Seere Tower, Upper East Side, New York City
Monday July 6, 2007 - 9:04 am.
Phineas Mason, the greatest roboticist the world has ever known (Stark who?), stood in front of a floor to ceiling mirror on the wall of a 30th floor office. His appearance was flawless. His avocado brown herringbone blazer, elbow patches precisely sewn to the correct position for ultimate comfort, fit his shoulders snugly, the shoulderpads enhancing his frame effortlessly. His poly-blend permanent press creased harvest-gold trousers matched perfectly (which was the advantage of mostly wearing earth tones, after all). His starched pastel rose colored button up was laundered to perfection. The collar was dangerously sharp and precisely rested below his jacket.
His bright red bowtie, well, that was the masterpiece of the ensemble.
This was inconsequential in the long run. If Phineas’s brilliance wasn’t enough to convince these… businessmen… that he deserved to head his own department, then nothing would be.
Phineas finished adjusting his clothing, turned to the smart and minimalistic chairs in the waiting room while checking his watch, and climbed into one of them. His prospective employers were exactly four minutes and sixteen seconds late. If this was the standard of professionalism he could expect in this place…
Phineas’s thoughts were interrupted by the chime of the nearby elevator. Two figures rushed out into the hall. The first to enter was a well composed young woman with strawberry blonde hair in her mid to late twenties, dressed immaculately in a professional pantsuit. The second was a young man in a disheveled and ill fitting suit with a mop of brown hair on his head that looked like it just lost a fight with an unruly hair dryer.
“I can’t believe you made me late, Pete,” the woman whispered angrily as she rushed with her companion to the conference room that Phineas was standing by. The woman looked back at her companion, noticed the state of his clothes and hair, and promptly spat on her hands, “Oh my god, Pete, you’re a freaking disaster.”
The young woman took her spit covered hands and used them to smooth down the young man’s wild mane. Once it was smoothed properly she took the time to adjust his ill-fitting second hand suit, retied his tie, and promptly gave up once the cowlick on his head broke free from the prison she had attempted to banish it to.
“Listen Pete,” the woman continued while she made a second attempt at fixing… everything, “Just because you’re dating the CEO doesn’t mean you can slack off. Emma Frost is in that room. She’s probably seriously pissed at how late we are, and she’s one of the major shareholders in the company. Second only to the owner. She is not going to care how cute you look with your hair sticking up.”
The woman finally gave up, and the young man looked at her sheepishly, bringing his hand up to rub his head and ruining everything she had just accomplished.
“Sorry Liz, an emergency came up this morning, and…”
“It’s always excuses with you Pete,” Liz scolded, but the smirk on her face belied her mock anger, “I don’t want to hear it. Let’s get in there and knock ‘em dead, tiger.”
Phineas scoffed as the two entered the conference room and closed the door behind them. The girl had been speaking quietly, but the still air of the waiting room let everyone on the entire floor hear the exchange. These were typical business practices in this city, substandard employees were hired all the time due to nepotism. Still, it was no concern of Phineas’s if the company hired shoddy programmers or accountants.
If the company wanted to hire someone like that to work here… well, if it was Phineas’s future research department, then he would have to whip the boy into shape… if he couldn’t, he would transfer the idiot somewhere else where his lackadaisical attitude wouldn’t cause any damage.
Phineas’s musing was once again interrupted by the ding of the elevator, and a third figure strolled onto the floor. This was another young man, but his demeanor couldn’t be more different from the one that had just left. His dark brown hair was messy, but in a way that screamed ‘this is intentional’, and his steel grey eyes were focused and sharp.
The business suit the young man wore could have used some work. He refused to wear a tie, and the top two buttons of his white button up were undone. Still, Phineas could tell by the way the buttonless grey jacket lay on his shoulders that the suit was tailored by someone that knew exactly what they were doing… Phineas admired precise work wherever he saw it… and the suit was clean and pressed perfectly.
“Mr. Seere!” the young man was accosted as soon as he stepped off of the elevator by the pretty young receptionist with blonde ringlets that had greeted Phineas when he arrived, and Phineas noted that the young man’s name was identical to the building he was waiting in, “Miss Frost and Miss Allan are in the conference room doing an interview, is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh, hello, Ms. Kane…”
“Sir, I’ve told you to call me Marcy.” the woman interrupted.
“I will, when you start calling me Greg, Ms. Kane,” the man joked, “You don’t need to do anything for me. I’m here to help with the interviews. I saw someone promising when I looked through the resumes last night, and he’s going to be perfect for the new department I’m building with Stark. I’m sure Emma and Liz are probably expecting me.”
“Eh, no, actually, I think… aaaand he walked away.” The woman sighed and shook her head as her boss slipped past her and into the meeting room, and then took note of the genius being made to wait like a common engineer, “Mr. Mason, you’re the second interview on the schedule. Thank you so much for being punctual… unlike some people. You shouldn’t have to wait much longer.”
