Final Countdown *HF* by the Blue King, Steven Booth
Chapter One
The night was cold; icy sheets of frost consumed the ground, making it chilling and lifeless. But, within the private chamber of the Red Bishop, the air was warm and pleasant. A roaring log fire provided adequate heat; the hungry flames licking and devouring the logs. And the old mutant sat in a very expensive leather chair, red in colour. What other colour would it be? The fire cast eerie shadows, twisting shapes of darkness. Its unorderly layout resembled that of the troubled telepath’s mind. So much had changed since he was accepted into the IHFC. Many things had gone on since he was the ambitious Red Knight. Things he loved, that were indeed better for the Club, yet there were also things that he hated. Things that ate away at him, like acid corroding metal. Things that would wake him up in the night in a chilling death sweat. These events racked around in his head. Taking a quick sip of his whiskey, the Red Bishop began probing through the mansion. Using his birthright abilities, he scanned the people in the mansion. But the man was hurtled from his concentration by the high-pitched ringing of the telephone. Rather annoyed at being disturbed so late in the evening he violently grasped the receiver. “Yes?” he roared, his annoyance clearly evident in his voice. “It is I, my grace, Draco. I have news that could interest you.” Steven gritted his teeth. Draco was a good enough boy, loyal to his Headmaster and his Court, but in some ways he was a childish annoyance. His sister, however, was more mature, more sensible. “I hope this is important, my boy, or I shall have you on sentry duty for a month!” Draco gasped at the fact of being secluded from all his peers for a month. “I do apologise for my calling so late, my grace, but I have news of a new recruit. I am e-mailing the details over.” Steven dismissed the Hellion and placed the receiver back on its position. Levitating just above the ground, he swiftly glided through the room, his gracefulness unmatched. Using his telepathic abilities he started his computer terminal and began to unlock his e-mail. Printing off Draco’s document he once again drifted back to his chair. Taking his drink in his hand he began to siphon through the papers.
“Well, I am officially exhausted,” Charlotte Sometimes, also known as the Red queen, informed Mystikal, the Grey Pawn. The girl on the other end of Charlotte’s call merely laughed. “Okay milady, I shall let her majesty go to sleep. Do enjoy your royal slumber.” Rolling her eyes, Charlotte dismissed Mystikal’s call and began to dress for bed. Sleepily, she slipped into a wonderful white silk nightshirt Steven had bought her. She didn’t realise, but Steven always seemed to be giving away gifts. Walking quietly to her dresser she began to brush her hair, laughing slightly. Under his gruff, Headmasterish exterior, Steven was a completely different person. How glad she felt when she knew he was coming back to the Court. (For full details of the Red Bishop’s departure read When Titans Fall) Finally, giving into her fatigue, the Red queen drifted off to her luxurious bed and began to slip into a calm, relaxing sleep. Funnily, she wouldn’t keep so calm.
The sign outside read: Inferno. That was one way of depicting the stifling heat that the young dancers created. It was like any regular nightclub; filled with smoke, young people dancing and way too many under age drinkers. Aquapyro stood at the bar, his casual purple shirt perfectly contemplating his sleek black pants. He was eyeing up a very attractive blonde. Stealthily, Soledad Sometimes, also known to her peers as Pantera, sneaked up behind the unsuspecting hellions and flung her angelic arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You now,” she said in a husky voice, “she’s a real bimbo!” With this she pushed Kyle away. “I know,” Kyle said, his toothy grin evident on his face, “but she’s so hot!” Chastity merely sighed and began to pretend to listen to Epyon tell her about his website. To be honest, she didn’t give a toss. But, she was being polite. Her heart skipped a beat with joy when Spark called her over. “Hey Chas, Kyle, Pantera, Thomas let’s get a move on, Steven will have our guts for garters if he catches us gone!” Pantera sighed. But she laughed slightly. The vision of the Red Bishop in garters was an entertaining sight. Outside the club, the cold brisk air stung the eyes of the Hellions and Academy students. Walking in a cluster, they chatted about nonsense. “I wonder where Draco is?” Soledad slurred, “isn’t like the night walker to miss a good party!” “He was going to inspect a new unit he has bought..some laboratory or other. Must not be back yet.” With this the Red rook opened a portal. “We had better be getting back.” With this the young people followed the Rook through the portal. From the shadows a man laughed, his sinister eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Their youthful innocence,” he muttered.
Charlotte jolted upright in her bed, sweat rolling from her. The sheets had stuck to her body. Little did she realise she was screaming. Tears were cascading down her beautiful cheeks. There was a little flash of light and out stepped the Red Bishop, in a very large woollen towelling robe, wiping his eyes, as if trying to disregard his sleepiness. “What is it my dear?” Steven questioned putting his arm around her, comforting her. Charlotte calmed her self and regulated her breathing and began to speak, “There were three children sat in a courtyard,” she said, her voice unsteady, “chanting unfamiliar words. Then, form the ground beneath them came thick black tar devouring them. And then I found myself in the cavern, standing atop a pile of dead bodies, all members of the Clubs!” She could no longer suppress her tears. Hysterically she began to cry and hugged at her friend until she was sound asleep. But Steven was far from settled.
