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The social etiquette among the upper class and elite circles often involves a facade of camaraderie and politeness while concealing backstabbing and scheming behind the scenes.
A place like the Hellfire Club serves as a networking platform where guests generally maintain a level of decorum and avoid serious conflict.
But today was an exception.
There was no particular reason for it - it was just a simple matter of disliking someone. And so, in front of everyone, a slap was delivered.
Caesar maintained a warm smile, and if Griff's face hadn't been swollen, the onlookers might have thought it was all an accident. His calm yet arrogant words caused the guests to gasp in shock, even stunning Moira who was standing in the corner of the room.
"This is my chance..."
Moira snapped out of her daze as she saw the security guards closing in on Caesar. She quickly got up from the sofa and stealthily made her way to Colonel Hendry's private room.
At that moment, everyone's attention was focused on Caesar, so naturally no one noticed Moira's movements.
"What now?"
Caesar glanced at Moira's retreating figure. Like an entitled young master who wouldn't let things go, he didn't wait for the angry Griff to speak before continuing, "Not convinced you're trash?"
"You little brat, I will kill you! I swear I'll kill you!"
Griff could no longer contain his anger. His hair and beard seemed to bristle with rage as he lunged at Caesar, who stood calmly in front of him. Caesar didn't dodge or defend himself, watching Griff like a clown.
Just as Griff was about to reach him, several large, burly guards sprang forward, grabbed Griff by his limbs, and held him in place, preventing him from moving an inch.
"What are you doing? You've got the wrong guy! It's him! He's the one making trouble! Do you know who I am?" Griff's eyes were bloodshot as he struggled desperately, screaming at the top of his lungs. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break free of the guards' grip.
The sunglasses-wearing guards stood unmoved, pinning Griff to the ground.
"Take care of him. I don't want to see him again tonight," Caesar said casually to the manager who had rushed over.
The manager, sweating heavily, nodded quickly. "Yes, Your Grace. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. Your expenses for tonight are on the house. I hope you have a more pleasant evening."
Caesar nodded slightly and walked back to the sofa, the onlookers instinctively parting to make way for him.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Griff. It's not that our club doesn't respect you, but you've offended someone you shouldn't have," The manager said, shaking his head regretfully. He then instructed two security guards, "Escort him out of Las Vegas.
"Your Grace... Your Grace?" Griff had given up resisting, muttering to himself, his face drained of all color.
In a club like this, when a conflict arises, the security guards aren't like the police - they don't care who's right or wrong. Whoever has the higher status is in the right. And a simple Italian diplomat can't be compared to a duke of a great power.
Caesar returned to his seat on the sofa, but Moira, disguised as an escort, was nowhere to be seen.
"Has she made her move?" Caesar smiled faintly, sitting down and picking up his wine glass to continue sipping his drink. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked into Colonel Hendry's private room.
His deep blue eyes glowed faintly, and the curtain blocking his view was instantly pierced by his Superman-like vision, revealing everything inside.
Caesar clearly saw that the private room was empty. Focusing his vision further, he could see beyond the walls, revealing what was hidden within.
The private room had a well-concealed secret chamber just behind a wall. Inside the chamber was a study filled with various world maps and intelligence files. Moira had already infiltrated the chamber and was crouching beside the desk, her rounded hips swaying as she deftly rifled through the cabinets, searching for intelligence files.
"That technique... CIA, perhaps?" Caesar mused, shaking his head. Just then, Moira seemed to hear something and looked to another, even deeper part of the study.
"Hmm?" Caesar's expression changed as he also looked in that direction.
The innermost room, though another secret chamber, was spacious and luxuriously furnished, complete with a comfortable conference table and chairs.
Inside the second secret chamber...
The White Queen was seated with a middle-aged man, while a non-mainstream young man in a suit sat on a high stool nearby, drinking alone. Colonel Hendry, the host who had invited them, sat on the other side with his legs crossed.
The middle-aged man and Colonel Hendry seemed to be discussing something, and when their negotiations failed, both of their expressions became displeased.
Caesar loosened some of his Superman-like hearing restrictions, and the conversation behind several walls reached his ears clearly.
Colonel Hendry glared at the middle-aged man and sneered, "Mr. Shaw, you want me to change my mind and support the deployment of missiles in Turkey. That's practically impossible. We both know that if the missiles are deployed in Turkey, the Soviets will surely react, and if that triggers a war between the two countries, neither of us can bear the consequences."
"Colonel, don't be so quick to draw conclusions," Shaw's face turned slightly cold.
"Then there's nothing more to discuss," Colonel Hendry frowned, cautiously reaching for the pistol at his waist.
"Let's try another method of negotiation," Shaw said before clapping his hands.
The non-mainstream young man, hearing the signal, immediately stood up and extended his left hand and a whirlwind appeared in the palm of his hand, growing in size to become a small tornado.
"What did you put in my drink?!" Colonel Hendry stood up in horror, mistakenly believing they had drugged him, causing him to hallucinate.
The young man thrust his hand forward, sending the whirlwind toward Colonel Hendry. It lifted him three or four feet into the air before slamming him heavily onto the sofa.
Colonel Hendry struggled to his feet, drew his gun and fired at Shaw. But the White Queen stood up and shielded Shaw, her body turning into a brilliant, crystalline diamond.
*Clang, Clang, Clang!*
The bullets hit the White Queen's diamond form, producing only sparks without causing any damage.
Colonel Hendry's mouth hung open in despair, and the weapon fell from his hand as he realized resistance was futile.
"Impressive, isn't it? The superpowers derived from gene mutation," Shaw smiled at him, understanding that all authority and wealth were meaningless in the face of absolute power.
Colonel Hendry slumped silently on the sofa, realizing that he was powerless against these mutated humans.
"Where is Azazel?" Shaw asked.
The White Queen tilted her head and blew a sharp, piercing whistle.
In a flash of red flame, a young man with demonic features and red skin appeared out of nowhere in the air and extended his left hand toward Colonel Hendry.
Colonel Hendry hesitated for a moment but finally took his hand. The red flames flared again and they both disappeared from the secret chamber.
In just a short time, the three mutants had displayed their unique abilities, a scene that was not only observed by CIA agent Moira but also by Caesar in the club's main hall.
"Four mutants," Caesar muttered to himself, his interest growing.
In the Marvel universe, individuals with unique abilities were rare, and they were often either villains or superheroes.
However, in the current X-Men universe, due to the prevalence of mutated genes, mutants were emerging continuously among the human population, numbering in the thousands. Most of these mutants hid among ordinary people, like Charles and Raven.
The X-Men universe is a world teeming with talent, where superhumans abound, and powerful beings roam the Earth.
(End of the chapter)