Phineas simply waved his hand, looked up to meet her eyes with grudging respect, and nodded with gratitude. Anyone who appreciated punctuality and professionalism deserved Phineas’s respect, regardless of their… other features. The young owner’s casual demeanor was a bit… off putting, but Phineas could forgive a bit of eccentricity in a young genius. Phineas had read the boy’s doctoral thesis on integrated circuits, and he was eager to collaborate with a promising young engineer.
The fact that this young engineer was just as excited to work with Phineus, as well… I mean, who else could the young genius be talking about. Like recognizes like, of course.
Barely ten minutes passed before the door to the conference room opened again, and a flustered ‘Pete’ stumbled out of the office, followed by the young CEO.
“Pete, I’m not sure what happened in there,” the strawberry blonde woman sternly reprimanded her disheveled companion, “But you got the job… somehow. Thank… nevermind. Just… make sure you’re here at eight am sharp on Monday. I don’t want to hear any excuses, ok?”
Phineas scoffed mentally as the boy nodded and slunk toward the elevator, seeming to be shell shocked… likely the young owner tore the boy a new one, but ultimately caved when begged by his young CEO. Well, here’s to hoping that the walking disaster wasn’t working in Phineas’s new department.
“Mr. Mason,” the young blonde receptionist called out soon after, “Ms. Frost and Ms. Allan will see you now.”
Phineas hopped off of the waiting room chair, adjusted his tie once more (it was aligned perfectly, but one could never be too sure), strode confidently into the conference room, and climbed into the lone unoccupied office chair at the table. On the other side of the table the young genius was rifling through a manilla folder, no doubt confirming that this was the resume he’d mentioned.
The blonde shareholder, an ageless beauty precisely dressed and professional in an ivory tailored suit, sat next to the young genius. The woman’s face was impassive, but Phineas could feel her discerning stare as he climbed into his seat. Her poker face was flawless, but no doubt she struggled to contain her excitement at the prospect of hiring a man like Phineas (not that there were any other men like The Phineas Mason).
Phineas admired her professionalism, and respected the fact that the woman knew her place was in the office, instead of the laboratory where the real decisions were made.
The second woman, the strawberry blonde CEO, seemed distracted by something on her phone. Phineas immediately dismissed her as inconsequential. She was no doubt promoted for her striking looks, someone to be a pretty public face for the company while the young owner made all of the important decisions behind the scenes.
It’s no wonder the woman was able to charm the young genius into hiring her boyfriend. Young engineers often make terrible decisions when confronted with beautiful women. It was a common flaw that was often snuffed out later in their lives, after enough betrayals allowed them to realize that women had no place anywhere near a proper scientist… well, other than in the proper supportive roles, after all… if the man couldn’t be bothered to pack his own lunch.
“Mr. Mason,” the steel eyed blonde woman began when Phineas had finished fiddling with the seat’s height adjustment, her poker face never twitching once, “To be honest, I was a little surprised to see your resume on my desk.”
‘Ah, here it is,’ thought Phineas, ‘Here is where she tells me how lucky they are to have me apply for the company.’
“Honestly,” the woman continued, looking down at an open manila folder on the table, “I don’t know why you thought you’d be a good fit here.”
“What?” This wasn’t going according to Phineas’s script, and his mind… temporarily, of course… attempted to reboot itself as he stared wide eyed at the woman. He quickly gathered his composure, and stammered out a reply to the waiting woman.
“I assure you Mrs. Frost…”
“It’s Ms. Frost, Mr. Mason.”
“Ah yes, my apologies… as I was saying,” Phineas’s voice shuddered as he attempted to regain his composure. He consoled himself that the woman was likely using a high pressure recruitment tactic… likely to talk down his frankly astronomical asking price (though Phineas Mason was worth every red cent). Phineas continued, “I assure you, Miss Frost…”
Phineas didn’t miss the twitch in the woman’s eye when he said ‘Miss’, and Phineas cursed himself slightly… how could a man of his stature be expected to remember all of these… epithets women used these days. It was frankly more trouble than it was worth.
“...that my work will be of utmost value to Seere Industries. I have been lauded as one of the premiere innovators in the field of robotics…”
“I’ll be frank, Mr. Mason,” Emma continued, cutting him off, “Your work is primarily focused on networking autonomous drones for military purposes. Correct?”
“Eh, yes, Miss… er, Ms. Frost,” Phineas twiddled his thumbs nervously as the woman glared across the table at him, “But that’s not all…”
“Which is why you would be a better fit at a company like Stark Industries or Hammer Tech,” Emma continued, “What made you believe you would be a good acquisition for a consumer electronics and aviation firm?”
