History: 1962 Part 2
Warnings: Mention of abuse and dub con, also of attempted murder. Also, my entire concern that I'm making her a mary sue is a warning. She's abused! She's stronger than they think! She makes friends with teammates! Seriously, I worry I am and constructive concrit is welcome.
The Hellfire Club was not what Emma had been expecting. Maybe she'd been sheltered for too many years, knowing more about business management and her Nob Hill neighbors than she did about things like strip clubs and gambling and the sort of free for all party that the Hellfire was. Not that she had long to adjust. Sebastian was certainly one to believe in sink or swim, learn or pay. So it was that her second night there Emma found herself not at Shaw's side, watching with trepidation to all that was going on but rather locked within a cage of shimmering white bars and suspended off the ground in little but white, no gown or slacks over her elegant undergarments. For weeks Emma found herself in the cage, gyrating to the thrum of music that was meant to make the blood boil and raise the blood pressure of men already excited by the view around them.
Every afternoon she would work with Shaw, practicing and honing her telepathy until it was second nature to her. Each night she climbed into the cage, her shyness quickly overcome until she moved with a natural grace, all long limbs and coy smiles. It was an education that came not by choice but necessity. If she wanted out of the cage for good, she had to give Sebastian what it was he sought from her, a woman of means and motives, a woman that knew her sexuality as well as her telepathy. Long nights led to short naps, putting the same devotion to pleasing Sebastian as she had to tying to earn her father's love. Sebastian knew one thing her father did not; ignoring her would only yield the same results, whereas just enough attention and affection to make her desperate for more would get him more than he had bargained for.
Quick of wit, Emma easily took Sebastian's suggestions and went beyond his expectations. The night he told her that she'd been replaced in the cage, she merely nodded and made her way to the floor. It was the first night she had closed the curtains on herself and a guest. The first night she had worked as a telepathic transfer between a Russian national and Shaw, sharing with him everything she could find in the man's mind, everything he thought was so well kept hidden while he pawed at a teenage girl. It was the first time Emma acted as a distraction and a thief, but it was the only time she allowed one of them to actually touch her. It was the only time she put herself on the line as a whore, as a toy. Yet it wasn't Sebastian that gave her the idea to go beyond merely stealing to implanting thoughts to protect herself, to further the cause, to ensure that Janos didn't yet again find a young girl with her skin reddened from scrubbing at her porcelain perfect skin in the shower.
The look he'd given her was harsh and yet Emma knew in an instant it wasn't for her but the man that had caused her reaction. Not that he would ever say a word against Shaw. Janos wasn't like Azazel, just as Emma wasn't. They could pass. They could walk in the world and no one knew what they were, would ever guess that they were different from the next person. They didn't follow Sebastian because he was their hope for a better life. They truly believed in the cause, believed in themselves as mutants and Janos believed in the respect of women despite what culture might well show him, or even how Sebastian treated his newest mutant toy. They were both barely more than children, growing up before their time, and they would do so for a cause they believed in.
Taking her hand, not in a way intimate but to guide her through the club to a small conference room. Pulling out a chair for Emma, he scooted a chair in close and put a finger to his lips, indicating they not make a sound.
I want you to make me believe something, see something. That there is a scorpion on the table, or that we are on a sinking boat. Anything, Emma. Just use your mind to make me believe.
Frowning, Emma's fingers tightened around his.
I... I can't do that. I mean... But was it any different than when she'd told the orderly to start a fire, ensuring it spread so that no evidence of her disappearance remained? What should I make you believe?
The smile he gave her was encouraging, shaking his head so that long, silken hair flowed about his face. I can't tell you or you won't know if I actually saw it or told you I did. Think of something to shock me, to make me react. His fingers touched her cheek, still reddened from scrubbing. If you can do this then they will never touch you again. They may forever carry memories of touching you but you and I will know that it is nothing but memories.
A slow smile curved her lips, excited by the prospect of being protected. Not by a cage, or bodyguards or doctors but by her own mind, her own mutation.
It was the first of many sessions where Janos helped Emma to hone her skills. Not by fear. Not by threat of abandonment but because a cause brought them together, made them work to ensure that both were the best they might be.