“Within us all is the x-factor,” Steven lectured, his students scribbling down notes. It was decided by the Red and Black Courts that the educational needs of both the Academy and the Hellions would be merged together. Steven began his teachings, but nobody was really in the mood for learning. They were trying to recover from the night. If only they hadn’t gone to Aquapyro’s suite for a party. Epyon was sliding down in his seat, slowly giving way to his tiredness. He was sharply awakened by a bolt of mystic energy, directed from the headmaster. Chastity noticed how he had seemed to master that magic he was given. Not something spectacular but it was getting better. “May I ask,” Steven said, keeping his voice low, but forceful, “why half my Academy looks life death warmed up?” There was a muffle of voices. Steven slammed his book down on his desk. “Right! Epyon, Chastity, Aquapyro, Pantera and Spark! I want a seventy paged essay on the importance of listening to my lectures on my desk in the morning.” Glancing at his watch he decided to dismiss the class and go in search for the Red Queen. She had asked to see him a.s.a.p. It probably wasn’t important, but he must show his manners never the less. Walking down the long gallery of the Red Mansion he noticed how clean and crisp the snow mad the landscape. Like a child with a new toy, Steven began an enchantment and rearranged a pile of snow to make a replica of himself in snow. He was proud of how well he had mastered his elemental spells. Finally he reached the chamber of the Red Queen and began to thump on the heavy mahogany doors. Phasing his body, he stepped through the doors and re-structured again. “Hello, Char, how may your humble servant assist you today?” he said, slightly mocking his status. The red queen rolled her eyes. “It has been decided,” she declared, “by Royal Decrement, that you shall accompany me to the finest clothes shop in all of the land and help me choose an excellent new outfit.” She let out a goofy laugh. Steven gritted his teeth. How he hated these shopping trips, they took forever. But it was only right to obey his queen. “I shall,” he announced, “but must find Chastity and alert her she’ll have to take my classes today.” Charlotte laughed again. “Already sorted,” she muffled and began pushing herself and her bishop out of the door. The red Bishop tried to protest but it was too late, he was dragged off to the Queen’s personal limo. This was going to be a ling day he sighed to himself.
The rather uptown mall was alive with activity, buzzing with busy people, scurrying around from shop to shop, bunches of youthful teenagers yapping like puppies over dresses. Steven stood, his facial expression clearly displaying his impatience and annoyance. He glanced down at his watch. Three hours he’d been with the Red Queen watching her try endless numbers of dresses on. Charlotte didn’t seem the slightest bit annoyed. Infact, she was enjoying buying dress after dress, outfit after outfit. She looked out of the corner of her eye to see what her bishop was doing. His face resembled the dress she had in her hand. Defiantly she quizzed, “Do you like this colour?” Steven nearly erupted. Telepathically he screamed, “Hey!!!! I am missing the chess tournament!” Steven stood, waiting for Charlotte’s response. She merely raised her eyebrow and continued to view the extravagant gowns. All were perfect; she couldn’t decide which ones she’d buy. Steven Booth then noticed a stunning woman enter the shop; her beauty rivaling the queen’s own. Straightening his blue silken tie he glided over. Charlotte gave a laugh and turned back to her dresses. The Red Bishop began chatting to the woman, showering her with compliments. Suddenly, as if in a hypnotic trance, the woman slapped the RKB across the face and walked out of the shop. Psionically, he made himself invisible and teleported besides Charlotte, who was restraining a laugh. “I see you mastered the art of telepathic possession,” he said. Then he gave a short laugh. “I am impressed Charlotte, your telepathy is developing nicely.” The Red Queen giggled at the compliment. “Anyway, bubba, I have finished with my shopping spree, we can go!” Steven laughed very openly and his smile dominated his face. They paid for the boutiques and headed for the car.