“Eh, well, I think…” Phineas started, but Emma obviously didn’t want an answer, because she continued without waiting for him to explain.
“Gregory, do you have anything to add?”
“Huh, about what? Oh,” the young man finally looked up from his folder, and Phineas knew his rescuer had finally arrived, “Oh, sorry. No, that’s fine.”
The young man turned to the strawberry blonde girl staring at her phone.
“Liz, why didn’t you tell me you were dating ‘The Peter Parker’? The man’s paper on non-newtonian adhesives was amazing. It’s a shame it was completely passed over by the academic community, the industrial applications are endless. I can’t believe I’m going to have that man heading the new department that Stark is financing! I can’t wait to rub it in Tony’s face when I see him next.”
“Eh,” Phineas stammered as the man said something he’d never expected, and his brain tried rebooting one last time, “But my work on the… the resume you saw… my new department…”
“If that’s all, Mr. Mason,” Emma stated definitively and slammed a small ream of papers on the desk together to straighten them out, “We’ll have our people be in touch if we have an opening for someone of your… caliber. I wouldn’t turn down any other offers in the meantime, however. Until then… this woman will be minding her proper place in the office, where she belongs.”
The Conference Room on the 30th Floor
A few minutes ago.
“Mr. Parker,” the ageless blonde bombshell at the table finally spoke after what seemed like hours to Pete, “I’m trying very hard to ignore your tardiness for this meeting. Your appearance, however, is something…”
Whatever the woman was about to say was cut off as the conference door slammed inward and a young man in a sharp suit strolled in.
“Parker?” the man said, zeroing in on Peter immediately after entering and slamming the door shut, “Peter Parker?”
Emma's face twisted as the young man entered like she’d just tasted something extremely sour, and Liz put her palm to her face in the classic Picard pose.
“Uh, ye… yes, sir, that’s…” stammered Pete.
“You’re hired,” the young man interrupted, ignoring the looks the women were giving him, and turned to Liz, “What’s he asking for?”
He waited a moment while the flustered Liz Allen rifled through Peter’s resume.
“It doesn’t matter,” the young man said as he took a seat next to Emma, “Triple it.”
Pete and Liz stared wide eyed at the young man, and Emma wisely decided to look through the other resumes on the desk.
“Not enough? Add a zero. You’re working here, and that’s final.”
The young man reached across the table, and Pete could barely keep from shaking as he extended his own arm to shake the offered hand. He would finally be able to afford to ask Aunt May to retire… no more long nights for her at the homeless shelter… and he could finally afford to take Liz out for a proper dinner instead of bringing a wealthy CEO to the Red Lobster… not that Liz ever complained.
“Great, it’s a deal,” the young man’s smile beamed as he met Pete’s eyes, “We’re starting a new research department with Stark Industries on Monday, and I can’t think of a better man to head the team. You’ll be working directly with Tony and me… well, if Tony decides to show up… but definitely me. Don’t worry though, I won’t step on your toes.”
“Perfect, I can’t wait,” the man turned to Liz when he was finished, “The man is a multihyphenate legend, I can’t believe Osborn shut him and Octavius down last year. Their work was so promising. Shame what happened to Otto. When were you going to tell me the two of you were dating?”
Greg turned back to Emma as Liz ushered the shell shocked Peter out of the office.
“Sorry Emma,” Greg said a bit sheepishly, “That was quite rude of me. Were you saying something?”
“No Gregory, I love it when men that apply for a position as a research assistant are offered seven figure salaries,” Emma answered as a twitch started to form on her left eye, “You know, I have no idea how Jean puts up with you sometimes.”
“Eh, mostly with scoldings and waist pinches when I start one of my tears. She’s got me mostly handled I’d say.”
Back at the apartment.
About an hour ago.
Gwen sat listless on a familiar couch, mindlessly thumbing through one of Serafall’s manga volumes (left where she finished reading it instead of back in her own apartment where it belonged… as usual). A breadbox-sized Carcharodon sprawled across her lap, belly up, its legs twitching as it snored away the lazy morning. An annoyed tuxedo cat… which was mostly a redundant statement… glared at her hated enemy from across the room. Though if you asked Empress Spot, the cat would firmly state that she was definitely not jealous of the legged fish’s position, or of the belly rubs the beast was receiving in her rightful place.
The door to the apartment opened, and a red haired woman with a generous figure wearing an emerald green sundress entered the room. She threw her keys in a basket near the door, hung her purse on a hook, and made note of the only occupants in the room before moving toward the kitchen.
“Hey Jean,” Gwen said, looking up from her comic, “Greg out?”
“I just dropped him off at the office,” the woman replied as stood on tiptoe and pulled the box of ‘Lemon Zinger’ out of the cupboard, “Can you believe he just wanted to teleport to the 30th floor waiting area? Marcy would have lost her mind!”
