So it turns out that Ms. Brown Hair, or rather 'Hazel Kendal,' is Emma Frost in disguise.
She was acting nice enough, offering to help us get back into the Hellfire Club since my entrance and exit the last time I was here all those weeks ago didn't exactly leave the best impression but... I had Scott Summers's memories, but not his emotional biases. I'm pretty sure that the way she 'seduced' him back when they were together is a crime in several states.
But, she was helping us, so I held my tongue. No point in starting a fight and...
... Did I owe Goblin Queen an apology? I mean, everything I said stands and she started it, but... Should I be the bigger person about it? A thought for later.
"I didn't think to ask," 'Hazel' began, "but why do you need to get into the Hellfire Club?"
"I got into a fight with half the Avengers," I replied, "I'm pretty sure that I'm cool with Thor but I should probably apologize to Iron Man, Captain Marvel, and Scarlet Witch and Tony Stark has been spending a lot of time at the club."
"Fair enough," was the reply.
On the way, I shifted into my Hellfire disguise, except for the mask since I didn't really see much of a point to it, and to my surprise, Kelda changed her own symbiote suit into a matching dress. Getting past the door was awkward because the man at the door was the same one I forced my way past when I quit working for Fisk.
Working for Fisk, what a way to put it.
Anyway, she got us in but, being afternoon, several of the club's regulars were in hanging out in their period costumes and consuming expensive liquor. Few of them seemed to recognize me from a few weeks ago...
...But a couple of them were staring at Kelda.
It's at this point that I feel the need to make note that a number of the Hellfire Club's members were old, rich white men who lived down to one or more of a certain set of stereotypes about old, rich white men.
One man, old enough to be my grandfather mind you, was less staring and more... I guess Kelda might look older than she is, given how tall and muscular she was. At least, I hope that's the case.
"Good afternoon, young ladies," he said as he approached a glass of something in his hand and his breath reeked of... oh, come on, it's like two thirty in the afternoon why is he already drunk?
"We're a little busy right now," 'Hazel' replied with faux-politeness, but she was cut off by the old man raising his hand with a shushing sound. She visibly bristled at this... Pretty sure she was running this place like six months ago, so I can understand the feeling.
"So," the old man said while looking directly at Kelda, "we don't get that many of... Your kind, around here. Where are you from?"
"An unnamed village in northern Asgard," was Kelda's honest reply.
The old man hummed. "I didn't know there were black Asgardians."
This prompted Kelda to blink, and then look very closely at her hands. "...I'm not black," she said after a few moments. "More of a dark brownish color, sort of like... Maria, what was that sweet you introduced me to the other day?"
"...Milk chocolate?" I supplied.
"Yes, that. That color," Kelda replied. "A perfectly natural Aesir flesh tone... Are your eyes alright, sir?"
I sighed. "In Midgard, 'black' is commonly used to refer to people from a collection of ethnic groups, mostly from sub-Saharan Africa, who are categorized primarily by dark brownish skin as well as people who have noticeable ancestry from those regions, however," I finished, "I don't think human ethnic categories apply to Asgardians, especially in your case given how... Mixed you are." Yeah, her skin was dark but her facial features were mostly Nordic with a hint of her mother's rugged sharpness. There were Asgardians who were what would be called black on Earth, I'd seen a couple around Asgardia, but short of getting a good look at Kelda's Aesir relatives I'm not sure whether she qualifies and, honestly, ethnicity is kind of bullshit with humans, let alone hybrids of half a dozen kinds of supernatural beings no matter how perfectly it all came together.
"Weird," was Kelda's reply. "Why does it matter?"
"Because some people on Midgard have an irrational dislike, hatred, or fear of others based on things like skin color."
"Well, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." A few of the people who had been glaring at Kelda suddenly looked away.
"And some people, often the same people strangely enough," I continued with a pointed look at the old man, "have a perverse sexual fetish for other ethnic groups."
"Never mind, that's the stupidest thing I've... wait..." She looked back at the old man. "...I don't quite know how mortals age, but I think you're a little old for me."
"You'd be surprised."
"...I prefer a different sort of company."
"Preferences don't matter that much," the drunken old man said while 'discreetly' flashing his jewel-encrusted pocket watch.
"I'm seeing someone," Kelda said while making a show of grabbing my hand.
"And I'm married," was the reply, "I don't see what that has to do with—"
I pulled out my phone and snapped a shot of his face. "With all due respect," I said with appropriate sarcasm, "she's mine, we're gay, and we're also both under 18 so if you don't want me to send your picture to a sex offender website you'll kindly back the hell off."
Ole Drunky scoffed, mumbled "sapphic perverts" like a crotchety old man from the same era as his period costume, and turned around where he immediately walked into someone.
Someone who hadn't been there a few moments beforehand. A certain, smarmy, green-coated someone.
