The neon signs of New York City buzzed faintly as David wandered aimlessly, the noise of the streets a comforting distraction from the storm brewing in his mind.
He'd taken the suggestion to find a drink, not because he needed it, but because the idea of a cold beer sounded like a decent way to drown out the whispers in his head.
Turning a corner, he spotted a dimly lit pub with a flashing neon sign promising "Cheap Drinks and Good Times." He hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Might as well," he muttered.
But as he took another step, a different building caught his eye. Across the block , an imposing structure loomed, its entrance flanked by intricately designed iron gates. Above them, bold, gleaming letters read: Hellfire Club.
David frowned. The name tickled something at the edge of his memory, a fragment of knowledge from his old life. "Hellfire Club," he whispered to himself.
"Why does that sound familiar? Oh right, the club with Shaw and Emma playing chess pieces. Speaking of Emma, let's see if she's a good version or not before meeting her. She's one of the hottest women in this verse after all. I liked her , Storm and Jean in the X men storyline."
He stood there for a moment, staring at the building. It exuded a sense of exclusivity and power. Elegantly dressed men and women stepped in and out, their expressions confident, almost predatory.
The contrast between this place and the shabby pub he'd been heading toward was stark.
Curiosity gnawed at him.
"Not exactly your scene," a familiar dark whisper teased in his mind, laced with amusement.
David ignored the voice, crossing the street and approaching the gates. A sharply dressed man stood guard, his expression cold and calculating.
"Invitation?" the man asked, his tone clipped.
David blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, no. Just curious."
The man's eyes swept over David, lingering on his weathered leather jacket and his sharp, alert gaze.
For a moment, David thought he'd be dismissed outright, but the man's lips twitched in what might've been amusement or suspicion.
"Curiosity often gets people in trouble," the guard said, stepping aside slightly. "But if you're bold enough to wander in uninvited, perhaps you're bold enough to stay."
David raised an eyebrow but didn't respond. He slipped past the gates, feeling the weight of the man's gaze on his back.
Inside, the club was a world away from the bustling city streets. Opulence dripped from every surface, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and marble columns framed a room filled with plush velvet chairs and dark mahogany tables.
A low hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of classical music.
David scanned the crowd. The patrons here were a mix of old-money aristocrats and sleek, modern professionals. It was a far cry from the dive bars he usually frequented.
"What the hell is this place?" he murmured under his breath.
David's eyes swept the next room, taking in the crowd. The patrons were mostly wealthy aristocrats mingled with scantily dressed women , their laughter sharp and their movements almost predatory.
The energy in the room was palpable, a strange undercurrent of sexual tension beneath the elegance.
He moved carefully through the space, drawing a few curious glances but no immediate confrontations.
His well-worn leather jacket and casual demeanor made him stand out against the tailored suits and shimmering gowns, but he didn't care.
A server approached, his expression neutral but his movements precise.
"Drink, sir?" he asked, offering a tray of finely cut crystal glasses filled with dark amber liquid.
David took one, swirling the drink slightly before taking a sip. Whiskey. Expensive, smoky, and smooth.
"Not bad," he muttered, though the drink only seemed to sharpen his senses further. He savoured the taste of it. As he lingered by the bar, observing, a woman's voice cut through the low hum of conversation.
"Well, aren't you an interesting sight," the voice said, low and smooth.
David turned to see a striking woman in a gorgeous white gown standing a few feet away. Her platinum hair shone under the chandelier's light, and her piercing blue eyes locked onto his with unsettling intensity. It was the person he didn't feel like meeting right now. Emma Frost, the white queen .
"You always compliment strangers, or am I just lucky tonight?" David replied, his tone dry.
She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "You're not exactly our usual clientele. I couldn't help but wonder how someone like you managed to find their way here."
David smirked faintly. "Call it luck. Or bad directions."
The woman chuckled, though the sound was beautiful, it was fake. "Luck rarely brings people to the Hellfire Club. And bad directions? I don't think so." She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, Mr...?"
"Faust. David Faust," he supplied smoothly.
Her expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in her gaze—recognition, perhaps, or amusement.
"Faust," she repeated, as though testing the name on her tongue. "Interesting. So, tell me, Mr. Faust, do you know where you are?"
David shrugged, leaning casually against the bar. "Looks like a club for the rich and powerful to go crazy. Am I close?"
Her smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You could say that. The Hellfire Club is more than just a place for indulgence. It's a sanctuary for those who understand the value of power—and how to use it."
"Sounds like a fancy way of saying 'country club with extra steps,'" David quipped.
The woman's laughter was soft and sharp, like bells ringing. "You're amusing. I'll give you that. But this is no ordinary club. People who come here… they don't stumble in by accident."
David met her gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I'm just full of surprises."
"Maybe you are," she said, her tone thoughtful. "Or maybe you're here for a reason, even if you don't know it yet."
Before David could respond, a tall man in an immaculate black suit approached. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp features carried a smug confidence.
He placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, his eyes flicking to David with thinly veiled curiosity.
"Emma," the man said, his voice smooth but commanding, "who's your new friend?"
"Mr. Faust," she replied without looking away from David. "He wandered in off the street. Says he's curious."
The man raised an eyebrow, studying David with an appraising gaze. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing around here."
"So I've been told," David said lightly, sipping his whiskey.
The man smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, Mr. Faust, enjoy your evening. But be careful. The Hellfire Club has a way of… consuming those who don't belong."
David gave a small, wry smile. "Noted."
As the two moved away, David's eyes followed them, his mind racing. As she disappeared into the crowd, David exhaled slowly, his curiosity now fully piqued. Whatever this place was, he was certain of one thing: stepping through those gates was no accident.
"Hellfire Club," he muttered under his breath, finishing his drink. "What the hell did I just walk into?"
As Emma and Shaw moved through the crowded room, the low murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses seemed to fade as they entered a quieter, more secluded hallway.
The air was thick with an undercurrent of tension, the soft sound of footsteps the only thing breaking the silence between them.
Emma's expression was unreadable, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. "There's something different about him, Shaw," she finally said, her voice low and careful.
"When I touched his hand, I felt it—the power is almost unnatural. It's not just psychic strength; it's something… primal.
There's a raw, untapped energy buried deep inside him. I can't sense it's limits. "
Shaw's eyes gleamed with interest. "You really think he's strong enough to be of use to us?"
Emma glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she thought of David's casual demeanor. "I don't think he fully realizes what he's capable of. But he's certainly more than meets the eye. He resisted my charm without even trying."
"Interesting." Shaw's lips curled into a smile. "Bring him into the private lounge. Let's see what he's truly made of." His voice dropped to a cold edge. "And if he's as special as you think, we'll see if he's amenable to a little… persuasion."
Emma gave him a curt nod before turning toward the club's rear chambers, where the private lounge awaited. Sebastian remained behind, watching with a calculating gaze, his thoughts already drifting to the potential power David Faust might possess.