MFG - Chapter 39 (Patreon)

Chapter 39: The Bear and the Bear Trap 

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The bedroom was thick with the scent of indulgence and sex. 

The air was heavy with the mingled aromas of jasmine, sandalwood, and the heat of entwined bodies. Sebastian Shaw lay shirtless across an extravagant bed, silken sheets clinging to his muscular frame. His hand rested lazily, cradling a glass of whiskey, and surrounding him were women draped in luxurious silks, giggling and whispering, their laughter a soft, harmonious sound that echoed through the dimly lit room. Their eyes sparkled with admiration, fixed on Shaw, each greedy for his attention.

A soft, satisfied smile played on Shaw’s lips as he reveled in the moment, enjoying the feel of delicate hands caressing his chest and the warmth of soft bodies pressed against him. This was life, this was pleasure—a kind of luxury that only someone of his status could afford.

He reached out, his hand finding the breast of the woman to his left when the room suddenly crackled with an ominous energy.

With a sudden burst of dark energy, the atmosphere in the room shattered. 

Azazel materialized, his red-skinned form appearing in an explosion of crimson smoke. The women gasped, recoiling in fear and confusion at the abrupt intrusion. Their laughter was instantly replaced by cries of alarm and bewilderment.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Shaw’s expression darkened instantly, his eyes narrowing with fury at the interruption. 

“S-sir, I—” Before Azazel could utter a word, Shaw’s hand shot out, unleashing a ripple of kinetic energy that exploded from his body.

The blast hit Azazel with the force of a freight train, sending him reeling through a nearby wall. The impact was deafening, the wall crumbling under the force as Azazel crashed through, debris scattering across the room. The women screamed, scrambling from the bed in a panic, their silken robes fluttering behind them as they fled the room.

The once luxurious bedroom was now replaced with chaos, dust, and rubble settling where there had been only pleasure moments before.

Sebastian Shaw’s cold, murderous gaze swept across the room as he rose from the bed, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Each step crushed debris under his bare feet, the sound echoing in the silent chamber. His eyes locked onto the groaning form of Azazel, who lay sprawled amidst the wreckage, struggling to push himself up.

Shaw’s towering figure loomed over the demon, casting a dark shadow that seemed to drain the remaining light from the room. “You better have a damn good reason for interrupting me, you demon bastard,” 

Without warning, his hand shot out, grabbing Azazel by the collar and yanking him up effortlessly. The demon dangled from Shaw’s grasp, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and pain.

Azazel coughed, his voice shaky as he tried to steady himself. “Forgive me, Lord Shaw,” he stammered, struggling to maintain his composure under the weight of Shaw’s grip. “But the situation… It's serious. I had to be quick.”

Shaw’s grip tightened, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “Speak,” his patience hung by a thread.

Azazel, still dangling, quickly relayed the events as he had seen them. “Lady Frost… she’s been captured. By Enrique Nova. He attacked her, beat her… I saw it with my own eyes.”

“What?” Shaw’s expression didn’t change, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Did they gang up on her? Jean Grey and Ororo Munroe? I know they’re living with him.”

Azazel shook his head, his voice trembling. “No, they didn’t meddle. They’re at Enrique’s mansion but he didn’t need them to help him deal with my lady...”

He tightened his grip, “Tell me everything.”

“Y-yes,” Azazel started, and as he spoke each word, Shaw’s mood grew sour. This was an annoying situation. After a few minutes, Azazel finished singing the whole situation.

Shaw’s eyes flickered with dark thoughts as he released the demon, letting him fall to the floor. What the fuck is going on? He grumbled, starting to pace around the room, his mind racing as he processed the information. 

How bad could the meeting have gone, for the so-called Superhero to lash at Emma that madly? Was this a front…? A trap?

Sebastian Shaw knew better than to rush into something this unpredictable, especially with Jean and Ororo involved. They were powerful mutants in their own right, and he had no intention of walking into a trap where he was outnumbered and possibly outgunned.

But the thought of Emma Frost being taken down like that—whether it was real or some elaborate ruse—infuriated him. If she had truly allowed herself to be captured, it was an insult to his power. If she was playing him… well, that was a transgression he would not tolerate.

Azazel, still on the floor, glanced up at Shaw, hesitant. “Shall I teleport you to her, Lord Shaw? We could move in now—”

“Fool,” Shaw spat, cutting him off. “This reeks of a trap. Even if it’s not, I won’t walk into their lair like a lamb to the slaughter.” He hissed, his mind already working through the possibilities. “Regardless, Emma and that insipid tiger boy will pay for this. Emma for getting caught so easily, and that bastard for touching my toy.”

