Was she begging for mercy?
Richard looked at Emma with faint surprise. In the film timeline, she had resisted Magneto until the very end, holding out in diamond form until she was nearly defeated. She had not surrendered immediately.
But here, she hadn't even transformed.
There was no panic in her expression. No desperate emotional spike. Only calculation—and choice.
"Won't refuse anything?" Richard asked quietly, his gaze moving slowly across her face and down the elegant curve of her body.
Emma had grown accustomed to being looked at. Most men's eyes burned with desire, imagining conquest and possession. That kind of attention bored her.
But Richard's gaze was different.
It wasn't lust.
It was assessment.
Like a predator evaluating whether to consume or keep something alive.
She didn't know why the distinction unsettled her—but it did.
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "Anything."
Richard's hand closed around her shoulder.
Teleportation activated instantly.
The rooftop vanished.
The next moment, they stood inside his business suite at Caesars Palace.
Emma had barely adjusted to the new surroundings when Richard spoke again.
"If you prove your value, I won't kill you."
He paused deliberately.
"For example—"
"I understand," Emma cut in smoothly.
Before he could continue, she moved.
She stepped forward, then lowered herself gracefully to her knees in front of him. Her hands rose toward his belt with practiced composure.
For a split second, an absurd memory flickered through Richard's mind.
I'm very angry now.
But he wasn't.
Not in that way.
And not yet.
Before Emma's fingers could reach his zipper, space flickered.
Richard teleported several meters backward.
Emma looked up, momentarily confused.
"If 'anything' means that," Richard said evenly, "then I should just kill you."
"You're beautiful," he continued. "But there are many beautiful women in this world."
"If that's the only value you can offer, your life isn't worth much."
Emma rose slowly, brushing invisible dust from her skirt.
"You asked my age first," she replied. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"
"That's one part," Richard admitted calmly. "Not the whole."
"And even if I do want you," he added, "I decide when it happens. Not you."
Emma studied him for several seconds before sitting down on the sofa.
"What do you actually want?" she asked.
"Simple," Richard replied as he took the seat opposite her. "You become my subordinate."
Emma's lips curved faintly.
"And you're not afraid I'll betray you?"
"If you betray me, I'll kill you," he said plainly.
He raised his right hand.
Magic gathered instantly.
A sphere the size of an egg formed above his palm—blue-white, softly glowing, stable yet dense with contained force.
Emma's expression sharpened.
"What is that?"
"An energy construct," Richard replied. "Think of it as a remote-controlled bomb."
"The energy is perfectly balanced. As long as no one tampers with it, it's harmless."
"But if someone tries to disrupt it…"
He let the sentence trail off.
"…it explodes. Not large-scale destruction. But more than enough to reduce you to pieces."
The sphere drifted slowly toward her.
Before Emma could react, it phased through her chest and settled near her heart.
A faint blue circular mark, no larger than a fingertip, appeared at the center of her chest beneath her clothing.
She looked down briefly, then back up at him.
"So this is your method of control?"
"One method," Richard corrected. "The other involves your subconscious."
Emma's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're cautious," she said. "The world thinks you're reckless."
"It's not recklessness," he replied. "It's efficiency."
"You're a telepath," he continued. "And stronger than I am."
"If you resist, I can't rewrite anything."
"So I need your cooperation."
Emma understood exactly what that meant.
Subconscious tampering was subtle. Difficult to detect—even for telepaths.
Jean Grey had lived decades unaware of Professor X's seal on her darker personality.
If not for external triggers, she might never have known.
Emma weighed her options.
There weren't many.
If she had intended to fight, she would have done so on the rooftop.
She had chosen survival the moment she begged.
After several seconds of silence, she nodded once.
"Do it," she said calmly. "I won't resist."
"Good."
Richard didn't hesitate.
Telepathy surged outward and slipped cleanly into her mind.
He navigated through surface thoughts and descended into deeper layers—the subconscious architecture that shaped instinct and loyalty.
He worked quickly.
Suggestions embedded.
Cannot betray.
Absolute obedience to Master Richard.
Sebastian Shaw is not trustworthy.
He reinforced compliance pathways carefully, avoiding crude manipulation that might cause instability.
Then he erased specific memory segments.
Everything after the moment the energy sphere entered her body.
He left the knowledge of the sphere itself intact. The mark on her chest would remain visible under inspection; removing that memory would create contradictions.
Satisfied, he withdrew.
Emma slumped slightly, unconscious.
Two minutes later, her eyes fluttered open.
She blinked once, then focused.
Richard was seated nearby, a glass of whiskey in hand.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked casually.
"Red wine," she replied softly after a glance at the whiskey.
"There's some in the cabinet."
Without standing, Richard lifted his hand.
The wine bottle, opener, and glass floated smoothly across the room and settled before him.
He uncorked it effortlessly and poured.
He handed her the glass.
"Thank you," Emma said gently.
"You're welcome."
Richard leaned back slightly.
"Where is Sebastian Shaw right now?"
He watched her carefully.
"And besides you and Azazel, who are the other core members of the Hellfire Club?"
.....
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