The Greedy Frog
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Marvel: Pay to Win Gambling 25
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 16:50:33 +0000 UTCChapter 25: Unexpected Company
Dropping the kids back at the mansion, I decided to take a walk. No company. Just me and the sweet embrace of city pollution.
Angel had apparently peaced out a few minutes earlier, turning down Xavier’s offer—which, frankly, was a shame. The guy was loaded. Things were more or less back to "normal," whatever that means around here.
Everyone was supposed to be informed about the new teaching routine after dinner tonight. That still gave me a generous window to pretend I had plans.
The roads were less crowded than usual, and the air had that classic New York cocktail—smoke, gasoline, and a hint of impending chaos.
Dinner was at eight. Later than usual, but nothing about today had been particularly "usual." I had about two and a half hours to kill.
Not a curfew or anything. It’s just that everyone at the mansion liked to eat together. Group bonding or cult ritual, take your pick.
So yeah, just me and—
“So, where are you headed?”
Never in my life had I been that close to an actual heart attack. I yelped—like, full-on—and it was wildly off-brand for both my vibe and my wardrobe.
There she was. Reddish-brown hair, smug expression, eyes locked on me like this was completely normal behavior.
“H-How—no, when did you get here?” I asked, because teleportation had to be involved. Except I knew it wasn’t her power.
“Ran straight here,” she said, like that made it better.
I turned to look behind us. Concrete jungle. Buildings. Alleys. Traffic.
“You didn’t, by chance, barrel through someone’s living room, did you?”
She gave an awkward shrug. “One guy looked scared. The rest were mostly surprised.”
Of course. Common sense? Not her strong suit.
“I answered your question,” she said, completely dismissing everything else. “Where are we headed?”
We, huh?
She had her arms stretched over her head, walking in long, confident strides—tomboyish as hell, which didn’t quite match how annoyingly pretty she was.
“I’m not sure I follow,” I said. “Especially the ‘we’ part.”
She rolled her eyes this time. Progress. “Come on. The mansion’s dead boring right now. Everyone’s talking teaching methods and regulations like it’s school orientation.”
She leaned in. “So... what are you up to?”
“You’re not leaving me alone until I answer, are you?”
She grinned. “I’m not leaving even if you answer. But I’ll ask fewer questions.”
She is... a lot.
“To be honest? No clue,” I shrugged. “Just stepped out for fresh air.”
Or, if we’re being honest, hoping to walk face-first into some chaos. This was New York, after all.
“Fresh air?” She glanced around like the air had personally offended her. “Out here?”
“Bad call, yeah.”
“Terrible,” she agreed. “But if we keep walking, we might stumble onto something.”
Oh? Same idea?
She smirked like she’d read my mind. “I’ve been with the X-Men longer than you. Any dumb thing you’re thinking of doing? Been there, done that.”
I grumbled, and she grinned wider.
“If you really want an adventure, just take a stroll through a dark alley. At least ten no-name gangs would jump you. Great cardio, and garbage day comes early.”
“I am not doing that,” I deadpanned.
And, of course, she didn't wait for a reply before turning on her heel and heading toward a street vendor.
“Classic or flavored?” she called back. “I’m torn. I love butterscotch, but classic is, well, classic.”
I blinked at her for a good minute. Then a few more seconds to accept defeat. There was no winning with her.
“Green apple,” I said. “But classic works too.”
She raised a brow at me like I was the strange one.
“Weird choice, but okay.”
Didn’t she just ask?
A minute and a half later, she handed me the green apple cotton candy. She stuck with classic. I stared at my phone. Still two hours to go. Fine. I could indulge a little.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
We walked the straight road, people-watching. It wasn’t hard to find a weirdo every few blocks—New York’s finest.
“So,” she finally said, “I heard the professor offered you a spot in the X-Men?”
“Yeah. Happened right before you showed up. He gave me the whole heartfelt speech too.”
“I think you’ll do well,” she said with a shrug, like it didn’t really matter either way. “I mean, look at me. Everyone said I wouldn’t last and now I’ve got more rescues under my belt than most of the team.”
That part caught me off guard. I didn’t know she did rescue work. Or that she kept score.
“And you’re not required to wear a uniform,” she added, puffing one cheek out in mock irritation. “I’m jealous. I like the suit and all, but I’d rather wear my own clothes if it weren’t for all the cool perks.”