He clenched his fists, the kinetic energy within him simmering just beneath the surface. The urge to lash out, to crush something, anything, was overwhelming, but he held back. He needed to be smart about this. He needed time.

If this wasn’t a trap and a real situation, he hoped that Emma wasn't dead. 

Despite her annoying attitude, she was useful. Though he was pretty sure she wasn't dead yet, a man like Enrique who's been seen around many women wouldn't kill such a fine body so early. He ought to have some fun before getting rid of her.

“Azazel,” Shaw finally said, his voice cold and calculating. “Give it time. Let them think they’ve won, that I wouldn’t come to save her. Meanwhile, I’ll send some distractions his way. Then, when the time is right… I’ll strike. And when we do, they’ll understand the true meaning of power.”

Azazel nodded quickly, his body trembling from the earlier blow. “As you command, Lord Shaw.”

Shaw’s eyes gleamed with malice as he turned away from the demon, his mind already plotting the downfall of those who dared to cross him. Emma Frost, Enrique Nova… he would make sure to give them a lesson they would never forget.

****

Jean Grey sat by the glass wall on the upper floor of the mansion, her slender form curled up in the cushioned seat as she gazed out at the sprawling gardens below. The first light of dawn was just beginning to touch the horizon, casting a soft, golden hue over the landscape. 

It should have been a beautifully calming moment, one where she could find peace, but her mind was anything but tranquil.

Her thoughts were a tangled web of confusion centered around the man who had so abruptly entered her life—Enrique Nova. 

Jean found herself pondering over the complexities of his character, trying to unravel the enigma that was buried beneath his charming exterior. Enrique was a difficult man to pin down. Confident, powerful, undeniably charismatic—he had an aura that drew people to him, but Jean had sensed something darker beneath that surface. He calculated every move he made, and although Jean couldn’t read his mind, he didn’t feel innocent. 

He had proven that time and again, most notably during the press conference where he had skillfully manipulated the narrative to protect both himself and the mutants. She couldn’t even be mad, because he had done that for her. For mutant-kind.

But that same cunning also made him dangerous. Jean knew he wasn’t above using people to achieve his goals. 

He could be kind, even protective, but there was an underlying ruthlessness to him, a willingness to do whatever it took to win, no matter the cost. Someone like him was trying to win her over… She wasn’t dense, even if she couldn’t read his mind.

As she stared out at the gardens, her thoughts shifted to their own interactions. What were they? Friends? Allies? Or something more complicated? Jean couldn’t deny the attraction she felt towards him, the way her heart had raced when they kissed. But at the same time, she couldn’t shake the wariness that had settled deep in her chest. 

Was it all just a game to him? Another calculated move in his grand plan? Or was there something genuine behind his actions?

Even if he wanted her, did she want someone like him, who was already taken and yet looking for further indulgence?

Then there is Emma. What did she do when he started beating her up? Jean’s mind kept circling back to the sudden fight between Enrique and Emma, the way he had flown off with her without so much as an explanation. 

What was going on between them? Jean wasn’t naive; that couldn’t have been a simple hero versus villain fight. She knew there was something deeper at play, some kind of power struggle or manipulation, but she couldn’t quite piece it all together. 

The lack of information left her feeling out of control, and she hated that.

Just when she sighed, a flash of movement in the distance caught her eye, pulling her out of her thoughts. Jean blinked, focusing on the figure flying towards the mansion. It was Enrique Supernova, his form cutting through the early morning light with a grace that was almost unreal. 

He hadn’t returned at all yesterday after taking Emma away, and now here he was as if nothing had happened.

Jean watched him approach, her heart tightening in her chest. Where had he been all this time? And what had he done with Emma? She would never read her close friends’ minds to confirm her suspicions, but right now, she wished she could read his mind.

As Enrique landed on the balcony just outside the glass wall, Jean’s eyes tracked his movements. He stepped inside, his gaze immediately locking onto hers, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. 

“What are you doing sitting here all alone, Jean?” Enrique’s voice was calm, and curious, as he broke the silence.

Jean shrugged, forcing herself to maintain a neutral expression even as her mind raced. She didn’t want to dive into a deep conversation with him right now, not when she was still trying to sort out her own feelings. “Just thinking,” she said, her tone carefully casual. “I needed some time alone.”

