After Emma composed herself, she gently touched the edge of her mask with her fingertips and asked in a soft voice, "What's going on?"
Forty-three years ago, during the Great War, she had refrained from direct involvement. Most of the X-Men perished before they could even take up arms. Meanwhile, a few of her old allies from the Hellfire Club had joined the fray, though the results were catastrophic.
Clint, standing nearby, didn't deny her accusations of betrayal. Back then, he had indeed turned against the superheroes. But now, Quicksilver's sudden reappearance left her shaken.
When Pietro's Avengers team had fallen, the event had been broadcast live on television. The tragedy had driven countless people to Las Vegas to verify the truth for themselves, finally confirming the hammer's ominous presence.
Pietro remained silent, his gaze flitting between Emma and Black Bolt before landing on Adrian. His eyes seemed to ask, Should I tell her?
Adrian gave him a firm nod.
Pietro took a deep breath and began recounting their journey: from the flashes of lightning in the Zombie Universe to Magneto's demise in the desolate wastelands.
In this universe, Pietro held no affection for his father. Magneto's death was merely another loss in a string of countless tragedies. Even in the original universe, his relationship with Magneto had been far from ideal.
When he and Wanda were teenagers, their lives had been marked by chaos. Wanda, unable to control her powers, accidentally set a house ablaze, inciting the wrath of superstitious villagers. Armed with pitchforks and torches, the mob sought to execute the "witch" on the spot.
Pietro had tried to shield his sister with his fledgling powers, but he was quickly overwhelmed. Just when all seemed lost, Magneto had appeared, saving them both. In return, he had demanded their allegiance to his Brotherhood of Mutants.
Emma listened intently, her fingers resting on her chin as she processed Pietro's story. She maintained her usual air of composure, though an undercurrent of turmoil stirred within her.
She shifted her gaze to Adrian, now sitting confidently across from her. According to Pietro, Adrian had led their escape from the Zombie Universe and had slain countless villains in the Wastelands.
"So, what do you want, Mr. Adrian?" Emma asked, her voice sharp yet measured. "Did you travel all the way to the Mutant Forbidden Zone just for idle conversation?"
She picked up a glass of champagne from a waiter, tracing the rim of the glass with her finger. Tiny bubbles rose to the surface, sparkling like fleeting memories of better days.
"Or," she continued with a sinister edge to her voice, "are you planning to kill us, just as you did Erik?"
The air grew tense. Adrian caught the faintest flicker of movement—Black Bolt's nostrils flared ever so slightly as he controlled his breathing. Behind him, Pietro's muscles tensed, ready to strike. The rest of the group subtly prepared for a fight.
Adrian broke the silence with a wry smile. "Certainly not. We're not barbarians who kill indiscriminately."
The tension in the room eased, and the waiter stepped forward to offer glasses of champagne to everyone present. Adrian took one but placed it on the glass coffee table in front of him without drinking.
Instead, he fixed his gaze on Emma. "Before I reveal our true intentions, you'd better explain why you betrayed the heroes all those years ago," he said, his tone firm.
"It's important," he added, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.
Emma hesitated. Her blue eyes glimmered with a conflicted light, as though weighing whether to reveal the truth. Her lips parted slightly, but the words didn't come easily.
Aside from the faint sound of champagne bubbles popping, the room was silent.
Finally, after a long pause, she spoke. "They had Doctor Doom, Loki, Red Skull, Dormammu, Magneto… nearly every villain you could think of was part of their plan. We didn't stand a chance."
Her voice was steady but tinged with a quiet resignation. "My marriage to Doom was a last resort."
Emma wasn't trying to justify her choices but wanted the others to understand that she had made difficult decisions to protect herself and ensure the survival of mutants.
"That's your reason?" Clint scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment. "You'd have been better off admitting you willingly joined Red Skull's side than surrendering without a fight."
Adrian remained quiet, lightly drumming his fingers on his thigh as if contemplating her words. His expression was unreadable, a mix of indifference and curiosity.
After a moment, he stopped drumming and leaned forward slightly. "You betrayed the heroes for your survival and the survival of your kind," he said. "But would you betray Doom for the same reason?"
Emma's eyes narrowed as she studied him. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.
Adrian glanced around the hall with mock amusement. "Judging by the state of your palace, I'd say your relationship with Doom isn't exactly… harmonious."
The once-opulent hall bore the scars of neglect. The luxurious murals on the walls were fading, and the statues displayed visible cracks. Even the grand chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings had lost their brilliance.
Emma's expression darkened. She knew better than anyone that the glory of this place was long gone.
Though she had married Doom for political gain, his promises had turned out to be hollow. They had grown distant over the years, and Doom had proven immune to her telepathic abilities.
Now, she had to work harder than ever to maintain the illusion of grandeur, much like she used telepathy to make others believe she was still young.
Adrian tilted his head, meeting her gaze with an almost predatory smirk. "I'll give you what every aging queen desires," he said, lifting his wrist to display faint blue veins beneath his skin.
Emma raised an eyebrow, skeptical yet intrigued. "And what would that be?"
"Immortality," Adrian replied, his voice steady and laced with confidence.