“That sounds like Greg,” Gwen answered halfheartedly as Jean filled the pot, “The guy takes ‘dense harem protagonist’ to the next level. I’m guessing you were able to convince him otherwise?”
“Barely,” Jean responded, and the repeated click of the stovetop ignition was followed by a woosh of the gas lighting, “It was only because I offered to drive him. The man refuses to get his license.”
Jean’s voice dropped low and took on an exaggerated posh accent as she parodied her boyfriend.
“Dear one, why would one bother to drive in Manhattan? It’s simply not done!”
The woman giggled as the teapot’s whistling started, and Jean removed it from its place.
“He’s not that bad,” Gwen chuckled, though in a much less animated way than she normally would, “But yeah, I can see what you mean.”
The apartment remained silent, except for the rustling of manga pages and the tinkling of metal striking ceramic as Jean mixed a packet of Splenda into her tea. When her drink was ready, she walked over to the couch, put a throw pillow on her lap, and turned directly to the pink haired menace (acting much less menacingly today) sitting next to her.
“Alright Gwen, Momma Jean is here now, what’s the problem?”
Gwen looked up at Jean as if noticing her for the first time, put the manga down on the couch, and let out a large sigh.
“Eric and Elsa are leaving town today. Eric’s headed to Prague to follow a few leads on some vampire nobles, and Elsa said she’s headed back to work. Both of them said they’d be back… but…”
“But you’re lonely,” Jean nodded as she sipped her tea, “And Doreen is off with Tippy Toe managing the local squirrel population, while you feel like you’re stuck here with no real purpose, right?”
Gwen sighed as the statement sunk in.
“Yeah,” she responded, “That’s about it. Good job Miss Telepathic Therapist. It’s like…”
Gwen waited a few minutes, her eyes and face shifting as she gathered her thoughts. When she finally continued, her words came rapid fire, like she was unloading a weight from her soul.
“I just… I figured I’d slum it as the comic relief in a crappy harem comedy FanFic for a few months while I was waiting for the Rivals reveal, or until the author dropped it… but like, this is totally nothing like what I was expecting. I thought I’d just be some generic bakadere sidekick for a dense harem protagonist… or at worst I’d be shoehorned into a Het role as a side chick. The fic warnings said there’d be no explicit sex, so I thought the worst that could happen was a few gross make out sessions… and I could just fake my way through them. Instead, there are like… genuine character interactions, and I’m actually getting attached to people here.”
“Hey,” Jean said softly as she placed her hand on the trembling girl’s shoulder, “I’m not going to pretend to understand any of what you just said, but I’m an empath, so I know exactly what you’re feeling. Literally.”
Jean put her cup down and pulled the shorter girl into a hug, causing Jeff to grumble cutely in his sleep as he was pressed between the two women.
“I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but I want you to know… you don’t have to invent some role to justify your existence here. You’re home now. You fit in perfectly, and we all think you’re great.”
A few minutes went by as the pink haired girl sobbed into the older woman’s shoulder and the tiny Carcharodon grumbled testily (and the Empress looked on disdainfully… that was what the beast deserved for taking her spot). When she regained control of her senses, Gwen pulled away and wiped her eyes (and Jeff went back to releasing tiny little snores).
“This segues perfectly into something I wanted to talk to you about,” Jean said as she leaned over to grab a small wooden case off of a nearby end table. She opened the case, and took eight ruby crystal chess pieces… the pawns… into her hands, “I was thinking about it the other day, and I figured, well… I don’t need to have 15 women around Greg to ensure the baby-making plan works out. Maybe, if you want to, you can find people that deserve these. And of course, I want you to take one yourself.”
“Wait,” said Gwen, her voice instantly becoming tense, “Are you telling me I get to pick the pawns?”
“Yes,” Jean said firmly, “I would love to have you round out my peerage.”
“But wait,” Gwen cocked her head, “Isn’t it…”
“I said that I would love to have you help round out my peerage.”
Gwen stared at the pieces as Jean handed them to her, and her eyes lit up.
“A little warning,” Jean interrupted, “Aunt Fiona wanted me to remind you that all of your recruits must be from this timeline… whatever that means… and you’re to bring every member that you choose to me for approval before you give them the piece.”
Gwen’s huge smile and trembling hands were an immediate contrast to her former melancholy. The girl squealed as she accepted the pieces.
“That’s fine, Bob can figure out how my friends all got here, I’m sure he’s already thinking of ways to retcon everything. This is so GREAT!”
Gwen giggled uncontrollably and buried her face in Jeff’s belly.
“Did you hear that Jeffy-Poo! You and mommy are gonna be DEVILS!”
“Oh god,” Jean smiled indulgently as she pinched her brow, “What have I done?”