Chastity stood at the front of the class, lecturing from a book the RKB had left her. It was about pryokinethesis and telekinethesis. Usually, the Red hellions and Academy students learned about useless information like school children. But this was different. Everyone was interested in learning about mutancy. Her voice was clear and divisive, very charismatic. This only attracted more attention to the subject. Finally a predominant bell began to ring signalling the end of the day’s lessons. Chastity, along with the assemblage, were relieved to bask in the cool fresh air after listening to a lecture on pryokinethesis. After the last students had left Chastity gathered up her papers and began to walk down the halls of the designated academic building towards the Inner Circle’s offices. Using her newly developed phasing abilities she materialised through all the doors effortlessly. She liked phasing. Eventually she walked past her office and phased through the door. Turning on the lights, she walked over to her desk and pulled some files out of the cabinet. Sitting in a lush red velvet chair, she began to read them. Her plan was beginning to flourish. Suddenly there was a flash from her personal intercom. Slightly annoyed at being aroused from her reading she answered with a rough, “Yes?” The voice on the other side of the intercom was a familiar one. “Chastity? Steven here, with the Queen. We are coming back from the mall, be there in about an hour. When I return I’d like to see those reports you set whilst I was absent and your training routines. Bye.” With that he terminated the call. The Red Rook gave a loud sigh. Unfortunately she still had one obstacle to tackle. Better to just cope with it until necessary she thought to herself. Levitating to the filing cabinet she took out several reports and computerised documents and teleported them onto the Red Bishop’s desk. Then she grabbed a large green file with the words: PREP SCHOOL on the front in bold red letters. Walking carelessly she glided upto the Red King’s office. His secretary was filing her nails, half reading an article from a magazine. “You,” Chastity said pompously, “give thee files to the Red king. And they are for his eyes only, understand?” She nodded. With that, the red rook headed off down the hall and decided she’d make a telephone call.
“Something’s brewing over in the Black Court,” Draco said to his friends Epyon and Aquapyro. Spark had been put in detention along with Salvatore for failure to complete a paper Chastity had set. Ever since Steven had first lost control of his powers, Chastity was beginning to take a more active role in the running of things. “What makes you think that?” Epyon questioned, reading his Gundam Wing comic. “Apparently the Black king is…well….ill or something.” Draco continued. And he wished he hadn’t. He could feel his sister’s eyes burning into the back of his head. “Dear brother,” se hissed, “you should get the facts correct instead of acting like a tosser and giving away the plot.” With this she teleported away. Draco slumped down in his chair. “She has seriously changed,” Kyle, declared, “perhaps we should speak to Steven about it.” Epyon fired a sharp look at his friend from the old Beverley Hills Club. Kyle was always the foolish Black Rook whom no one took serious. Little had changed. “We should not,” Thomas churned, tossing the comic aside, “Steven might kill us.” Kyle nodded, seeing the logic in Epyon’s speech. Why would Steven promote her to Deputy Headmistress if he didn’t trust her? But, perhaps his trust had been misplaced.
The Grey pawn was enjoying herself, too much to care about what danger she was in. Running an alpha class battle simulation was excellent training. Summoning her powerful telekinethesis she bolted a beam through a sentinel’s head. This brought it tumbling to the floor. Borrowing Daemon’s speed and strength, she hurtled herself into a mass of robotic enemies. This is the life she thought.
“This fudge is delicious,” Steven announced, chewing the rich confectionary. The limo was packed with several bags filled with luxury items. Charlotte found it amusing that Steven himself had acquired several bags loaded with items. Charlotte grabbed it off him and took a vicious bite from it, leaving only a short amount left. She imitated a common thug by chewing grotesquely. Finally she giggled, “Yes it is quite good.” Steven rolled his eyes. She was definitely insane. Too much time spent with that Grey Pawn, he thought to himself. “You know, Steven, I missed you whilst you were sunning yourself in Jamaica,” she declared. This made the Red Bishop blush slightly. “Well, I missed the court very much indeed but I had a load of time to learn about this magic. I have done quite well. No where near Gomurr or Rune or even Chastity, but I have mastered the elements and mystic bolts. Still need to cast spells to do what I want.” Charlotte thought to herself. It was good to have Steven’s mind occupied with something else. Perhaps he’d be more laid back. Suddenly the car toppled off the road and rolled over several times. Summoning a telekinetic shield, Steven did a psi scan and gained no knowledge. Then there was a sharp pain in his mind and his shield fell. Before he tumbled into unconsciousness he realised they had been hit. Then his world went black. Charlotte tried to keep rigid in her seat, but the force of the blast was hurling the car around like two bugs inside a can. Finally she struck her head against the roof and joined her Bishop in his world.
Chapter Two
SuperGrover!!! walked up the stairs to his personal jet. He had had a most frightful day. Firstly he had to deal with a rather uptight Diablo who refused to be assigned a mission then he had had a call from the bank that deals with the White Hellfire Club’s finances informing him that his account had been totally wiped out. But the worst thing of all was he had to cancel all his appointments and leave for Chicago to sort everything out. The John F. Kennedy Airport was extremely lively but the White King was too fatigued to even care. Taking his seat in his exclusive section of the jet, he rested his eyes and breathed out a deep sigh. Around him the engine was roaring to life and before he knew it the jet was airborne. The white clouds were like cotton wool, so soothing to watch. They almost hypnotised him to sleep.
