"I didn't realise that would work on her," Fisk spoke from my side as we both dumbfoundedly stared at the fallen Emma Frost.
I sucked my lips in for a moment, completely unsure of what to say.
"Uh... Me neither." I quietly let out a response.
I was telling the truth. I really wasn't sure whether or not Conqueror's would work on her, but to say the least, it seemed to be rather effective.
Super effective, even.
Obviously, Emma Frost wasn't a grunt-level character, not at all, so it probably meant my earlier hypothesis was correct. Telepaths were more exposed to my Haki.
It was a great discovery.
'Total victory.'
I watched as Sebastian Shaw, the Black King of the Hellfire Club, helped Emma up. She whispered something in his ear as she rose from the floor.
[You have severely shaken Emma Frost! +6,500 FP!]
I did my best to restrain my smile upon seeing that notification. It wouldn't do well for me to burst into smiles after a lady had rather abruptly fallen to the floor.
After internally celebrating whilst looking at the screen, I noticed the Black King walking over to us... with a rather tensed expression.
He appeared older than I had expected, somewhere in his fifties. His dark hair is turning silver at his temples. Though, despite his age, his build left no room to doubt his strength.
He stopped in front of us, eyes settling on me with an intense coldness.
"Wilson." His voice remained level. "Introduce me to your associate."
Fisk, to his credit, didn't miss a beat despite his earlier surprise.
"Marcus Alexander," he said smoothly. "An employee of mine."
Shaw looked at me for a long moment, ultimately deciding to speak plainly.
"What did you just do to her?"
Shaw's question hung in the air, with me unsure of how to respond.
Around us, the gala had quietly resumed its usual rhythm. The staff had cleaned up the shattered glass in a flash, and a fresh glass had already appeared in Emma's hand. The small crowd that had gathered had been gently dispersed, and the string quartet in the corner continued playing as if nothing had occurred.
The Hellfire Club, it seemed, was well-practised at making unpleasant things disappear.
I probably fit in that category, too.
I looked at Shaw with an expression of total neutrality.
"I'm not sure what you mean," I tried speaking politely, in a tone that was rather unfamiliar to me.
Shaw's jaw tightened visibly, a detail I did not need my Sharingan to notice. He was a man used to controlling his environment, I could tell that much.
"Emma," he said, voice cold and low, "is not the type of woman to just. Fall. Over."
I almost cracked a smile at his ridiculous way of accusing me.
"Nobody's perfect," I said simply. "The champagne seems pretty strong, if you ask me."
Fisk, to my left, said absolutely nothing. But I could've sworn that I heard a slight snort of the nose come from him.
Shaw's eyes moved to Fisk briefly, then back to me.
"Leave us," he said, no, ordered Fisk.
Fisk smiled pleasantly, "I'm afraid Marcus is here as my guest, Sebastian, so I-"
"Wilson."
Shaw's voice hadn't risen in the slightest, but even an idiot could tell he was barely holding back his fury.
Fisk held his polite smile, then gave me a look, as if to say don't do something stupid before gracefully leaving the scene.
'Well, I guess there's still a pecking order.'
Fisk wasn't someone who could stand against Shaw.
Shaw turned back to me. He was taller than me by about two inches, with me being a solid six feet tall. More than that, he was wider, bearing considerable muscle mass.
"You're a telepath," he said accusitorily. It wasn't a question.
"Whatever do you mean?" I spoke whimsically.
Shaw's eyes narrowed at my response.
"Boy. Don't play with me. You are one of us, so let's not beat around the bush. Yes?"
I smiled whilst raising my eyebrow at his aggressive tone.
"Well, I wouldn't call myself a telepath."
"Then what would you call yourself?" Shaw asked.
"A scary guy," I answered with a slight smirk.
Shaw looked at me for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose. It wasn't quite a sigh, but rather the sound of a man choosing to table one argument in favour of a more productive conversation.
"Fine."
He clasped his hands behind his back, turning his gaze towards the main hall. Toward Emma, specifically, who had now fully composed herself and was speaking to a cluster of guests as if nothing had happened.
Something about the way Shaw watched her made me pause.
It wasn't concern exactly. It lacked the warmth that concern required.
It was closer to the kind of disappointment one might feel while watching an expensive piece of equipment fail after years of use.
'Interesting.'
Although my knowledge wasn't perfect, I knew that Shaw and Frost weren't exactly a friendly partnership. But seeing it up close was different. He had crossed the room to help her up in an instant, seemingly out of concern, but now it seemed that his reaction was borne from anything but.
He hadn't come to her aid out of care; he did so because her falling over in the middle of his gala was an embarrassment to him.
'So that's how it is.'
The whisper she had given him certainly wasn't a thank you. It was a report regarding me.
My knowledge regarding all these guys wasn't as solid as my information on the MCU, so I needed to file away everything I could learn here.
"So," Shaw said, returning his attention to me. "To whom exactly do you belong? Surely it can't be to a man such as Fisk."
'This guy...'
He was plainly asking about my allegiance. Well, to be fair, he was right in the fact that I held no real loyalty to Fisk. I mean, I liked the guy, he was pretty helpful, but I'd ditch him in an instant once the time called.
For the timebeing, I decided to answer honestly, interested to see where the conversation might lead.
"Nobody."
Shaw smiled at that. It was the slow, sticky smile of a man who had heard exactly what he wanted to hear.