-4-
"Emma? Emma Frost?" Sebastian Shaw couldn't quite hide the pleasure in his voice when he heard hers on the other end of the phone. He'd missed her -- in more ways than one. She had ever been a fitting companion and foil. Their tussles had helped him keep his edge. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"To the fact that I am done with my ... Sabbatical. I'm ready to return to the Club, rife with knowledge, a new, stronger power base, and a protege beneath my wing." It had taken Bumpkin from Christmas Eve to the 30th to locate Shaw in his Brazilian villa. Emma had busied herself in the time intervening. "The plane's already in the air. Do say you'll join me? I have already heard about the rabble who seek to have taken our places, Sebastian. While they're short-sighted and foolish, they do represent a lucrative source of financial nourishment to the Inner Circle.
"I believe once informed who their mistress is, they'll come to heel."
Shaw's brow arched dubiously. "My. You sound much like the old Emma I feared lost forever."
"Come to New York and you'll see exactly how much like the old Emma I am, Sebastian."
Shaw chuckled over his brandy snifter. "An enticement like that, and you expect me to refuse? Dear Emma, I am at your service." He rose, pausing to adjust his trousers, before striding across the room for his jacket.
"Of course you are."
Switch had stricken out on the beach at florida. Between her telepathic ululations in his skull and her having seduced him, Emma knew Switch was utterly, unshakably loyal to her. For a teen, he was singularly talented. He credited his mutant body-snatching ability with the side effect of having picked up residual psionic traces from the people he switched with.
Magma hadn't needed coercing; Emma had so much as mentioned the Hellfire Club, and Amara had stepped forward.
Everett, Jubilee, Paige Guthrie, and Penance had fled to Westchester when Emma offered them the opportunity to remain or join her. Angelo Espinosa had also chosen to go to Xavier. Jonothon Starsmore, however, had asked her one simple question: [~Will yer do what yer can to give me me chest back?~]
Emma had answered honestly; she said she'd make more of an effort than she ever had been permitted to while under the auspices of Xavier. That had been enough for Chamber.
Leech had protected Artie; it was a loss Emma regretted, but knew she could recoup in the future.
So it was that when she met Shaw at Kennedy Airport, she had Monet and Jono beside her. "Sebastian Shaw -- meet my White Bishop and White Rook -- Arete and Chamber." Switch, also in the limousine, was introduced as her bodyguard.
Shaw raised one brow thoughtfully and kissed Emma's hand after studying the pair before him. "You *have* been busy, haven't you, my Queen?"
"You have no idea."
"You realize we will encounter -- resistance when we return to the mansion in New York?"
"Sebastian. Darling." Emma smiled over her champagne flute. "I'm *counting* on it."
Daimon Hellstrom lifted his head in alarm. Since he had insinuated himself into the Hellfire Club and become its Black King, he had magickally warded the mansion. The tingle racing over his skin like fiery droplets of icy light was an indication that someone was approaching -- someone with sufficient power to threaten his new position.
"Selene. Trouble. Get DaCosta down here at once, and have Blackheart prepare in the lower levels."
"Of course, Daimon." The Black Queen was solicitous in words, but Hellstrom could sense her bristling that he presumed to order her around. "What has you so -- disturbed?"
"I don't know yet, but don't you feel it as well?" Hellstrom paced impatiently, and tweaked at the fibres of magic he had woven into the walls.
"I feel only your distress and DaCosta's reticence. The demon below is contentedly watching the insipid mundane festivities on the television he had been begging for." Selene was supremely confident. Hellstrom considered it her weakness. X-Force had been able to defeat her, and *they* were a bunch of kids. She seemed to think that having blackmailed Sunspot into taking the position as her Black Rook made her invincible.
Tessa strode up the stairs with Bumpkin beside her, and knocked on the door to the Hellfire Club's New York mansion.
Emma and her three charges stood behind Tessa, and Shaw took up the rear, back in his finery.