“Right team, we are running a beta class team simulation,” Rogue’s weary voice began over the microphone, “the object of this battle is physical attacks, rather than using your abilities.” There were a few mumbles from the Black Court members but they soon died down. It was good to see the Inner and Outer Circle assembled together. Chastity had even teleported over the Dragonfire Team to practise. The Black Queen punched in a set of commands the room whizzed into motion. But Rogue merely rubbed her eyes. It wasn’t just her insomnia that was making her so tired; it was also her concern for the well being of Darkwolf. But then she remembered she’d have to look after the Club instead of being sat around concerning herself. “Heads up Storm!” HavocOne, the Black Bishop screamed signalling the Black Sentry of the immediate danger she was in. Storm! glided out of the way of the flying projectile, only to be stuck in the side of the head by a robotic drone. DarkFallenAngel ascended upon the mechanical structure, tearing through it like adumantium through tin. Then she back flipped over to another two drones and using a roundhouse kick tumbled them to the ground. Monet, the newly appointed Mage, was enjoying taking down these robots. Reminded her of olden times. But those were nothing more than memories. Caught off guard, she was struck in the stomach by another drone. The blow took her by shock and made her double over. But all in all the team effort was excellent, finishing the exercise in less than three minutes. “Excellent,” Rogue commented, throwing off her cloak, “now comes the fun part: time to test our powers.” With this the Black Queen flew into the Danger Room. “Computer run file KG6.” There was a humming of analysis by the computer then the walls all became faded until they represented those of a foreign landscape. The terrain was unstable and rocky. Then, from the sky, came simulations of some kind of guards mounted on aero-bikes. Immediately, the Black Court jolted into motion, using their uncanny abilities to decimate the threats they met. Together they could do things no other people could do. But how would they function on their own? “Fools,” a voice hissed, shutting the computer link on his wrist, “little do they know that this day may be their last!” And with this the man vanished into the night.
Steven let out a groan. He could feel two of is ribs broken. He hurt in about a dozen places. But he was alive. The Red Bishop tried to roll out of the wreckage and then realised he was stuck. As he moved a steel rod plummeted deeper and deeper into his left leg. He glanced to the side and saw his Queen. But she was no longer her usual energetic self. Her eyes were shut and her body looked mangled. If not for her External abilities she would have most certainly died. From the amount of blood he’d lost so would he. Steven tried to focus his telekinethesis and bend the bar but the pain in his head was too intense. That’s when Steven remembered they had been travelling back to the Red Court’s Mansion and were struck by….he didn’t know what. Suddenly he heard the groans of a woman, clearly in distinctive pain. Turning his head he looked at Charlotte. She opened her eyes. “I…am…g..ggg..onna..die,” she cried. With this the Red queen placed her head down onto the jagged metal frame. Scanning her mind he knew she was dead. Tears filled the man’s eyes until they began to ricochet down his old tired cheekbones. Then there was a huge flash of white, renewing, warm light. It was so bright, so consuming. Then Charlotte stood up, her face no longer a bloody mess but beautifully constructed. “I am glad I am an External or that would have killed,” she joked. But she quickly ceased her joking. “Are you okay?” she mouthed to Steven cautiously. Summoning all his available energy, Steven phased thought he wreckage and materialised back into his self. Then with an almost inaudible groan he collapsed into Charlotte’s arms. Using the special link Steven had put into her mind she felt his brain still functioning. His heart was beating. All he needed was to regenerate. Then she realised they didn’t actually know where they were. Trying to summon her telepathy to help her, she suddenly was met by a powerful stinging in her mind. Then came an equally powerful blast of plasma energy. Charlotte was tumbled to the ground. In her mind she felt so angry that someone had not only injured her best friend, attacked them whilst they were minding their own business but someone was now trying to kill her. That’s when it all began to get red. Suddenly her carefully manicured fingernails began to morph into long blades, her wonderful silky brown hair ran blood red. The pupils of her eyes matched her hair and two extended fangs emerged from her mouth, covering it. Charlotte had affectionately called this mutation her ‘rage’. The Red Queen flew into the air. She was met by six rather heavily armoured men, all wielding plasma weapons. Charlotte also sensed they were all fitted with psi dampeners of considerable strength. “Step down or be destroyed,” one man declared, signalling for his colleagues to raise their weapons. “Okay then,” Charlotte giggled. She began to descend from the air to the ground. Then, with speed unmatched by any human, she lunged into the first, and obviously the leader, of the men, gutting him thought he abdomen with her razor sharp claws. She felt two bolts of plasma energy attacking her. With a subtle roundhouse kick she kicked the legs from under the two attacking men. Back flipping backwards, she jumped into the air and somersaulted back to the ground crushing the chests of the two fallen men. Then she felt a powerful slap across the back of her head. She looked, from the ground, up at a man carrying a powerful energy whip. Before she could attack them, the other two soldiers were upon her, firing their weapons at her. Charlotte was in excruciating pain. She fought to keep conscious but she could feel herself slip away into that black void. Then the three soldiers were hurtled through he air by some invisible hand. “Need a hand?” Steven said, as he levitated towards his Queen. Charlotte, despite all the pain she was in, gave out a little chuckle. Steven turned his gaze away from Charlotte and looked at the three soldiers. “Next time you attack me, make sure you do it well enough. We Externals have this nasty habit of never dying.” Steven gave a little amused laugh. But he knew he was in deadly trouble. He could feel the sugar that fuelled his body deteriorating and the lack of blood wasn’t helping. It would only take several attacks to terminate this fight. He tried to reach out to the triad with his mind but was met with interference. Psi dampeners he muttered to himself. So, gathering all the energy he could spare, Steven began to charge his mind with more and more telepathy. Seeing his telepathy alone not enough to over ride these incredibly powerful dampeners he reached out along the Astral Plane and began tapping into he Grey Pawn’s mind, sucking away her telepathy. He informed her of the situation so she didn’t mind. After all Mystikal and Charlotte were excellent friends. Eventually he gathered the two incredibly powerful forces together and unleashed them causing the instant destruction of the three soldiers and most of the surrounding landscape. With that he felt his body weakening and finally he slipped into a diabetic coma. But, ignorant to himself, his stomach acids were beginning to leak.