She could feel his eyes on her, scrutinizing her words, but she wasn’t about to let him in on what was really going through her mind. There was a slight edge to her voice, one she hoped he didn’t notice.

Enrique didn’t press her, though she could see the curiosity in his gaze. He simply nodded, accepting her answer without further comment. But the look on his face suggested that he wasn’t entirely convinced by her casual demeanor. He was perceptive, too perceptive.

The silence stretched on, becoming almost suffocating. Jean could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it seemed to probe beneath the surface of her words, searching for something she wasn’t ready to reveal.

After a moment, she decided it was best to remove herself from the situation. “I just… remembered, I need to feed the goldfish,” she said, standing up from the window seat. The excuse was flimsy, but it was all she had.

Enrique didn’t stop her as she walked past him, though she could feel his eyes following her every step. It was as if he was trying to figure her out, to understand what was really going on in her head, but Jean wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. 

Not now, not when she was still trying to figure it out herself.

****

Well, I was going to woo her into helping me against Shaw, but it seems she’s not ready. Enrique noted in his head. It was true. If he forced her to fight beside him now, she might get offended seeing Emma cling to his body. That’d ruin the flow he had created in her heart, that had her sitting by the window and all.

Fortunately, where he couldn’t have Jean, he had two other powerful superhumans to bring with him. 

Enrique left the room and headed toward Anna’s bedroom.

As he approached the door, he could feel the distinct hum of energy emanating from within. He pushed the door open to find Anna Marie, her back to him, standing in the center of the room. Her hands were outstretched, and a vibrant green light shimmered around her fingers, flickering and swirling as she manipulated them into various shapes.

Oh, she’s training. He paused to watch.

Constructs formed in the air before her—first a gun, then a sword, then a bomb—each one crafted with meticulous detail. The green energy pulsed and shifted, flowing from one form to the next as if it were an extension of her will. She moved with fluid grace, her concentration unwavering, her brow furrowed in deep focus.

Loki’s powers. Illusion materialization, among the many others.

Enrique couldn’t help but smile. She had the potential of some anime main character, it’d have been dangerous if she was an enemy. He watched as she conjured a magical wand, the green light intensifying as she added intricate designs to its handle.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Practicing for war, I see.”

Anna spun around, her focus momentarily disrupted, and the constructs dissolved into the air. When she saw who it was, her face lit up with a bright smile, and without hesitation, she ran to him. She leaped up, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, hugging him tightly.

“Enrique!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine excitement and affection. She held onto him like he was the most precious thing in the world, and Enrique couldn’t help but smile as he wrapped his arms around her in return.

“Missed me?” he teased, his tone light. It had only been a day.

“Always,” she murmured against his neck before pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. There was a sparkle in her gaze, the kind that only appeared when she was truly happy.

Enrique gently set her down, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked at her. “Well, I missed you too. And I have something to tell you,” he began, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “It’s about Emma.”

Anna’s expression shifted, curiosity and a hint of… something else. “What about her?”

Enrique took a moment to collect his thoughts, choosing his words carefully. She was fine with him being with other women so far, but if he told him he had just bedded the woman who was trying to kill him in the past, she might get mad.

As he explained the situation, the plan even, Anna’s brows furrowed. Each word made her shift, but she didn’t hesitate. She trusted him a lot, more than anything, and that trust was evident in the way she listened intently to every word he said. 

Five minutes passed as he explained the situation, outlining the danger and the role she would need to play. When he finished, she nodded, her expression resolute. “Alright, alright, no need to continue further. I’m in.”

There was no doubt in her voice, no hesitation. She was ready to stand by his side, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Enrique felt a swell of pride as he looked at her. It felt good to know that he had someone he could rely on.

“Good,” he said, his voice warm. “We’ll make sure this goes exactly as planned.”

Anna smiled. “Well, it’s you. So I know it will.”

Enrique looked into her eyes, a hand raising her chin up slightly. She bit her lip, as he pulled her into another embrace, his lips smothering over hers, and his body falling over hers in the bed.

Later, he convinced Greer as well. She just shrugged, accepting whatever he had planned.

****

A few days later.

The living room buzzed with a casual energy, the kids lounging on the plush sofas, chattering animatedly as the TV flickered with colorful images. Jean Grey and Ororo Munroe were settled comfortably on the couch, their attention divided between the television and the light-hearted banter of the children. 

