The city was a labyrinth of shadows and secrets as Ben Willis slipped through its underbelly, his cybernetic enhancements humming faintly beneath his skin. At eighteen, he was a paradox—part mutant with a healing factor that could rival a god's, part machine with upgrades that made him a walking weapon. His latest mission for Carl Denti, the silver-tongued bigot leading the Friends of Humanity, had been a success: Sentinel parts pilfered from a SHIELD warehouse, now tucked securely in the reinforced case slung over his shoulder. But Ben had other priorities before returning to the Hydra facility. Gifts. Always gifts.
He darted into a garish toy store just before closing, snagging oversized stuffed animals—a bear, a bunny, a ridiculous flamingo—each one bigger than the last. At a florist, he nabbed a dozen red roses, their thorns pricking his flesh only to heal instantly. Chocolates from a boutique followed, and finally, at a shady pawn shop, a collection of cheap but shiny wedding rings. "For my queens," he muttered to himself with a smirk, knowing the gesture would either melt hearts or earn him a playful slap.
The Hydra facility loomed on the outskirts, a fortress of cold steel and whispered horrors. Ben approached the perimeter, his enhanced senses picking up the faint buzz of security drones. Two guards at the gate barely had time to blink before he was on them, a blur of motion. "Evening, gents," he quipped, disarming one with a flick of his wrist and pinning the other against the wall. "Just passing through. No need for the heroics."
"Willis," the pinned guard grunted, recognizing the mutant's cocky grin. "Denti’s expecting you."
"Yeah, yeah, I’m a popular guy." Ben released the man with a pat on the shoulder, strolling past as if he owned the place. Inside, he navigated the labyrinthine corridors to Carl’s office, dropping the Sentinel parts on the desk with a metallic thud.
Carl Denti, all sharp suits and sharper hatred, looked up from his paperwork. "Took you long enough, Willis. Any trouble?"
Ben leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Just a little dance with Bucky Barnes. Guy’s got a metal arm fetish, I swear. Nothing I couldn’t handle."
Carl’s eyes narrowed, but a smirk tugged at his lips. "Good. These parts are the key to our future. Keep your head down until the next phase."
"Always do," Ben lied smoothly, already halfway out the door. He had no intention of playing Carl’s pawn for long. Not when he had a family waiting—a family of fierce, untouchable women who’d sooner gut Carl than let him breathe near them.
His private room in the facility was a sanctuary, a hidden nook carved out of Hydra’s cold heart. The moment he pushed the door open, the scent of something savory hit him—roasted herbs, garlic, and a hint of sweetness. And then there they were. Ten of the most powerful women in the world, his lovers, his protectors, his everything, crowded into the small space wearing nothing but aprons. Emma Frost stood at the stove, stirring a pot with a diamond-hard smirk. Psylocke leaned against the counter, her katana within reach even now. Storm’s eyes crackled with electricity as she poured wine, while Domino flipped a knife playfully, her luck aura practically shimmering. Scarlet Witch, Polaris, Mystique, Jean Grey, Jubilee, and Dazzler rounded out the scene, each one a vision of strength and seduction.
"Well, damn," Ben drawled, dropping his bags of gifts by the door. "If this ain’t the best welcome home a guy could ask for, I don’t know what is."
Emma turned, one perfectly arched brow raised. "You’re late, darling. We were about to start dinner without you—and I don’t just mean the food." Her voice was pure ice and honey, a challenge wrapped in velvet.
"Wouldn’t dream of missing a feast like this," Ben shot back, his gaze raking over them unapologetically. "Got a little delayed picking up some trinkets for my favorite war goddesses."
Psylocke sauntered over, her hips swaying with deadly precision. She plucked a rose from the bouquet in his hand, twirling it between her fingers. "Trinkets, hmm? Better be good, Willis, or I’ll carve my disappointment into that pretty face of yours. Healing factor or not."
Ben grinned, unfazed. "Oh, Bets, you wound me. But don’t worry, I’ve got something to make even you blush."
He started handing out the gifts, each one met with a mix of laughter and sharp-tongued jabs. Storm accepted her oversized bear with a regal nod, only to quip, "This is almost as cuddly as you, Ben, but far less mouthy." Domino snatched her chocolates, popping one into her mouth with a wink. "Sweet, just like the lies you tell to get out of trouble." Scarlet Witch dangled a cheap wedding ring on her finger, her magic sparking around it. "Planning to make an honest woman out of me, are you? Dream on, lover boy."
Mystique, ever the shapeshifter, morphed her apron into something scandalously sheer as she took her roses. "You’ve got taste, I’ll give you that. But don’t think flowers will save you if you’ve been reckless out there."
"Reckless? Me?" Ben feigned offense, clutching his chest. "I’m the picture of caution. Just ask Bucky Barnes. Pretty sure I left him crying into his metal arm."
Jean Grey’s telepathic voice slid into his mind, sultry and teasing. *You’re full of it, Ben. But I’ll let you live… for now. Come closer, and I’ll show you what real control looks like.*
The room buzzed with their energy, a heady mix of power and play. But as the laughter died down over a shared meal—plates piled high with food they’d cooked together—Ben’s tone shifted. He leaned back in his chair, the cheap wedding ring he’d kept for himself glinting on his finger. "Got some bad news to go with the good vibes. Carl’s got plans for those Sentinel parts. Big plans. Tri-Sentinel 2.0. You know, the kind of weapon that could wipe mutants off the map for good."
The air thickened, every woman at the table snapping to attention. Emma’s eyes turned cold, her mind already calculating. "That relic of genocide? Over my dead body. Carl’s bitten off more than he can chew this time."
Storm’s voice rumbled like thunder. "We’ve buried threats like this before. We’ll do it again. But we do it our way—together."
Polaris slammed a fist on the table, magnetic energy crackling. "I say we tear that facility apart brick by brick until Carl’s begging for mercy. No more games."
Ben nodded, his jaw tight. "Agreed. But we’ve gotta be smart. Carl’s got resources, and I’m betting he’s expecting betrayal. We hit him where it hurts, but we do it quiet—until it’s too late for him to run."
Jubilee smirked, fireworks dancing at her fingertips. "Quiet’s not my style, babe, but for you? I’ll play nice. Just promise I get to blow something up."
Dazzler leaned over, her voice a sultry purr as she traced a finger down Ben’s arm. "And after we save the world—again—you owe us a proper celebration. No cheap rings this time. I want the real deal, stud."
Ben chuckled, the tension breaking just enough to let desire seep back in. "Deal. But for now, let’s eat, plan, and maybe… dessert?" His eyes flicked to the aprons, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
Emma stood, her apron slipping just enough to reveal a glimpse of what lay beneath. "Oh, darling, dessert’s just the beginning. But first, let’s plot the downfall of a bigot. Then we’ll show you what real power tastes like."
As the table erupted in laughter and strategy, Ben knew one thing for certain: with these women by his side, Carl Denti didn’t stand a chance. And neither did he, in the best way possible.
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