There was many a night after that when Emma closed the curtain, acting once more as a telepathic conduit between Sebastian and his latest mark. Not one of them ever did more than touch Emma's arm or cheek in the moments after the curtain closed. Emma never believed that Sebastian didn't know the truth, but it was never discussed so long as she provided him with the information he demanded. It was a relationship that worked well, the two working as a team, sharing and soon Emma knew her place and reveled in it. At Sebastian's side, his very pale, very cool shadow. Perfectly balanced between one another until the night he got bored and both found out Emma was more than she'd ever known.
*******
It had started as a teasing game of truth and dare between Sebastian and Azazel, though in truth it was much more a game of dare with both trying to one up the other. Lounging with a drink in hand, Emma had all but tuned them out when the blow came. Not of hand or even an object thrown but a force of pure energy, the build up that Azazel had blasted at Sebastian. A force directed at Emma. On intentionally thrown.
It was never lost on her that, in truth, it had been a killing blow. One struck with knowledge of just what it was going to do.
The couch was nearly obliterated, the edges smoldering from the pressure of the blow. Emma was no where to be seen. Azazel gaped. Riptide dashed to where the body, if there was anything left, would have been. Sebastian smirked as he took a drink, knowing he had won the game. The smirk faded as Riptide gasped, stepping back startled but looking relieved rather than upset. Instead of broken bones and flesh literally torn from the bone, Emma glimmered and sparkled, diamond and faceted and glaring murderously at Sebastian.
Sebastian who, with a whoop and a clap, embraced Emma as if he'd just inherited a million dollars with the birth of his first born son at the same moment. Sebastian who raved for hours about nature and evolution and how his faith in Emma had never been greater than in that moment. Even going so far as to assure her he'd known, deep down he'd known, that she was never in danger.
Emma smiled and nodded, willing herself back to flesh and never once letting that smile waiver. All night she had shifted back and forth, at first only having the option of all or nothing, learning how her new body worked and what it would endure. Smiling, not letting that expression fade, and being thankful that her telepathy was so expertly controlled that she wouldn't let that mask slip, that Sebastian might never known that the girl he had taken in, the girl who was so devoted to him, knew in that moment that he would kill her as easily as another if the mood suited him.
It didn't change how she treated him, didn't diminish her devotion, but it changed her in an instant. She was a commodity as much as she was his girl and in that instant when flesh had turned to diamond, Emma had grown up and first felt herself a woman.
The Hellfire Club was not what Emma had been expecting. Maybe she'd been sheltered for too many years, knowing more about business management and her Nob Hill neighbors than she did about things like strip clubs and gambling and the sort of free for all party that the Hellfire was. Not that she had long to adjust. Sebastian was certainly one to believe in sink or swim, learn or pay. So it was that her second night there Emma found herself not at Shaw's side, watching with trepidation to all that was going on but rather locked within a cage of shimmering white bars and suspended off the ground in little but white, no gown or slacks over her elegant undergarments. For weeks Emma found herself in the cage, gyrating to the thrum of music that was meant to make the blood boil and raise the blood pressure of men already excited by the view around them.
Every afternoon she would work with Shaw, practicing and honing her telepathy until it was second nature to her. Each night she climbed into the cage, her shyness quickly overcome until she moved with a natural grace, all long limbs and coy smiles. It was an education that came not by choice but necessity. If she wanted out of the cage for good, she had to give Sebastian what it was he sought from her, a woman of means and motives, a woman that knew her sexuality as well as her telepathy. Long nights led to short naps, putting the same devotion to pleasing Sebastian as she had to tying to earn her father's love. Sebastian knew one thing her father did not; ignoring her would only yield the same results, whereas just enough attention and affection to make her desperate for more would get him more than he had bargained for.
Quick of wit, Emma easily took Sebastian's suggestions and went beyond his expectations. The night he told her that she'd been replaced in the cage, she merely nodded and made her way to the floor. It was the first night she had closed the curtains on herself and a guest. The first night she had worked as a telepathic transfer between a Russian national and Shaw, sharing with him everything she could find in the man's mind, everything he thought was so well kept hidden while he pawed at a teenage girl. It was the first time Emma acted as a distraction and a thief, but it was the only time she allowed one of them to actually touch her. It was the only time she put herself on the line as a whore, as a toy. Yet it wasn't Sebastian that gave her the idea to go beyond merely stealing to implanting thoughts to protect herself, to further the cause, to ensure that Janos didn't yet again find a young girl with her skin reddened from scrubbing at her porcelain perfect skin in the shower.