Greer stood near the coffee table, pouring a fresh pot of coffee into a sleek glass carafe, her tail swishing lazily behind her.

Enrique Nova strolled into the room, waving at the kids who shouted him a greeting. Ignoring them, he headed towards the kitchen counter. 

The scent of freshly brewed coffee spread through the air, mingling with the scent of wood polish and leather that permeated the mansion. He reached for a mug, and Greer looked up at him, soon pouring him a generous serving of the steaming brew.

“Here you go,”

“Thanks, kitty.” As he took a sip, savoring the rich flavor, ignoring her scowl, Ororo turned her head towards him.

“Oh, right, big man,” she began, her voice cutting through the murmur of conversation. She wore a curious expression as she leaned back against the couch. “I should let you know about this. Professor Charles called. He’s curious why you kidnapped Emma.”

The room fell into a hushed silence as Ororo’s words hung in the air. All eyes shifted to Enrique. It seems everyone's curious, eh. The kids quieted down, their attention now fully on him.

“Not kidnapped, she's not a kid. Abducted is the correct word here,” he said.

“Yeah yeah, why did you do it?”

Enrique paused, the rim of the mug just inches from his lips. His mind quickly calculated the implications of the situation. How did Charles know? 

His mind raced, then it clicked.

Ah, right. Sebastian Shaw. He's trying to distract me using the X-Men. A faint smile curled at the corners of his mouth, and he lowered the mug, his eyes meeting Ororo’s with a calm, measured gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice smooth and unbothered. “She’s alive. I have my reasons to capture her—she’s a criminal.” He said in a tone as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jean and Ororo exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. 

They had faced Emma Frost before, battled her schemes and manipulations in the past. If anyone, they knew she was far from innocent, but the suddenness of Enrique’s actions still left them curious. They seemed friends, until he suddenly attacked her. Just what happened in their meeting?

The room grew tense. The air seemed to him with everyone's desire for more information that Enrique didn't want to provide.

Ororo’s gaze lingered on him, and she tilted her head slightly. “So you’re not going to release her anytime soon?” she asked, her tone more inquisitive than accusatory.

This was why she had chosen to ask, instead of letting Jean do the talking. That girl would have made it sound like an interrogation.

Enrique shrugged, in an almost infuriating nonchalance. “Perhaps never,” he replied, taking another sip of his coffee. The warmth of the liquid did nothing to soften the cold edge in his voice. “Tell Charles to sit still. I have a feeling he wants to come breaking in again and tell me ‘the law isn’t in your hands’ or some shit. I apologize for my choice of words, but I really will cave his bald head into itself this time.”

“....”

“....”

The room fell silent once more, the tension now thick enough to cut with a knife. 

Jean’s gaze flickered between Enrique and Ororo, a frown on her face. Shouldn't Ororo say something to defend the Professor?

Ororo studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged in resignation. She knew when to push and when to pull back. “Alright,” she said with a nod, her voice resigned. “I’ll let him know.”

Enrique offered her a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, before turning his attention back to his coffee. He took another sip, his thoughts already drifting to the next steps in his plan. 

He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him, but he paid them no mind. There were bigger things at play, and he had no intention of letting anyone derail his carefully laid plans.

The room remained silent, the TV still playing in the background, but no one was really watching anymore.

If Charles acted against Enrique, the people in this very room would have to fight as enemies.

****

A few hours later.

The atmosphere in Professor Charles Xavier’s office was thick with tension, the kind that seeped into the very walls and floor. The soft glow of the table lamp was the only source of light, casting long shadows that seemed to twist and stretch across the room. The oak bookshelves, filled with the knowledge of centuries, stood tall and silent.

Professor Xavier sat behind his massive oak desk, his fingers interlocked, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. The air was heavy, and the normally calm environment of his office was charged with unease. 

Around him, the X-Men stood, men of raw power now on the verge of exploding.

It was not a good sight.

Wolverine leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed. His entire body was tight, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Beast, in contrast, sat in one of the leather chairs, his posture unusually stiff, the normally calm and intellectual demeanor overshadowed by concern. 

Cyclops stood near the center, his back straight, his fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body was odd. The two new members, Colossus and Iceman, stood around them. They both wore awkward expressions, not used to this sort of atmosphere in the X-Men.

The subject at hand was sensitive. Emma Frost, abducted by Enrique Nova.