The super jet hurled through he sky like a bull in a china shop. There was no time for caution. It was exactly three minutes since the Red Court had received an emergency transmission from the Grey King, Daemon, informing them of their Bishop’s and Queen’s situation. And everyone was concerned. Epyon charged through he sky, his driving atrociously carefree. Eventually he choked, “I see them.” Chastity, Spark, Aquapyro and Draco all hurried to the window of the jet. Each could see the tangled wreckage of what looked like a compounded car. Then they saw the two bodies lying still by the side of the road. Deadly still. Without warning the Hellions, the Red rook teleported them to the ground along with essential medical equipment. “What the hell happened here?” Epyon muttered, checking the vitals of his fallen team members. Chastity sighed and teleported them all aboard the jet. As she jolted the mighty jet into motion, Epyon secured the two Inner Circle members to life supports. The rest of the assemblage remained to examine the atrocity of a wreck. “God speed us,” Epyon cried, “Steven’s failing, and Charlotte’s not much further behind him.” Chastity concentrated on her driving. But Epyon thought he could see a hint of delight in the Red Rook’s face.
Ryan and Wolfox, accompanied by Pantera were waiting in the infirmary when alas the plan touched down. Ryan was distraught, his face white with shock. From Chastity’s report Steven and Charlotte weren’t gaining any more health. Chastity teleported the quartet from the jet into the infirmary, where a very large group of doctors were ready to treat the two of the most important figures in the Club. Wires and needles were inserted into he motionless bodies. But Ryan was strangely quiet. His gaze was focused upon the two members of his Court lying deathly still in the white, sterile laboratory. But abruptly the Red King was tossed across the room. Suddenly the red Bishop and Queen both shot out of the beds, psionic energy flowing through them. Chastity teleported the doctors out of harms way. Then Steven seemed to drop Charlotte to the ground where she stood up, rubbing her neck. The Inner Circle and Hellions looked dumbfound. “Oh,” Steven groaned, “we are back!” Ryan, whose face was as red as his robe, blasted from the floor. “What on Earth is going on?” he demanded, shouting slightly. Steven and Charlotte exchanged glances. “Well, Ryan,” the Red Bishop began, still levitated in mid-air, “when I attacked the soldiers who attacked us, I knew Charlotte would be out of it so I had to resort to other means of attack. I was going to kinetically-telepathically fry their minds but the damn fools had psi-dampeners on. So I borrowed Mystikal’s powers and reinforced my own which was sufficient enough to over-ridded the dampeners, killing them all instantly. But to escape the force of my own telepathic wave, I ascended the Queen and myself’s minds to the Astral Plane. But I was weak from the blast so couldn’t bring us back until I felt you cutting through the RED Ryan and we siphoned our minds back into our bodies though you.” He paused to take a breath and the assembled members looked bamboozled. “Well the important thing is you are safe,” Wolfox declared, breaking the uneasy silence. Ryan stood quietly for a minute. Then, in a commanding, emotionless voice he dismissed all the members of the Court, except for the Inner Circle. “Something has clearly gone on here,” Ryan edged, “we meet in my suite in three hours, ten thirty sharp!” With this the Red king walked out of the room. Wolfox decided to go and watch the Star Trek marathon, as did Charlotte. “Chastity, we’ll run through those reports now,” Steven declared, beckoning the Red Rook to the doorway. Chastity bit her lower lip but began to smile. A very forced smile. “It would be my pleasure,” she said, following the Headmaster out of the room. Steven walked along cheerily, despite his and Charlotte’s predicament. Ryan was clearly annoyed about something. And Ryan was not to be underestimated. This made Steven shudder.