"Brave man," Loki said while taking the glass of liquor from the man's hand. "Walking up and sexually harassing a goddess like that. And in front of her... I'm sorry, what did you settle on for defining your relationship?" He asked while looking past the man
"The Midgardian terms for courting," Kelda replied.
"In front of her girlfriend, no less... And then you insult them both... A very brave man, but very stupid even before you add in that Kelda is my descendant, and even at my worst, I made sure to do right by my descendants," Loki drained the entire glass he'd stolen from the man. "Also, your taste in liquor is crap. What is this, fermented prune juice?"
"No," was the old man's startled reply.
"It is now." Loki quipped back dryly.
Suddenly the old man hunched over, then bolted down a hallway,
I rolled my eyes, "we didn't need your help, Loki."
"No, you didn't," he agreed, "but as I said, I take care of my descendants and that old pervert got my blood boiling. Besides, now the gawkers know that you have friends in high places."
"What do you want?" I could practically feel a headache coming on.
"Mostly I just wanted to check in on my favorite newlyweds," he teased.
I felt the heat rise to my face only for my embarrassment to be cut off by 'Hazel's' shout, "How did you know about that?"
This prompted both Loki and myself to stare at her before a bit of memory I'd inherited from Mr. Stark, regarding a sham cover marriage, clicked into place. Man, I should probably work on organizing my mind better... Not to self: Figure out if mind palaces are real things or if that one modern-day Sherlock Holmes show made them up.
"So, what brings you to the crotchety old men pining for the good ole days club?" Loki asked after an awkward moment of silence.
"I need to apologize to Mr. Stark about..." I waved my hand a bit.
"Okay, you do that... I'll stay here and run interference."
'Hazel' then led us into a back room that looked like some kind of lounge with a fireplace. No one was there, which was good because she locked the door behind us and then walked over to a far wall. A hidden switch opened a secret passageway and down a flight of stairs we went to find a secret laboratory.
Kelda immediately walked over to the high-tech table in the middle of the room and began examining it while Mr. Stark turned to acknowledge us.
"Thor said you'd be coming by at some point, Massacre," he said.
I looked down. "Uh, you can call me Maria, look um... I was in a bad place when we last met, I wasn't thinking clearly and... That's not an excuse, I want to emphasize that, but... I did some things that I regret and I would like to apologize for hacking your armor, webbing you to the ground, and jamming a needle in your spine."
He shrugged. "Water under the bridge."
I blinked. "What?"
"With how often heroes get into stupid fights with each other," Mr. Stark explained, "it only makes sense to grow a thick skin for that kind of thing sooner or later. We were there to make sure you weren't being controlled by Carnage or something, and to get you help and, in a roundabout way, it happened and... Would have preferred if it had worked out before you killed someone but..."
Kelda snapped to face me. "What?"
Mr. Stark had an expression that, while silent, clearly said 'Ooh, I have said too much.'
I swallowed. "When... When I was at my worst, I took a portion of the Living Abyss from someone, someone who was a danger to others due to trauma-induced illness of the mind, because it had a power I wanted but... It wasn't just bonded to him, like... Oh, wow, we've never had the symbiote talk, have we? Uh, it was merged with his very flesh and blood, so when I took it, I took his life. I didn't... I didn't mean to and... I can apologize to everyone else I hurt but I can't ever make things right with..."
Kelda grabbed me in a hug just as my eyes started to water.
"...Yeah," Mr. Stark began awkwardly. "This sort of thing was exactly what we were trying to prevent. We were hoping to just talk to you but... I'm very intelligent, but I am not particularly wise."
"Obviously," I snarked. "...Sorry."
"No, I deserved that. Shouldn't have..."
"Seriously though," I said as I began to compose myself, "why bring the mobile weapons platform, the planet-busting soldier, Ms. 'No More Mutants,' and the Warrior God if all you wanted to do what talk?"
"Because Wanda, Carol, and I all have experience with doing things we regret or pulling stupid crap when we're in a bad place, emotionally." was the response, "which we hoped we could use to try and talk you out of your scheme before you crossed a line. Thor, meanwhile, is pretty good with kids." He shrugged. "Sam and T'Challa have their own relationships with trauma and such, but they're more... Complicated in a way that it might be hard to relate to, and the Vision... I love the guy but half the time he barely understands his own emotions. But, you know, smart, not wise. It didn't really occur to us that we might be seen as a threat in that specific situation" he concluded.
"Fair enough," I admitted. "um Kelda? You can let go now."
Kelda released me. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah."
"So Kelda, is it?" Mr. Stark began, "I noticed that you had an interest in the Nano-Fabricator."
"Is that what it is?" came Kelda's reply. "I could tell just looking at it that it was some sort of forge, something suitable for the use by Midgard's greatest crafter of arms and armor, but not how it functioned."