“Charles,” Beast began, his deep voice resonating through the room. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing. Whatever her past, Emma is still one of us. We’ve always protected our own.”

Wolverine grunted in agreement, the sound low and dangerous. “Hank’s right. We ain’t the kind to just let someone rot and die, not when we can do somethin’ about it.”

Colossus nodded, his massive arms crossed over his chest. “Even though she fought against us many times, she fought for the mutant kind. We owe her that much.”

Iceman shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between the team and Xavier. “Yeah, I mean… last time, well I've only heard it, but didn't you guys try to protect her from Enrique? But things went wrong back then. He still got his hands on her. Should we let him do that again…?”

Xavier sighed, his eyes heavy with weight that was growing too heavy for him. “I understand your concerns, but this situation is not as simple as it seems. Rushing in could do more harm than good. We must consider the broader implications.”

Cyclops’ head snapped up at that, his eyes blazing beneath the visor. “Broader implications? Charles, Enrique abducted her! We can’t just let that slide. It’s our responsibility to step in, no matter the risks! We're the X-Men, no?!”

Xavier’s expression didn’t waver, and his tone was firm. “Scott, this is not just about Emma. We need to think strategically. Enrique is not someone we can confront without careful planning. Have we not lost already? He is unpredictable, and his power is also beyond us.”

Scott’s fists tightened, his visor shimmering in rage. “So we just let him do whatever he wants? And what about Jean? He lost to Jean, when the Phoenix came out. In the worst case scenario, the phoenix will come out again.”

“Well, Jean is…”

“Ah right, I remember,” Scott scoffed. “She was there when it happened! When Enrique beat up Emma and took her away. Why didn’t she stop him? Why isn’t she doing something now?”

The room fell into a tense silence, Scott’s words hanging in the air. The others exchanged uneasy glances, the implications clear.

Xavier met Scott’s gaze, his voice calm but resolute. “It's best to sit still now, if we go by the threat he gave to Storm. Jean is capable of making her own decisions. I trust her judgment, and so should you. Whatever her reasons, we must respect them.” 

Scott’s frustration boiled over, his voice rising in pitch and intensity. “Her reasons? How are you sure that she's not already under his influence? You know what Enrique is capable of, Charles! How can you just sit here and do nothing?”

Xavier’s gaze softened, but his resolve remained unshaken. “Scott, I understand your anger, but this is not the time for rash decisions. We must approach this situation with caution, not emotion.”

Scott’s vision blurred with rage. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, the calm before the storm. “If you won’t do anything, then I will.”

He didn't want to stay in this room anymore.

He didn't want to hurt these people. Even if they were spineless cowards, they were his people. He didn't want to blast them to death.

With that, Scott turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind him with a force that rattled the walls. The silence that followed was deafening, each of the X-Men left grappling with the intensity of the confrontation.

Wolverine uncrossed his arms, his voice a low growl. “Kid’s gonna get himself in trouble.”

Beast nodded, his tone somber. “He’s passionate, but this situation is more delicate than he realizes.”

Xavier didn’t respond, his gaze distant, lost in the implications of Scott’s departure. The team was fracturing, and he could feel it in his bones. But there was no easy solution, no clear path forward that wouldn’t lead to more conflict.

….

Scott Summers tore through the woods, his footsteps heavy and unsteady. His mind was a storm of anger, betrayal, and confusion. The image of Jean standing by, doing nothing as Enrique took Emma, played over and over in his mind, a loop that stoked the fires of his rage.

He reached the outskirts, a desolate area marked by towering mountains and jagged rocks. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath ragged as he tried to find some release for the storm inside him. 

He looked up at the sky, his vision narrowing, and with a roar, unleashed a powerful optic blast. “RAAAAHHH!” 

The beam tore through the mountains, reducing them to rubble, but it did nothing to ease the ache in his chest. He huffed, panting, but it didn't calm him.

As the dust settled, Scott’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, his hands still trembling from the exertion. A message.

Scott’s brow furrowed as he opened it. The message was short, simple, but the words sliced through him like a knife.

[How sad. It seems your girl has been seduced by that bastard, that's why she didn't stop him... Won't you like to take revenge?]

The sender was unknown, but Scott knew who it was. Shaw. This wasn't the first time he tried to contact her.

Scott’s grip on the phone tightened, as his vision blurred with rage, and the world around him faded into the background. 

Revenge, huh…

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows across the landscape, Scott Summers made his decision.

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