“How well was the pryokinethesis and telekinethesis evaluation accepted?” Steven said, as he sat behind his large, oak desk, reading various pieces of paper Chastity had handed him. She cleared eh throat, “It was met with much interest, learning about mutation and various abilities seem to interest the students.” The Headmaster nodded in agreement. Then he turned to the Red Rook. “I will be taking all classes for the next few weeks, Chastity, so why don’t you take a break? I am going to teach them all about their powers and how to harness them and use them in a needy situation.” Chastity agreed and teleported out of the room. As she strolled down the halls to her personal suite she skipped happily, a wide toothy grin spread across her face.
The night was unusually cold, but the Red king’s suite was warm and comfortable. Chastity sat near the open fire, dressed in a casual sweater and pants, red of course. Wolfox had a Dragonball Z tee shirt on, accompanied by some Powerpuff Girl’s shorts. As always, Steven wore an expensive Italian made suit, this time green. Chastity noticed how weird he looked in it. Charlotte, dressed in a casual evening gown, joked of how he looked like a lemon. All of the Inner Circle was gathered, except for the holder of the meetings-Ryan. Whilst the four Inner Circle members chatted about useless junk, Ryan slipped silently in, his attire a wonderful white silken suit. “Greetings Milord,” Chastity addressed him, standing too greet the Red King. Her motion was followed my all. Ryan didn’t respond. Instead he told them all to sit. This is gonna be a long night Charlotte said to herself.
“Hello, master?” a very nervous, uneasy voice said, grasping the telephone receiver hard. The man on the other side of the line didn’t reply. But somehow he knew he was there. “The drones have been terminated,” the uneasy, unstable voice declared. There was a long pause “My orders were simple,” the sinister voice declared, “Infact I made them that way, especially for you. I wanted you to bring me the Red Queen and Red Bishop.” His voice was twisted and corrupt, showing anger. “They..we underestimated them,” the nervous man declared. “You dare question my plan?” the voice threatened. With that the anxious man suddenly rose from his chair, tumbling the receiver to the floor. His gaze was blank, his actions plainly controlled. Seizing the letter opener off his desk he rose the sharp, glistening blade to his throat and inserted it deep into his neck, slicing the skin like tender meat, blood pouring all over the floor. The man fell to the floor, blood still gushing from the incision. “It seems you have won this round, Steven, but soon you will get what is coming to you,” the barren voice declared. He gave a short laugh and faced the indow, peering at the jet hovering above. “Round two,” he mused, choking on his laughter.
“Thirty minutes until landing, milord,” the pilot informed the sleepy White King. SuperGrover!!! nodded and gave a little stretch. He didn’t realise how boring all those meetings were today. Enough to make a strong heart and stomach ail. Grabbing the crystal vessel, he poured some exquisite liqueur into a crystal glass and began to sip it. Being a King was good. He suddenly realised how the clouds seemed to dwindle until they were nowhere in sight. The speed of the aircraft’s descent sped up until the White King seized the seat for safety. Summoning his aura, SuperGrover!!! swayed into the cockpit. And to his surprise lying frozen on the ground was his pilot. Clearly the man was dead. What the Hell is going on? The White King cursed. Without any warning, the roof of the hanger bay was torn off and in stepped four brutes, all heavily armoured with alienated technology. “Step aside, White king, and be captured, or be terminated,” a beefy voice commanded raising their metallic rods to the King, who was struggling to remain vertical. “Who dares attack me?” SuperGrover!!! Commanded, morphing his gauntlets into sharp blades. By now the days frustration had gotten to SuperGrover!!!. Before the quartet could begin to attack the White King, he sprung into a crazed anger, slicing the first man across the chest. A red, gushing liquid came dribbling out of his chest. Grover gave a little laugh. The two men behind him seized his arms. These guys were strong enough to withhold the White King. So SuperGrover!!! Extended his aura. This loosened the grip the thugs had around his arm. For a slight moment the White King felt like he’d won. That was until the only un occupied man attacked him. He protracted his silver, metallic stick and an alien beam of green energy emitted from the end, seizing SuperGrover!!!’s body, jolting it in convulsions. He could feel the sticky green energy compressing his aura, suffocating him, squeezing the oxygen out of him. Carrying their fallen friend, the five attackers fled into the cool evening air, leaving the White King motionless on the floor.