The maidservant paled and ran for Daimon on opening the door and realizing who was there. Emma and her coterie, as a result, entered uncontested.
A week's research and psionic probing had sufficiently prepared Emma for what she would encounter. Shaw's strength would stand her in good stead against Sunspot. Her telepathic charges would hold her against any of Hellstrom's minions -- and Switch?
He caught Selene by surprise, under masque of telepathic screening by Emma.
"Long live the Queen," Emma chuckled, settling in by the fire.
[~That were easy, Em,~] Chamber said dubiously.
"If Emma means to simply return to active membership, I have no quarrel with her. And clearly she made it obvious she didn't want to fight by subduing Selene before our Black Queen could stir up any trouble."
Selene, trapped in Switch's body, seethed. By the fire, Switch -- in Selene's body, marvelled at his present curvaceous state.
"I cede to the Black King, but will remain as Black Knight if he will have me." ~The better to make certain their goals aren't overly nefarious.~
"Accepted," Shaw said, after a glance to Emma for her assent.
"This was simple," Monet marvelled.
"Flawless," Emma corrected, striding down the hall to the stairs. "I wish to meet Blackheart. And see that DaCosta is brought down as well. I don't want any unpleasant surprises later."
Hellstrom hovered at Frost's elbow, explaining that Blackheart was not permitted beyond the lowest levels of the mansion...and that his demesnes was not especially pleasant.
Emma's white gown was immaculate,despite the seething blacks and reds of the room Blackheart occupied. The demonic entity didn't even look up -- he stared in fascination at the seventy inch flatscreen TV on the wall opposite him.
"What, you've never seen a New Year's Rockin' Eve special before?" Switch asked, incredulous.
"That, among other things. I'm looking forward to the fireworks at midnight." The demon's voice was like silk soaked in crude oil. "Please. Have a seat. I'll be with you at 12:01. In the meantime, don't say a word. I don't want to miss a second."
Frost chuckled, but indulged the demon. Like Hellstrom, he seemed content to let her regain her position in the Club without a tussle. Regally, she settled into a chair, and turned to watch.
"...only two minutes left," Dick Clark was saying. "And we bid a warm goodbye to 1999, the 20th Century, and the Millennium." His eyes darted frantically, rather than staying on the camera with his characteristic ease.
"His makeup looks terrible," Monet observed.
"He looks nervous," Roberto DaCosta observed as well, bowing to kiss Emma's hand. "You would think that after however-many of these things, he would be able to do them in his sleep. White Queen." His charms were polished as ever; his psionic shielding was taught by Xavier, so Emma could not yet determine whether he was an ally or an enemy. She made a mental note to introduce him to Monet later.
"One minute..." Dick Clark said from the television. Sweat was visible on his forehead although the readout on the screen indicated the temperature was below freezing.
Tessa poured champagne for everyone. "We must have a toast to the re-integration of the Hellfire Club."
"Capital," Shaw agreed.
"Oh, absolutely," Blackheart agreed, accepting the glass but not looking away.
The speakers blared the countdown into the room. "Ten...nine...eight...seven..." Clark looked positively pallid. "Six...five...four...three...two..."
"Here's to the new Hellfire Club!" Shaw raised his glass, and the rest of the room followed suit.
"SHHH!" hissed Blackheart, pointing at the TV.
"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Dick Clark's face was filled with dread, even as he kept up his trademarked cheery banter. "And we have arrived at the year two--" His words ended in a high pitched scream as the picture fuzzed over. Bright flame filled the air around him, drawing a bloody, seething pentagram over his head. It descended to his feet, and when it touched the ground beneath him, a chasm yawned open.
One black-clawed red talon reached up, closed its fingers around the screaming Clark, and dragged him howling to the bowels of hell.
Blackheart clinked his glass with Emma's. "Touchdown." He smiled contentedly at the blazing pentagram before ABC had the presence of mind to yank the signal.
"To the Hellfire Club," Emma repeated. "And to ... an auspicious beginning."
-- end