doorframe.
Clank.
“She’s my cousin.” His voice was dead flat.
“You have three seconds to turn around before I start breaking jaws.”
The guy looked at the steel wrench, then back up.
The grin vanished.
“Chill, man,” he muttered, taking a quick step back.
“Just being neighborly.”
The three of them shoved their hands into their pockets and shuffled down the hall toward the stairs.
Watching them turn the corner, Marcus shut the door, locked the deadbolt, and dropped his forehead against the peeling paint.
A short, dry laugh scraped out of his throat.
Out of all the world-ending threats roaming the city, he pulled a trio of brain-dead junkies.
He would take that kind of luck any day.
He pushed off the door and walked back into the room.
Marie was still dead asleep on the mattress, completely oblivious to the hallway.
Grabbing the flat, yellowed pillow, he tossed it onto the floorboards.
S.H.I.E.L.D., rogue mutants, and whatever Emma Frost was planning—that was all a problem for tomorrow.
Right now, he just needed to sleep.
He lay down, pulled his jacket tight against the chill, and closed his eyes.
…
Dull, gray morning light filtered through the dirty window.
Marcus blinked awake.
His back ached from the hard wood.
Marie was kneeling right next to him.
She was reaching her bare hand out, her fingers just inches from his face.
He snapped his arm up, catching her by the thick leather sleeve of her jacket before she could make contact.
She gasped and yanked her arm back, scrambling away until she hit the edge of the mattress.
She shoved her hands deep into her pockets, her chest heaving in a sudden panic.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered.
“You were shaking in your sleep. I was just trying to wake you.”
Marcus sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s fine. Just… be careful.”
He grabbed the cheap desk chair, spun it around, and sat facing her.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, watching him like a cornered animal.
Marcus didn’t say anything at first.
He just sat in the chair, letting the heavy silence stretch out in the small room.
He watched the way she kept her hands buried deep in her pockets, treating her own skin like a loaded weapon.
“Are you a mutant?” he asked.
Just like that.
No buildup.
Every muscle in Marie’s body locked up.
Her eyes darted toward the door, then dropped to the scuffed floorboards.
“I… I don’t know.”
“If the answer was no, you would have just said no,” Marcus said.
“So you are.”
She stared at the scuffed floorboards, pulling her arms tighter against her chest as a fresh tremor shook her shoulders.
Marcus leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“So what exactly do you expect from me? I don’t know you. You knocked on a stranger’s door in the middle of the night, and you’re clearly running from something bad. What am I supposed to do with that?”
Marie squeezed her eyes shut.
She took a shallow, shuddering breath, then slowly pushed herself off the edge of the mattress.
“Nothing,” she whispered.
She pulled the oversized leather jacket tighter around her frame, hiding her hands completely.
“You don’t have to do anything. Thank you for letting me sleep inside. I’ll just… I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
She turned away, taking a heavy step across the creaking floorboards toward the entryway.
Marcus stayed in the chair, watching her walk toward the door.
“Sure. Door’s right there,” he said, his tone entirely casual.
“But you should probably know what you’re walking into. Word around here is there are people actively hunting strays like you.”
Marie stopped.
Her boots stayed planted on the wood, her back to him.
“Not cops,” Marcus continued, spinning the lie smoothly.
“Private groups. Labs. They scoop up unregistered mutants who don’t have a family or a safety net, and take them away to see what makes them tick. Experiments. Dissections. They love runaway kids because nobody comes looking for them.”
Marie slowly turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder.
Her face was completely drained of color.
“You walk out that door right now,” Marcus said, keeping his voice perfectly level, “with zero cash, nowhere to hide, and zero control over whatever it is you do? They won’t even have to try hard to catch you.”
[Target Influenced: Marie. Psychological tether established.]
[Reward: +50 Merit Points. Current Balance: 60]
Marcus didn’t move a muscle.
He let the silence hang, watching the last bit of fight drain completely from Marie’s posture.
The psychological trap was set, and she had nowhere else to go.
Before she could open her mouth to surrender to the inevitable, another synthetic chime rang between his ears—sharper this time.
The pale text hovering behind her shoulder flickered, dissolving into a stream of static before snapping back into a crisp, expanded menu.
[System Shop: Inventory Cycle Updated.]
[Current Balance: 60 Merit Points]
[New Level 1 Purchases Available:]
[1….]