“Shut up!” Acydic screamed, accidentally hurling a ball of acid at the wall, eating threw it. The White Assassin, Tobias, stepped back from the aerated Field Commander of the Hellions. She admired how sweet he looked when he was angry. “What are you meagre beings arguing about now?” Diablo’s screeching voice demanded. The two Outer Circle members stepped back. They knew better than to annoy the God of Hell. “Well, sir….Toby..,” Acydic stuttered. The White Pawn groaned. “You humans..ooo…your arrogance annoys me!” cried Diablo. Toby was angry by now. She hated being treated like second hand toilet tissue. “Hey smokie,” she shouted, “I asked pezzy here if he wanted to run a simulation with me. And since it isn’t any of your business why don’t you f,” she stopped. Diablo’s eyes were narrowed, his look was enough to burn a hole through you. “My dear, you know not what your destiny is….you don’t have a clue what happened in that hospital do you? Well it goes like this..,” Diablo hissed but was tumbled to the ground my the White Warlord, who’s face looked grave. “What the Hell is going on?” Cyclops demanded as he walked into the room. The four members of the IHFC White Court scrambled to their feet. “If it concerns you Casey..” Diablo began but was halted by the Bishop’s commanding start. “Listen here, Diablo, you have annoyed more than enough people here today, so just run along with the rest of you to the War Room. We are getting an emergency transmission from SG!!!.” The mention of the White King aroused interests
“Glad you could make it,” Ozymandias said in a lazy voice, his gaze focused somewhere else. Cyclops was out of breath as he rushed down the corridors. “Brief me on the situation,” he asked. Nebula spoke, her voice slightly uneasy. If not for her blue complexion, Casey would have expected her to look that colour “We got an emergency signal from SG!!!. He has been attacked, but the nature of the attack is unknown. His transmission was too weak and his invisibility to telepaths expels the Knight to locate him.” Diablo sniffed. “I suppose you’ll want me to help,” he scoffed. Mufasa stood up from the table, slamming his large fists onto the oak table. It rattled with such gigantic force. “Listen here, I am not kidding around. SuperGrover!!! Sounded in trouble. Now find him or I’ll shove my fist so far down your throat you’ll be sh…” the White Rook stopped. For Diablo opened his mind and located the King magically. Then he placed the thought into the Rook’s mind and into Cronos’. “I now of his location,” Mufasa said, grabbing the Warlord, who was loaded with hi-tech machinery, “let’s port1” With this the two men materialised and vanished, followed by the God of Hell.
The hunt was on. And he liked it this way. He began to break out in a cool, soothing sweat. As he darted through the forests, he ruffled leafs and toppled trees, his mighty wings giving him great potential. In the entire world, there wasn’t anything as intriguing as hunting the hunted. But tonight his fun had been spoiled. For Draco, Red Hellion and Field Lieutenant of Dragonfire Team, had foolishly invited the Red Knight, Wolfox stRanger along with him on this run. Well, the Knight had invited himself along. There was something about him that scared Draco. Something that really made him different. All the other Inner Circle members were popular, friendly (well excluding Monday morning training with the Red Bishop and Sunday morning training with the Red Rook!) and basically well loved by the general assemblage. But Wolfox was different. From the chronicled reports by the Red Bishop, he had basically ‘turned up’ when Ian had been sacked as bishop and Steven was promoted. Something to do with the Paris Hellfire Club. No one, other than the Red King, knew much about the Paris Club. Some failing organisation he muttered to himself. Suddenly two fiery columns of force stopped the young Hellion in his tracks. “I must return to the mansion, Hellion, but may return. Enjoy your hunting.” And with this Wolfox ‘the Rhose’ stRanger darted off into the night. “Weird little dude,” Draco sighed and flew off into he starless night.
The BHC was usually electrified at the early hours of the evening but today there was an uncanny silence and hostility echoing through the mansion. Tension had been at an all time high ever since Rune kicked his heels and decided to leave the Club. And Monet’s recent addition caused more unsettled feelings. Psishot was feeling extremely lonely in his Club. Being a prince was ahrd work. So much so that he bribed the Red Bishop into filling out all his paperwork. Psishot knew his addiction to ice cream would break his exterior. But what troubled the members most as the very heart of the team, the King. Ever since his skirmish in Houston, the Club had been uneasy. Darkwolf’s health was obviously failing but the idiot wouldn’t even let anyone know. Most were shocked when RKB attempted to scan his mind for any reference and was met with a barrier of hostility. Too much had swept over the BHC too fast, like a tide demolishing the carefully constructed structures on the shore. The tension between Jetfire and RKB had hit an ultimate climax when Steven almost fried him kinetic-telepathically.
“You know something,” Greg, the Black knight began, his voice cheery, “I am glad you are back Mo. Life just wasn’t right without you.” The Black Queen also agreed. This made Monet blush. “Well, how could I stay away from my favourite people? Just a shame I had to replace Rune….I feel kinda bad.” HavocOne, who was painting a picture for the new coat of arms of the Club, gave a little muff. “That nutter had what was coming to him..lazy good for nothing.” The members of the BHC who were assembled in the dining room (Rogue, Greg, Nathan Sommers, DFA, Jetfire and Monet) all looked sharply at the Black Bishop. “Well you can’t talk,” Greg beamed. HavocOne merely shook his head, and settled back to his painting. “Anyway, the Carebears are more popular than Barney,” Greg started, making the whole assembly cry with anguish.