Now that, I agreed with. Style over spandex, any day.
To that, I gave her a smirk. For once, it felt like I was the one annoying her.
Naturally, that feeling lasted all of five minutes.
We walked in silence, her still nibbling on cotton candy like it was a delicacy. Mine? Gone in under sixty seconds.
“What are you, cattle?” she asked, eyeing my empty stick.
I just chuckled, and we kept walking. It was getting dark, and the weather wasn’t exactly rolling out the red carpet either.
Somehow, without meaning to, we ended up talking more. Or maybe I did. Either way, words happened.
“I heard you went sailing,” I said, glancing at her still working through her candy. “You like the ocean?”
“Love it,” she said without hesitation. “The air, the water, the endless nothingness—it’s freedom. Peace, in a weird, massive kind of way.”
I’d never been a sea guy, but I could respect the poetic vibe. The ocean was pretty. From a safe distance.
“What about you?” she asked. “Any hobbies? Dreams?”
Hobbies, huh.
“Nothing dramatic. Reading, cooking... occasional traveling.”
She finally finished her candy and lobbed the stick into a bin like a basketball pro. “Okay, what about dreams? Any grand escapades planned?”
“Escapades, huh…”
I didn’t have any these days. Not really. Other than getting stronger and stacking money like a dragon. But before all this?
“I want to experience the world,” I said after a moment. “Every country, every city, every corner. I want to taste their food, join their festivals, watch their art come to life. That kind of stuff.”
Might sound small to someone who could fly or teleport or shoot lightning out of their hands. But to a guy who used to live paycheck to paycheck? That dream was huge.
“I don’t just stay on the sea, you know?” she said, looking up at the darkening sky. “Whenever I dock, I take time. Explore. Meet people. There’s a peace in it you can’t put into words.”
I remembered Vietnam—avoiding the big cities, walking with the village kids, laughing over meals I couldn’t pronounce. That had been one of the best times of my life.
“You’re not a bad guy,” she said suddenly. “Not stuck-up or arrogant. You’re... good.”
I stared at her. That came out of nowhere.
“There are a few X-Men I could live without talking to,” she added, no names mentioned. “So yeah. You’re doing alright. You’re funny enough.”
“I am?” It slipped out before I could stop it.
“Mhm,” she nodded. “And you’ve got a decent heart under all that ‘leave me alone’ energy.”
Huh. That was... a lot to unpack from just an hour of hanging out.
We walked quietly through the thinning crowd, the city lights flickering on, casting a kaleidoscope of color across her face. I found myself stealing glances, unsure why. Maybe it was the glow of the ads overhead, or the way she smiled at everything like the world still had things worth noticing.
Then her tone softened.
“Thank you for protecting Ororo.”
That caught me off guard. Her voice was gentle, words careful.
“I heard what happened. It’s still hard to believe anyone stronger than her exists... but I’m glad it was you.”
She paused, gaze distant.
“So, thank you. For helping the one person who’d rather suffer in silence than ask for help. If it weren’t for you, she probably would’ve.”
Truth be told, I was just as lucky to survive that day as Ororo or Bobby. No one needed to know how close it was.
“I just saved myself,” I said. “Wasn’t being noble. I had selfish reasons.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, stepping closer. “She’s alive. That’s what counts. So, thank you.”
She was just a foot away now, hands in her pockets, face peaceful in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“We should go,” I muttered, not sure what else to say. “We’ll be late for dinner.”
She nodded after a beat. “Yeah. Professor, Jean, and Ororo would kill me if I was late the very day I got back.” She looked left. “Follow me. I know a shortcut.”
The "shortcut" was a dim alleyway slicing through one of the taller buildings. A direct line to the mansion, supposedly.
Problem is, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this world, it’s that dark alleys are never shortcuts. They're just dramatic setpieces for bad decisions.
And true to form, the alley didn’t disappoint.
A few steps in, we heard the unmistakable crash of something—or someone—falling from a rooftop and landing face-first into a cluster of metal trash cans.
Kitty snapped to attention, ready to throw hands. Me? I just stared.
From the mess of cobwebs, gunk, and what looked like fishbones stuck to his suit, emerged a red-and-blue figure.
“Spidey?”
Who else?
The most cursed neighborhood kid in the tri-state area.
