Three floors beneath Manhattan.
In the Hellfire Club's mahogany conference room, the light from the crystal chandelier was almost entirely swallowed by the thick velvet curtains.
Sebastian Shaw, the Black King, sat at the head of the long table, his pale fingers tapping lightly on the ebony surface, his face cold and grim, like a somber monarch.
"Gentlemen, recall that since the Hellfire Club was founded in the 1980s, only the most excellent talents in the World could join us. But what have we done all these years?
Nothing but exchanging resources, earning some money, and currying favor with high-ranking officials from various countries."
He tapped the table, one tap after another, with a rhythm that was inexplicably oppressive, making people irritable.
The White Queen, Emma Frost, narrowed her eyes, her diamond-hard fingertips silently tracing the rim of her wine glass.
"What do you want to say, Shaw?"
Black Bishop Harland Leland, with his full beard, wearing a judge's robe, his body obese, his vest straining over his belly, held a bottle of whiskey in his other hand. A heavy drinker, he always had a bottle in hand, signaling the Black King to get straight to the point.
"Gentlemen, ladies, I have decided to lead you to do something great," the Black King's voice was colder than the Arctic ice, "such as rewriting the course of history, controlling the entire World."
Riptide, who had been toying with a small whirlwind at his fingertips, paused for a moment, then continued to play with the whirlwind as if he hadn't heard. He had always been the Black King's loyal dog; he did whatever the Black King said.
"Over ten thousand nuclear warheads from countries around the globe," the Black King continued, "will become our chess pieces to reshuffle the global order."
"If I heard correctly—Black King, are you talking about destroying the World?"
Black Knight Donald Pierce froze for a moment, his mechanical arm pausing its light scratch on his chin. He looked at the White Queen in surprise. As the only two business people in the Club, they quickly exchanged glances.
He wanted to know if the White Queen, who was always inseparable from the Black King, knew about this plan.
A flicker of suspicion crossed the White Queen's eyes. As King and Queen, they had worked together, always tightly grasping the core power of the entire Club, but the Black King hadn't informed her about such a major matter beforehand.
She subtly frowned, instinctively using her psychic abilities to try to probe the Black King's mind, wanting to see what he was plotting.
Sizzle!
The White Queen's probing consciousness was like plunging headfirst into a vast, pitch-black ocean of darkness, boundless and suffocating. She was overwhelmed by an endless surge of malice, her body trembling, knocking over the wine glass beside her hand.
Crash!
The glass shattered into pieces, and everyone's gaze instantly turned to her.
"Emma?" Shaw suddenly turned to her, the crystal chandelier light shining down from above, half his face submerged in shadow, a smile on his lips, "Are you drunk?"
"Just startled by your grand plan."
The White Queen, chilled to the bone, feigned composure, a trace of an unnatural smile on her face.
Among the Club's high-ranking members, the Black King spoke, the White Queen acquiesced, and the Black Bishop remained as uninvolved as ever. The small meeting quickly passed.
Everyone, under the Black King's leadership, discussed the entire plan in detail.
Finding an excuse to slip out of the conference room, the White Queen's high heels tapped an uneasy rhythm on the marble floor. She swiftly entered the elevator, frantically pressing the door close button.
She didn't know who that person was, but it was definitely not the Black King.
That vast and evil psychic power was unlike anything she had ever encountered.
Emma Frost felt a chill. The Hellfire Club no longer belonged to her and the Black King, but had become a possession and tool of something far more terrifying.
As the elevator door was about to close, a hand suddenly slid into the elevator, blocking the door.
"In such a hurry to leave, My White Queen?"
The 'Black King's' figure blocked the elevator door.
"You are not Shaw, who are you?"
The White Queen's body quickly diamond-hardened, and just as she was about to punch, the 'Black King' single-handedly seized her by the neck, lifting her off the ground and squeezing tightly.
Crack! Crack!
The White Queen's diamond body emitted sounds of unbearable strain.
"Me? I am darkness, I am ugliness, I am slaughter… I am the embodiment of all dark consciousness of humanity, I am the Shadow King!"
The "Black King" laughed, his voice deep like a demonic sound, the corridor and elevator lights flickering. His eyes shot out astonishing ghostly glows, terrifying to behold.
"Put Me down!" Emma's diamond body reflected countless distorted and eerie 'Black King figures'. She trembled all over, her telepathy erupting with full force.
But it was like an enraged cat crashing into a writhing, living wall.
Compared to it, her psychic ability was like an infant's compared to an adult's.
Then the wall suddenly changed, as if a monstrous evil wave crashed down. The White Queen's psychic consciousness was instantly submerged in darkness, and the light in her eyes faded.
The Shadow King threw down the corpse, his cold, cackling laughter echoing in the flickering, dark corridor.
"This time—no one can stop Me anymore. The entire World will fall into My Shadow and be unable to escape!"
...
On Bear Mountain, Russell and the Scarlet Witch received Professor X's warning and realized the seriousness of the situation.
In this World, there are no other Superheroes. If the Shadow King wants to control a body, he will inevitably control the body of a powerful Mutant.
"Father and Professor X are the two most famous Mutants on Earth.
Father might be one of the targets."
Wanda's brows furrowed with worry.
Although Magneto had a psychic protection helmet, if the Shadow King first invaded someone else's body and then opportunistically surrendered, Magneto might also be affected.
Russell, however, thought of more.
The Shadow King had possessed many people. Besides Storm, who had escaped from him, and Professor X, who had once imprisoned him outside reality, there were also Psylocke, Deadpool, Jean Grey's daughter, and others…
"Who will it be this time?…"
Just as the two were about to leave with Red Tank to return.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, everyone except Russell and Red Tank felt an inexplicable chill down their spines, and their hearts trembled deeply and uneasily, as if some silent and massive terrifying creature had just passed by.
"He… He has already made his move!"
Professor X's hands pressed tightly against his temples, his knuckles turning white from the effort—a black tsunami, unprecedented, was surging in his sea of consciousness.
His voice trembled.
"The Shadow King's psychic power has swept across the globe. He found Me and is 'greeting' Me. He is more powerful than last time. I am struggling to resist him."
Jean Grey's long red hair moved without wind. She felt that evil psychic power—like billions of spiders simultaneously crawling over the cerebral cortex.
In the mental vision, the Earth was covered and enveloped by a giant Shadow firmament.
"I also sensed it."
Russell looked at the Scarlet Witch for confirmation. The Scarlet Witch also had some psychic abilities, and her face changed slightly as she said.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
"This is…"
Beast Hank's wristband suddenly blared an alarm.
"I made this alarm after Magneto's failed raid on the nuclear missile Base last time."
"The Pentagon. The Kremlin…" Sweat beaded on Beast Hank's forehead. He quickly pulled out his handheld computer and saw hundreds of red dots light up on the global map, "All nuclear weapon Bases are initiating launch procedures!"
"What?"
Rogue and Cyclops's faces changed drastically.
Again, trying to destroy the World with nuclear bombs.
"I really don't know who these human nuclear bombs were made for."
Russell sighed, looking towards the horizon.
In missile silos around the globe, controlled soldiers uniformly turned their keys, their pupils reflecting an eerie ghostly glow, and the exact same smile hung on their lips—as if they had all become someone's puppets at that moment.