That prompted Mr. Stark to laugh. "You flatter me. But, yeah, the fabricator works by using nanomachines to reshape materials I feed into it at the molecular level to fit with designs I program into it. I'm currently working on a little surprise for someone who stole my company, used my technology to kill innocent people, and went out of his way to try and ruin my life, and once I'm done this baby is gonna bring the final product to life."
"I'd love to see what you create with it," Kelda said with a smile.
"You might get the chance," Mr. Stark said with a shrug.
"Kelda's a Forge Goddess," I added suddenly. "I've seen some of her work, the things she makes are amazing and..."
"Well then I have to show her the finished product now," Mr. Stark replied. "If a Forge Goddess likes it then that's proof I've done something right. Is there anything else you need, Maria?"
"Not from you, no."
"Would you like me to pass along a message to the other Avengers?"
"No," I insisted, "owning up to my mistakes and apologizing is something I need to do in person."
"Fair enough."
Mr. Stark walked us out, rejoining 'Hazel' as he exited the lab and sealed the door behind him.
"Follow my lead," he said just before we exited into the main room, then loudly declared "Now I'm not so sure why a literal god of the forge would come to an old has-been like me for advice, but that should cover your needs just fine."
...I'm not sure that we needed a cover story and... 'Hazel' was looking at him knowingly and was slipping a ring back on her finger. Ms, Frost must have shared about the earlier confrontation.
"Nonsense, Sir Stark," Kelda replied as she picked up what he laid down, "even if you were not one of Mighty Thor's boon companions as one of the most experienced armorers of Midgard your insight cannot be questioned."
"You're much too kind," he concluded.
Again, I'm not 100% sure that was necessary. Not very many people were looking this way. Most of them were either engaging in their own revelry or else paying attention to the argument between Fisk and Loki on the far side of the room and... Oh. It had slipped my mind that Feilong was a member of the club. He must have come in while we were talking with Mr. Stark.
Unfortunately, he noticed me around the time I noticed him and, obviously, he had my face if ORCHIS did.
"You!" he shouted as he stomped over.
Mr. Stark sighed. "What do you want now, Feilong?"
"Not you!" he continued to shout, "her!" he said while jabbing a red finger at me.
"I'm sorry, who are you again?" I said with my most bored tone.
Feilong sputtered with rage, and in the distance, I saw Loki cease his argument with Fisk, pull a massive bucket of popcorn from thin air, and start munching on some while staring intently in our direction.
"You, you stole something from me," Feilong finally composed himself enough to speak, "and assaulted me in my place of business."
I made a show of blinking. "Oh, that Feilong," I replied. "If I recall, you dropped the charges on this alleged theft and alleged assault after your Fascist Fuckwit Friends weren't allowed to investigate them anymore, which you know, raises all kinds of questions," I said, "but in the eyes of the law I haven't done jack or shit to you," I said with a cheesy smile. Then I switched to bitter venom, "but even if I had, it's really cheap of you to complain when you stole that place of business and everything in it yourself."
The man looked like he wanted to obliterate me from existence, but it was clear that he remembered what had happened the last time he tried to blast me. "You'll get yours," he finished while seething.
"While there is nothing more I'd like to do with my time than listen to the impotent blustering of a man whose every action screams that he's compensating for his many crippling inadequacies," I replied cooly, "I literally have a dozen better things to do so if you'll excuse me..." I started to walk past him but then paused. "Actually, before I go... How did you learn my real name?"
"What?"
"The only name I gave you was 'Massacre,' but when your genocide bots misidentified me as a mutant they referred to me by my real name and seemed surprised that I used Massacre as an alias. How did you learn my real name?"
Feilong didn't answer, but the question was enough to get him to think it, and his mental defenses were shit and... That son of a bitch.
Even though Fisk was working to take down ORCHIS, that didn't stop him from leaking my identity to Feilong here when he overheard Feilong's mumbling about my encounter with him.
I locked eyes with Fisk from across the room, and I could tell that he knew that I knew. Loki munched another handful of popcorn while I contemplated my next move.
I'd sworn that I'd feed Fisk his own heart if he came after me again, but... I was trying to be better than that, and Mr. Stark probably still needed him. I'd need a more restrained revenge.
Then I noticed the band starting to ply. Just a simple ensemble playing classical music, but... It gave me an idea.
Probing Fisk's mind, I confirmed that his wife was still missing and presumed dead.
"Kelda, love, before we leave would you care to dance with me?"
It was perfect, really. I'd assert my dominance by dancing in his club whether he liked it or not, probably making some of his more... 'conservative' club patrons uncomfortable in the process and thus likely to complain to the current King of the Club, while also rubbing the fact that I was happily together with someone when he was not in his oversized face.
That, and it was an excuse to dance with Kelda.
"Of course, love," Kelda agreed and took my hands.
Kelda and I proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes doing the sort of waltzing that made other people move out of our way. When we finished, I made sure to make eye contact with Fisk again on our way out.