Emma took a slow sip of the red wine before answering, her movements calm and unhurried.
"Shaw is in Miami," she said evenly. "As for the core members besides me, Azazel, and Shaw—there's Riptide, of course. His real name is Janos Questi."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"Then there's Black Bishop, Isabel Nava. Black Rook, Bud Blom. And White Rook, Syrio McCartney."
Richard's brow creased slightly.
Riptide didn't surprise him. But the other three names meant nothing to him. They weren't prominent figures from the films, and they didn't match the most well-known comic arcs either.
"What are their abilities?" he asked.
Emma answered without hesitation.
"Black Bishop can manipulate shadows. Full-spectrum control—concealment, shaping, weaponization."
"Black Rook can fly and generate energy shockwaves."
"White Rook controls gravity."
She added one more detail.
"All three are Alpha-level. And the two Rooks are brothers."
Richard absorbed the information quietly.
"Are they in Miami too?"
"No," Emma replied. "Shaw assigned them elsewhere. I don't know the specifics."
That didn't trouble Richard much.
If Shaw was the main course, the others were appetizers.
"Tell me everything you know about Sebastian Shaw," Richard said, finishing the whiskey in his glass. "And then tell me about yourself. In detail."
Emma nodded once.
"Alright."
She began.
More than thirty minutes passed as she spoke.
The Shaw of this world differed from both his cinematic and comic counterparts. In the comics, Shaw built a financial empire first, became a billionaire at forty, then entered the Hellfire Club's hierarchy through ambition and manipulation.
Here, the order was reversed.
He was already Black King when he recruited her.
She didn't know exactly when he joined the Club, only that he had immense wealth—enough to fund every operation personally. The Hellfire Club's resources flowed from him directly.
Her own history diverged even more.
In the comics, Emma Frost came from Boston high society—cold father, unstable mother, complicated siblings, fractured relationships.
Here, she was an only child from a middle-class family in New York.
Her parents had died in a car accident.
Shaw had appeared during her grief, offered support, purpose, structure.
She hadn't joined because she believed in his ideology.
She joined out of gratitude.
When she finished, silence settled briefly between them.
Richard exhaled slowly.
His so-called "prophet advantage" as a transmigrator was thinning.
He could predict powers.
He could guess names.
But personalities, histories, motivations—those were shifting.
"Let's go," he said at last. "We'll meet Shaw and Riptide."
He stood and extended his hand.
Emma rose immediately and took it.
Mind transmission activated.
Though the technique itself hadn't evolved structurally, Azazel's teleportation had strengthened its range dramatically.
Before, Richard's upper limit was two hundred kilometers.
Now it was eight hundred.
Las Vegas to Miami exceeded three thousand five hundred kilometers.
He could not cross that in one jump.
But he didn't need to.
In under a minute, through chained long-range transmissions, they arrived at Bay Park Marina near Jungle Island in Miami.
The Caspardina yacht rested quietly at the dock.
The name remained the same, though Emma had clarified earlier that there was no hidden nuclear submarine beneath it in this version of events. It was simply a luxury vessel.
Standing at the dock, Richard did not take her hand again.
Instead, he slipped an arm around her slender waist and teleported them directly onto the sun deck.
The ocean breeze returned, warm and steady.
"You won't interfere in what happens next," he said calmly. "Just watch."
Emma nodded without argument.
She had no intention of testing the limits of the mark near her heart.
Richard expanded his telepathy outward, scanning the yacht.
His expression shifted subtly.
Empty.
No Shaw.
No Riptide.
Aside from Emma, the yacht held only basic crew staff below deck—none with significant mutant signatures.
He had expected to catch Shaw off guard.
Instead, he'd arrived early.
"They're not here," Richard said flatly. "Call him."
Emma did not sense the emptiness herself, but she didn't question him. She retrieved her white phone from her handbag and dialed Shaw's number, placing the call on speaker.
It connected quickly.
"Has the invitation been delivered?" Shaw's voice came through, calm and controlled.
"Yes," Emma replied evenly. "Azazel and I have returned to the yacht. Where are you and Janos?"
There was no hesitation on Shaw's end.
"Janos and I stepped out to meet a very important guest. We'll return tonight."
A brief pause.
"We'll talk when we're back."
The line disconnected.
Richard remained silent for a moment.
Very important guest.
One name surfaced immediately.
Magneto.
Was Shaw already making contact?
Did he somehow know Wanda and Pietro's parentage?
Or was this about recruitment?
Several possibilities aligned rapidly in Richard's mind.
Whatever the answer was, one thing had become clear.
The game was moving faster than expected.
.....
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