[The Hellfire Gala. The VIP Lounge. Continuous.]
Sebastian Michaelis stood in the plush shadows of the VIP lounge, his hands folded neatly behind his back.
At the center of the room, Sebastian Shaw laughed loudly, slapping a manila folder onto the green velvet of the poker table.
"The vote is at 8:00 AM tomorrow," Shaw told the three corrupt generals. "As soon as the board ousts Potts, I authorize the transfer of ten billion dollars from the Inner Circle's accounts to secure Vault 4. Stark's energy weapons will be on a cargo plane to Madripoor by noon."
Shaw snapped his fingers without looking. "English. More Scotch. And bring me my ledger."
"Right away, Sir," Sebastian murmured, stepping out of the shadows.
He picked up the heavy, leather-bound financial ledger from the side table. As he walked toward Shaw, his red eyes locked onto the glowing digital routing numbers printed on the authorization page.
Time seemed to slow down.
With a movement so fast it didn't even register as a blur to the human eye, Sebastian slipped a silver fountain pen from his breast pocket. He didn't just alter the numbers; he rewrote the ink at a microscopic level. He changed the destination of the ten billion dollars from Stark's hostile takeover account to the Maria Stark Foundation for Orphaned Children.
He capped the pen and placed the ledger in front of Shaw, pouring the Scotch with his other hand. Not a single drop spilled.
"Sign on the dotted line, gentlemen," Shaw chuckled, scrawling his signature across the altered page. "To the future."
Across the room, Emma Frost sat on a leather sofa, sipping champagne. Her eyes flicked from the ledger to the butler. She couldn't read his mind, but she was a genius in her own right. She had seen the impossible stillness of his posture. She had seen the ink on the page gleam wetly for a fraction of a second.
He altered the book, Emma realized, her pulse quickening. Right under the Black King's nose.
"You," Shaw pointed a cigar at Sebastian. "Go down to the cellar. Fetch the 1945 Romanée-Conti. We're celebrating early."
"As you wish, Sir," Sebastian bowed deeply.
He turned and exited the room. A moment later, Emma stood up, smoothing her white skirt. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to powder my nose."
[The Wine Cellar]
The cellar was cool, damp, and lit by flickering Edison bulbs. Thousands of priceless vintages lined the mahogany racks.
Sebastian walked down the aisle, his eyes scanning the labels. "1942... 1943... ah. 1945."
He reached for the dusty bottle.
"I wouldn't open that if I were you. Shaw doesn't deserve it."
Sebastian didn't flinch. He slowly turned around, holding the bottle with a white-gloved hand.
Emma Frost stood at the end of the aisle. The heavy oak door was locked behind her.
"Miss Frost," Sebastian offered a polite smile. "Are you lost? The powder room is on the second floor."
"Cut the act, demon," Emma said, stepping forward. "I saw what you did upstairs. You changed the routing numbers in the ledger. When Shaw tries to buy Vault 4 tomorrow, his funds are going to bounce."
"I merely corrected a clerical error," Sebastian said smoothly. "Mr. Shaw's penmanship is famously sloppy. It would be a tragedy if his money went to the wrong place."
"Who sent you?" Emma demanded. "Pepper Potts? The Avengers?"
"I am a butler, Madam. I serve the House of Stark."
Emma stopped a few feet away. She looked at him closely.
"Shaw is a mutant who absorbs kinetic energy," Emma warned. "If you try to assassinate him, and you strike him with anything less than the force of a nuclear bomb, you will only make him stronger. He will tear you in half."
"How barbaric," Sebastian sighed, wiping a speck of dust from the wine bottle. "Rest assured, I have no intention of engaging in a fistfight. I am going to ruin him financially, publicly, and completely. By the time the sun rises, Sebastian Shaw will not have the capital to buy a cup of coffee, let alone my Master's legacy."
Emma stared at him. A slow, calculating smile spread across her red lips.
"You want to destroy the Black King," Emma said softly.
Suddenly, a wave of cold energy washed over the cellar. Emma's skin began to shimmer. In a matter of seconds, her flesh, hair, and clothes transformed into flawless, translucent, organic diamond.
She caught the light of the bulbs, sparkling with indestructible brilliance. It was her secondary mutation—a form that made her impervious to physical damage and completely shielded her from psychic attacks. Or demonic ones.
"I want him destroyed too," Emma said, her voice echoing slightly from her diamond throat. "Shaw is a brute. He is steering the Hellfire Club into the ground with his obsession with Stark weapons. I want the throne."
Sebastian tilted his head, intrigued. "You are proposing a wager, White Queen?"
"An alliance," Emma corrected. "You have the speed and the... unnatural abilities. But you don't have the encryption keys to Shaw's offshore servers. You can't dismantle his empire by dawn without me."
She held out her diamond hand.
"I will give you the keys. I will blind the security cameras. I will keep Shaw distracted at the poker table until 5:00 AM. In exchange, you wipe out his accounts, secure Stark's vault, and leave the Hellfire Club to me."
Sebastian looked at her outstretched hand. He appreciated her ruthlessness. She was a true aristocrat of the shadows.
He reached out and took her diamond hand. His grip was entirely firm, unaffected by the freezing hardness of her skin.
"A mutually beneficial arrangement," Sebastian smiled, his eyes glowing fuchsia in the dim cellar light. "You have yourself a deal, Miss Frost."
He picked up a different bottle of wine—a cheap, sour vintage from a lower rack.
"Now, if you will excuse me," Sebastian said, heading for the stairs. "I must serve the Black King his celebratory drink. And then... I have some accounts to balance."
[End of Chapter 73]
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