Bab 5: Chapter 5
Emma Frost, the White Queen of the Hellfire Club, sat poised inside the white limousine, her elegant frame draped in a pristine, form-fitting white dress, diamonds adorning her ears and neck like pieces of armor. Next to her, Sebastian Shaw, the indomitable Black King, sat in stony silence, his thick fingers casually drumming against his knee. Across from them, Selene Gallio, the Black Queen, with her dark and dangerous allure, stared out of the window with an almost predatory smile, while Mystique, the White King—a title that still baffled and amused Emma—looked positively smug. The sight of the blue-skinned shapeshifter as a king, of all things, had created a ripple of irritation among the Hellfire's traditionalists, but it was a decision Emma had found oddly satisfying, if not for the simple fact that it irked Sebastian to no end.
As the limousine sped through the dim streets toward the underground fighting ring, Emma mused on the incredible success of their latest operation. The club had always thrived on corruption, manipulation, and exploitation, but this endeavor—this underground mutant fighting ring—was proving to be a masterstroke. It wasn't just the money that was flowing in, though the wealth being funneled from this illicit activity was staggering. The more satisfying aspect was the leverage it gave them. Vulnerable, desperate mutants were flocking to the ring, hoping to prove their worth, make a name for themselves, or simply survive. The Hellfire Club, in turn, found fresh pawns to manipulate, soldiers to mold, and entertainment that transcended the mundane.
She glanced at Sebastian. He was pleased, that much was clear, but there was tension in him, a tightness around his mouth that betrayed his thoughts. It had been months since Mystique had ascended to the White King position, and it still gnawed at him. Emma could hardly blame him. Mystique's unconventional and, frankly, infuriating knack for shifting the power dynamics had been nothing short of a humiliation for Sebastian. But it was Mystique's quip that had truly undone him: "If a father like me can produce Nightcrawler, imagine what I can do with power." It had been pointed, deliberate, and cruel. But effective. The vote had gone through, and here they were. Mystique in her kingly throne, Shaw reduced to silence whenever she was around.
The limousine slowed to a halt as they reached the venue—a discreet, unmarked warehouse deep in the bowels of the city, far from prying eyes. Emma took a deep, satisfying breath as the door was opened by a waiting attendant. The air was thick with tension, anticipation, and the unmistakable scent of blood, sweat, and fear. She stepped out, followed by the others, and allowed herself a moment to drink in the energy of the place. There was something deliciously primal about it, something that appealed to her darker side.
As they were escorted through a back entrance, bypassing the throngs of spectators, Emma allowed her mind to stretch out, brushing against the consciousness of the crowd. The emotions were raw, untamed—exactly what she expected. Excitement, fear, lust for violence, desperation. Each thought, each feeling, a delicious buffet for her telepathic senses. But as she reached deeper, into the minds of the fighters waiting below the arena, something unusual caught her attention. A flicker of something... different. She couldn't quite place it, but it was there, a murmur amidst the chaos, something new, something she hadn't felt in these rings before.
"Emma, darling," Selene's voice interrupted her thoughts as the Black Queen slid up beside her. "Care for some wine before the festivities begin? I brought a rather exquisite vintage, though I doubt you'd appreciate its... subtleties."
Emma smiled coolly, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I wouldn't trust a glass of water from you, Selene, let alone wine. Though, I do appreciate the offer." She turned away, her mind still lingering on that strange presence she had sensed below.
Mystique, already seated comfortably in one of the plush VIP boxes that overlooked the fighting pit, smirked. "I do hope someone dies tonight. It's been far too long since I've seen a proper display of carnage."
Sebastian shot her a sharp look, his tone reprimanding. "There's no need for crudeness, Mystique. We're here to observe and profit, not revel in barbarism."
"Speak for yourself," Mystique retorted, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Barbarism has its charms."
Emma took her seat next to Shaw, her eyes scanning the arena. The stands were packed, a seething mass of humanity and mutantkind alike, all eager for the spectacle to begin. There was something perversely poetic about it—the way the Hellfire Club, the supposed elite, were willing to throw these mutant fighters into the pit for the entertainment of both their fellow mutants and humans. All the while, they sat in their ivory towers, profiting from the bloodshed.
At that moment, Pyro, the ever-enthusiastic announcer, stepped into the center of the pit, a devilish grin on his face. "Ladies and gentlemen, mutants and humans alike!" he bellowed, his voice booming through the arena. "Welcome to tonight's main event! We hope you're ready for action, bloodshed, and chaos!"
The crowd roared in approval, their excitement palpable. Emma could feel it like a wave crashing over her, the anticipation, the hunger for violence. She exchanged a brief glance with Sebastian, and they both raised a hand, signaling for the first match to begin.
The fighters were brought out—two mutants, both young, both eager to prove themselves. Emma's mind briefly skimmed the surface of their thoughts—rage, fear, desperation. It was always the same. But there was still that faint, lingering presence, something deeper in the pit that didn't quite fit.
As the fight began, Emma leaned back in her chair, her gaze sharp but distant. The crack of fists meeting flesh echoed through the arena, followed by the roar of the crowd. It was a spectacle, a dance of brutality, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that something unexpected was brewing beneath the surface of this night.
"Emma," Selene's voice cut through her thoughts again, her tone amused. "You seem distracted. Bored already?"
"Not at all," Emma replied smoothly, though she knew Selene was perceptive enough to sense otherwise. "Just... curious. There's something different about tonight."
"Is there now?" Selene raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do share."
Emma smiled thinly but said nothing more. Instead, she let her mind drift back to the pit, scanning the fighters, the crowd, the energy of the place. Whatever it was, it was out there, lurking. And Emma Frost had every intention of finding out what it was.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone