Miami
Sun deck of a luxury yacht
The White Queen—blessed with blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, a statuesque figure, and long, elegant legs—reclined on a lounge chair, sunglasses perched on her face as she basked in the ocean breeze and warming rays of the sun.
Though the Hellfire Club's dinner would commence at 8 PM the day after tomorrow, neither the White Queen, Black King Shaw, Red Devil Azazel, nor Riptide had traveled to Las Vegas, preferring to remain in Miami. With Azazel's teleportation abilities at their disposal, they could arrive at any destination instantaneously, eliminating any need to stay in Las Vegas beforehand.
As the White Queen contentedly enjoyed her sunbathing session, Riptide—Janos Quested—approached in his pristine white suit and addressed her:
"We've received word from Las Vegas. Our contact spotted both Remy LeBeau and Richard Wesley at one of the casinos."
Richard Wesley?
Hearing Riptide's report, the White Queen removed her sunglasses and frowned slightly.
"Wasn't he still in San Francisco earlier today?"
"Evidently, he's since departed. Given his teleportation abilities, his swift arrival in Las Vegas isn't particularly surprising," Riptide explained.
"Does Shaw know about this?" The White Queen sat upright, her attention fully captured.
"He's the one who instructed me to inform you. He wants you and Azazel to travel there immediately and extend an invitation to our dinner." With that, Riptide extracted a Hellfire Club invitation from his jacket pocket and offered it to the White Queen.
"Why should I be the one to go? Azazel can handle this kind of errand independently."
The White Queen made no move to accept the invitation, her confusion evident.
"Because Wesley is also a telepath. Shaw believes your presence alongside Azazel would provide additional security," Riptide replied evenly.
Richard is a telepath?
The White Queen's frown deepened at this revelation.
While telepathic abilities weren't exceptionally rare, they certainly weren't commonplace. When Richard had attained S-class wanted status with the Department of Mutant Affairs, the Hellfire Club had begun collecting intelligence on him. The White Queen had personally reviewed this information, yet she couldn't recall any mention of telepathic capabilities.
"Where did this information about his telepathy come from?" she questioned. "The Department of Mutant Affairs? The Avengers? Perhaps the X-Men?"
"Don't ask me—I'm as much in the dark as you are. Shaw simply informed me," Riptide admitted.
Like the White Queen, Riptide had only learned of Richard's telepathic abilities today—specifically when Shaw had handed him the invitation. As for Shaw's information source, he remained ignorant. The Black King had volunteered nothing, and Riptide hadn't inquired—a mutual understanding they maintained.
After a moment's contemplation, the White Queen conceded:
"Leave the invitation. I'll accompany Azazel later."
"Excellent."
Riptide placed the invitation on the table before the White Queen. As she replaced her sunglasses and resumed sunbathing, his gaze involuntarily lingered on her alluring form, his appreciation unabashedly evident.
Despite no shortage of female companionship in his life, this did nothing to diminish his interest in the White Queen. This attraction wasn't unique to him—both Black King Shaw and Red Devil Azazel harbored similar fascinations with her.
Such interest in beautiful women represented a fundamental masculine trait, encoded in DNA itself. Exceptions existed, of course—men with certain physical conditions or those whose preferences aligned differently—but any typical man would naturally appreciate feminine beauty.
The primary distinction lay not in the attraction itself, but in whether one acted upon it and how one approached the object of desire.
Though Shaw, Azazel, and Riptide all found the White Queen captivating, none entertained notions of coercion. Partly, this stemmed from her status as their colleague. More importantly, the White Queen wasn't a defenseless woman lacking power.
Her telepathic abilities alone posed significant challenges. Beyond that, she possessed the capacity to transform into living diamond. Simply put, unless she proved willing, any attempt to force themselves upon her would inevitably fail.
Riptide made no attempt to conceal his admiring gaze.
The White Queen remained indifferent to his attention—or rather, she had long since grown accustomed to such regard. In truth, she rather enjoyed it, as it affirmed her beauty and magnetic appeal.
After allowing his eyes to linger appreciatively on the White Queen's form, Riptide departed the sun deck. He disembarked from the yacht, intent on spending time with his lover in downtown Miami.
Las Vegas
Richard remained unaware that the White Queen and Azazel would soon deliver him an invitation.
At present, he stood in an exclusive bespoke tailor shop that accepted only private commissions, having his measurements taken for a custom suit.
Though suits lacked the convenience of casual or athletic wear, they remained essential attire for the mature gentleman. Suits served as modern armor for men of sophistication!
In certain settings, a perfectly fitted suit effectively showcased one's character and charm. Additionally, even combat conducted while wearing a suit—provided one's appearance remained sufficiently handsome and movements adequately graceful—conveyed the unique charisma of a "suit thug."
Richard's decision to commission custom suits stemmed from a simple realization. After reviewing footage of his battle with Hulk earlier that day, he'd identified a previously overlooked issue: his attire!
His clothing had been disappointingly casual!
Sephiroth's immense popularity derived not solely from his formidable strength and attractive features, but also from his distinctive appearance—silver pauldrons, flowing black coat, and subtly visible muscular chest.
Given the option, Richard wouldn't hesitate to don attire identical to Sephiroth's for his visit to the Atomic Nightclub. Unfortunately, acquiring such unique garments proved currently impossible.
In the film, when the "thought form" Kadaj merged with Jenova's cells to resurrect Sephiroth, both Sephiroth's clothing and his Masamune blade had been conjured from pure energy.
Richard had previously attempted to manifest Sephiroth's outfit through magical means. However, whether due to insufficient template fusion or inadequate mastery of mana manipulation, he currently lacked the ability to transform energy into Sephiroth's signature clothing.
Since perfect replication of Sephiroth's ensemble remained beyond reach, custom-tailored suits would serve as an acceptable alternative. Adorned in an expertly crafted suit while wielding the six-foot Masamune, he could execute the "suit thug" aesthetic with considerably more panache than if clothed in casual or athletic wear.
Unlike his time playing Texas Hold'em at the casino, Richard wore no disguise now. The tailor shop contained only the elderly master tailor—reportedly formerly employed by the British royal family—a handful of assistants, and himself as the sole customer.
Upon entering, Richard had employed telepathy to alter his appearance in the minds of everyone present. Though unable to simultaneously influence the perception of thousands, affecting a dozen or so individuals posed no challenge.
Such exclusive establishments — accepting only private commissions and led by a former royal tailor — catered to a remarkably small number of clients each year. Yet despite their limited clientele, they embodied a simple principle: "Closed for three years, earn enough for three years the moment they reopen."
Before his transmigration, Richard had never patronized such an establishment, though the original Richard had visited several times. After all, as the quintessential wealthy heir, he had accompanied his father to numerous formal dinners and galas since childhood.
Time passed gradually.
The measuring process alone consumed nearly thirty minutes—and this represented merely the beginning. Fabric selection, collar style, button materials, and numerous other details awaited his consideration.
After spending over an hour in the tailor shop, Richard completed all necessary processes for his bespoke suits.
Peaked lapels, double-breasted cut, Prince of Wales check pattern...
Black double-breasted striped jacket, crisp white shirt, black twill tie, polished black Oxford shoes...
To receive his suits within two days—a process typically requiring one to two weeks—Richard paid a substantial expedition fee. The total for two suits reached $12,000, effectively depleting his casino winnings in a single transaction.
Though expensive, he regarded the expense trivially. For him, acquiring money now proved easier than quenching thirst. Should he desire, billionaire status remained perpetually within reach.
After providing his hotel room number, he departed the tailor shop, donned his sunglasses and baseball cap, and strolled leisurely toward a nearby casino.
...
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