"I read that new book of yours… what was it called again?"
Tony Stark's voice sliced through the hum of the party — more curious than genuinely interested. He slowly swirled the ice in his glass, watching the amber liquid turn lazily as if it were the center of the universe itself.
Arthur raised an eyebrow without stopping his steady motion of the cocktail shaker.
"You mean Project Eden? That half-baked sci-fi novel loosely inspired by Terminator — the one I wrote and that nobody but me had the courage to finish reading?"
"That's the one!" Tony replied with a smug grin. "I've gotta admit, I liked it. But that A.I., ARGUS? If I had built her, I can guarantee she wouldn't have had the slightest chance to try taking over the world."
Arthur stared at him for a moment, brow furrowed.
"Oh, sure. Because if there's one thing you've never done, it's create an out-of-control A.I.," Arthur shot back mockingly.
"Hey, JARVIS doesn't count! He's loyal, classy, and has impeccable taste in music. He's practically the perfect butler."
"Right, until the day he decides you're the problem."
Tony lifted a finger, smirking.
"That's impossible. JARVIS and I share absolute trust. I'd stake my life on him."
Arthur chuckled softly.
"And that's exactly what every sci-fi protagonist says right before their A.I. tries to conquer the planet."
Pepper, who had been quietly observing the exchange, couldn't help but smile. They bickered like two old friends who'd had this same argument a dozen times before.
She shook her head slightly, amused.
"You two sound like teenagers arguing over whose toy is smarter," she said.
"It's not an argument, it's just a fact," Tony replied with complete confidence.
"Of course," Arthur said dryly as he poured another round of martinis. "You're just used to always winning your own arguments."
Pepper sighed with a soft laugh.
"Have fun, boys. I have a few important people to talk to. Try not to turn the bar into a war zone, okay?"
"No promises," Arthur replied teasingly.
"And good luck with your boring conversations," he added, lazily raising his glass in a mock toast.
Pepper smiled and walked away, leaving the two men alone again.
Tony leaned back on his stool, watching Arthur work. There was a precision to the way he handled the bottles and shaker — calm, deliberate, like someone who had seen and done far too much.
"You know," Tony said after a moment, "one day I'm going to figure out why everyone you meet either wants to kill you or drink with you."
He remembered a certain loudmouthed mercenary who had ambushed Arthur once — only for the two of them to end up sharing a drink afterward.
"Maybe those two things aren't that different," Arthur replied, sliding a cocktail toward a distracted executive nearby.
Tony laughed heartily. "Touché."
—xXx—
A few minutes later, Tony stood, straightening his suit jacket.
"Unfortunately, I've got to start my round of painfully dull small talk. You know the drill — shaking hands, pretending I understand economics, telling people I 'love their work,' and so on."
"Ah, the glamorous life of a billionaire," Arthur teased. "Enjoy your marathon of social hypocrisy."
"And you, enjoy your bar. At the rate you're going, you'll be opening an 'Arthur's Bar' franchise before the night's over."
"Not a bad idea."
Tony laughed, pointing a finger at him as he walked away. "Careful, or I might actually hire you."
"I already turned you down once and—" Arthur began, but Tony cut him off mid-sentence.
"And you'll turn me down again, I know," Tony said, vanishing into the crowd of guests.
Arthur just shook his head, amused, and went back to the calm rhythm of his impromptu bartending.
That was when the air in the room changed.
A silent ripple seemed to pass through the hall — a shift so subtle yet so undeniable that the chatter began to fade. The atmosphere grew heavier, denser.
And then the reason entered through the main doors.
A red-haired woman of striking beauty and hypnotic gaze walked in, her steps confident and graceful. Her crimson dress hugged every curve with effortless elegance, and the glint of her hair caught the crystal lights above, igniting the room as she passed. People instinctively made way for her.
Arthur froze for just a moment, the glass in his hand stilled mid-motion.
A faint shiver ran down the back of his neck.
An intense sense of déjà vu washed over him.
He couldn't explain why — but somehow, he felt like this had already happened before.
He couldn't recall where. Or when.
"What a strange feeling…" he thought.
It was the same feeling he'd had the first time he met Gwen — a deep, almost painful déjà vu. As if time itself had folded in on a memory that never existed.
And then, that uncomfortable sensation returned to his mind once more.
'Miss Jean… did you just try to read my mind?' he asked silently.
The answer came without sound — gentle, and far too close.
'I can't help it, Arthur. You know I still don't have full control over this ability.'
Arthur sighed softly.
"Ahh… always so invasive," he muttered.
Jean smiled faintly as she approached the bar.
"Come on, sit down," he said, gesturing to the stool across from him.
Jean Grey settled gracefully onto the seat, resting her chin on her hand. Her gaze was calm yet piercing, carrying a kind of mature serenity that only she possessed.
"Still holding a grudge?" Arthur asked as he poured the martini.
"Arthur, you literally tried to take a chunk out of Wolverine," Jean replied flatly.
"And if I remember right, Wade too," Arthur added with a crooked smile.
"Fufu~ No, I'm not holding a grudge. Honestly, I think the only one still complaining about that is Logan."
"Figures. I still have nightmares — and a scar on my back — from when he chased me into an elevator."
Jean laughed, shaking her head. "You deserved it. Every bit of it."
Arthur slid the glass toward her.
"Maybe. But nothing a good martini can't fix."
She took the glass, twirling it gently. The ice clinked softly — a fleeting echo of the past.
"Changing the subject," Arthur said, lowering his voice slightly. "About that thing… do you still remember our last talk?"
"You mean the mutant situation?" Jean asked.
"Exactly. Any updates?" Arthur leaned on the counter.
Jean sighed and rubbed her temple tiredly. "Unfortunately, no. I haven't even had time to talk to the Professor about it yet."
Arthur smiled faintly, resting his elbow on the bar.
"Don't stress yourself over it. You'll end up with wrinkles on that pretty face of yours."
Jean raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, was that a flirt?" she asked, smiling.
"Almost," Arthur replied with an equal grin.
"Should I tell your girlfriend about that?" she teased.
Arthur chuckled. "Go ahead. I think she'd actually like the idea."
Jean blinked, confused. "You're serious?"
Arthur averted his gaze, thoughtful.
"For some reason, I get the feeling Gwen wants me to have other women besides her. It's been happening for a while now."
"That's… unexpected," Jean said, narrowing her eyes. "You're not lying to me, are you?"
"Have I ever lied to you?" Arthur shot back immediately.
Jean rested her chin on her hand again, smiling slyly.
"Actually, yes. You have."
Arthur sighed, shaking his head with mock defeat.
"Then how about we leave the past in the past, hmm?"
Jean laughed softly and raised her glass.
"A toast to selective amnesia," she said.
"And to improbable reunions," Arthur added, clinking his glass with hers.
---
—xXx—
At the same time…
Gwen was upside down, feet stuck to the ceiling of her room, still trying to understand how she'd gotten there in the first place. Her heart was racing, each beat echoing in her ears like a drum.
She looked at her hands, then at the ceiling, then back at her feet — glued in place as if by suction cups.
"What… what's happening to me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Panic briefly gave way to awe. Gwen tried to move — and the sensation was both strange and instinctive, as if her body had suddenly learned a new law of physics that applied only to her.
"This can't be real…" she murmured — then let out a shaky laugh.
"I'm walking on the ceiling…"
---
(End of Chapter)
Sorry for the lack of chapters, many things happened these days that prevented me from updating.
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."