The look he'd given her was harsh and yet Emma knew in an instant it wasn't for her but the man that had caused her reaction. Not that he would ever say a word against Shaw. Janos wasn't like Azazel, just as Emma wasn't. They could pass. They could walk in the world and no one knew what they were, would ever guess that they were different from the next person. They didn't follow Sebastian because he was their hope for a better life. They truly believed in the cause, believed in themselves as mutants and Janos believed in the respect of women despite what culture might well show him, or even how Sebastian treated his newest mutant toy. They were both barely more than children, growing up before their time, and they would do so for a cause they believed in.
Taking her hand, not in a way intimate but to guide her through the club to a small conference room. Pulling out a chair for Emma, he scooted a chair in close and put a finger to his lips, indicating they not make a sound.
I want you to make me believe something, see something. That there is a scorpion on the table, or that we are on a sinking boat. Anything, Emma. Just use your mind to make me believe.
Frowning, Emma's fingers tightened around his.
I... I can't do that. I mean... But was it any different than when she'd told the orderly to start a fire, ensuring it spread so that no evidence of her disappearance remained? What should I make you believe?
The smile he gave her was encouraging, shaking his head so that long, silken hair flowed about his face. I can't tell you or you won't know if I actually saw it or told you I did. Think of something to shock me, to make me react. His fingers touched her cheek, still reddened from scrubbing. If you can do this then they will never touch you again. They may forever carry memories of touching you but you and I will know that it is nothing but memories.
A slow smile curved her lips, excited by the prospect of being protected. Not by a cage, or bodyguards or doctors but by her own mind, her own mutation.
It was the first of many sessions where Janos helped Emma to hone her skills. Not by fear. Not by threat of abandonment but because a cause brought them together, made them work to ensure that both were the best they might be.
There was many a night after that when Emma closed the curtain, acting once more as a telepathic conduit between Sebastian and his latest mark. Not one of them ever did more than touch Emma's arm or cheek in the moments after the curtain closed. Emma never believed that Sebastian didn't know the truth, but it was never discussed so long as she provided him with the information he demanded. It was a relationship that worked well, the two working as a team, sharing and soon Emma knew her place and reveled in it. At Sebastian's side, his very pale, very cool shadow. Perfectly balanced between one another until the night he got bored and both found out Emma was more than she'd ever known.
*******
It had started as a teasing game of truth and dare between Sebastian and Azazel, though in truth it was much more a game of dare with both trying to one up the other. Lounging with a drink in hand, Emma had all but tuned them out when the blow came. Not of hand or even an object thrown but a force of pure energy, the build up that Azazel had blasted at Sebastian. A force directed at Emma. On intentionally thrown.
It was never lost on her that, in truth, it had been a killing blow. One struck with knowledge of just what it was going to do.
The couch was nearly obliterated, the edges smoldering from the pressure of the blow. Emma was no where to be seen. Azazel gaped. Riptide dashed to where the body, if there was anything left, would have been. Sebastian smirked as he took a drink, knowing he had won the game. The smirk faded as Riptide gasped, stepping back startled but looking relieved rather than upset. Instead of broken bones and flesh literally torn from the bone, Emma glimmered and sparkled, diamond and faceted and glaring murderously at Sebastian.
Sebastian who, with a whoop and a clap, embraced Emma as if he'd just inherited a million dollars with the birth of his first born son at the same moment. Sebastian who raved for hours about nature and evolution and how his faith in Emma had never been greater than in that moment. Even going so far as to assure her he'd known, deep down he'd known, that she was never in danger.
Emma smiled and nodded, willing herself back to flesh and never once letting that smile waiver. All night she had shifted back and forth, at first only having the option of all or nothing, learning how her new body worked and what it would endure. Smiling, not letting that expression fade, and being thankful that her telepathy was so expertly controlled that she wouldn't let that mask slip, that Sebastian might never known that the girl he had taken in, the girl who was so devoted to him, knew in that moment that he would kill her as easily as another if the mood suited him.
It didn't change how she treated him, didn't diminish her devotion, but it changed her in an instant. She was a commodity as much as she was his girl and in that instant when flesh had turned to diamond, Emma had grown up and first felt herself a woman.