Chastity was huddled by the over-elaborate fireplace that dominated the Red King’s suite. Her attire was casual and warm, a thick red sweater over red leather pants. She yawned tiredly. The others would arrive soon. Then in stepped the Red Queen, her face as radiant as ever. She was wearing a long, red, silken evening gown. “Hello there Chastity,” her friendly voice began, “seems we women are the obedient ones!” Chastity didn’t feel at all like smiling or laughing but she forced a smile for her Queen. The duet were joined by the Red Bishop, who teleported into the chamber, knocking several glasses off Ryan’s bar. Chastity sighed and magically put the pieces back together. How Steven envied her control over magic. “What are you wearing?” Charlotte said, her voice friendly but with slight mockery attached, “wearing that? You look like a lime!” Steven looked unhappily at his lime green suit. He thought it was very sharp. It should have been for $10,000. He merely shrugged off Charlotte’s comment and greeted Wolfox as he entered the room. “Well, we are all here, but where’s my other half?” Charlotte questioned, waving her finger in the air. “I am here,” a dark, beckoning voice began from the shadows. As the figure stepped out, the Inner Circle could see it was their faithful King. “Gees, Ryan, wanna give me a heart attack? We 159 years olds do have weak hearts.” Steven complained. Using his power of illusion he took on the form of an ailing man. “See here sonny,” he joked. But was bluntly stopped in his path. “Silence,” Ryan demanded, raising his fist into the air, “the meeting shall begin.” The four Inner Circle members took their extremely expensive looking chairs and listened carefully at the King. “I have called this meeting of the Inner Circle,” he pressed, “in conjunction with today’s activities. As you are aware two people in this room were attacked by unknown forces. The Bishop is unable to telepathically locate them so these people had psi-bafflers. But what was most unpleasing was to baffle a physic’s probe one must download the prints onto the box.” This fact hadn’t occurred to anyone present, except for the King. “You mean…the person who attacked us…know’s us?” Charlotte said, her eyes wide with concern. Ryan looked tenderly at her. “My dear, you shouldn’t worry. The Red Court looks after its Inner Circle. Anyway, I just wanted you all to know you have to keep your guard up…hear me? Meeting adjourned…oh Steven, Chastity, wait for me at the end.” With that Wolfox and Charlotte walked out of the room discussing the Star Trek marathon. Steven knew Charlotte was putting on a brave face. He infact felt like he’d collapse at any moment. “Steven, as you know, Chastity has risen through the ranks of the Red Court like wildfire. And her success in both the Dragonfire Team and the Hellions outstands me. That’s way I have decided to allow Chastity an absence of leave and to take some Hellions and General members of her choice to train at her own Prep School.” Ryan took a breath and looked at Chastity who’s face looked excited. However, the Red Bishop’s didn’t. “Care to run that by me again, Ryan?” he muttered, his teeth gritted. Ryan looked hardly at him. “I didn’t realise you were deaf all of a sudden,” the King blasted. He voice sounded angry. “I am not, but I thought you were saying you are taking the Hellions I train and giving them to Chastity to train.” Ryan gave a little laugh. “Well, at least your hearing isn’t going,” he muttered. Steven’s eyes were beginning to glow red with telekinetic energy. “WHY? Am I not good enough?” Steven spat, accidentally releasing several little particles of energy. Chastity took over from the King. “Hey, Steven, chill for a moment. I am only taking them for a little break and training them. If anything I am giving you a little break. Nothing to be jealous of.” The Red Bishop looked sharply at the Rook. Large circles of energy were surrounding his hands. He had ignorantly begun levitating. “Listen here….you try anything against me..the pair of you, and I’ll destroy you both!” Ryan was about to shoot back a response, but was silenced by the Rook. Steven seemed to jolt back to normality, settling on the floor. He reached into his blazer pocket and took out his extendible cane. Flicking the ivory pole he placed the stick to the ground. “Chastity, Ryan, if you think this is a good idea, then by all means do it. But if anything happens to those hellions, then…I shall not be responsible for my actions.” With this he walked out of the room. Ryan looked almost as mad as his Bishop. But Chastity smiled at him and tugs at his arm seductively. “He took that a little better than expected,” she whispered into the King’s ear, “let him mull it over for a few days.” Ryan settled down and placed himself in a chair quietly, his Rook rushing to attend to her King’s needs. “Did you notice,” Chastity mused, “Steven’s lack of control over his telekinethesis just then? And his inability to drag himself back from the Astral plane?” Ryan looked up at the Rook curiously. “I hope we don’t have another..incident,” Ryan declared and went quite quiet. Chastity gave a little smile.
“What the Hell has happened here?” Mufasa said, shaking Cronos from him. The Warlord conjured up a telekinetic field to balance him. Diablo stood quietly, quite uninterestedly. The three men examined the ruined aircraft. Luckily the flames hadn’t consumed the whole plane. Diablo snapped his fingers, causing the flames to cease. “Our King is over there,” Diablo pointed, making the lifeless body of the White King float. Mufasa dragged the warlord over to the King. “What’s wrong with him?” Mufasa shrieked. Cronos lifted a potable scanner over the King’s body. It made a humming noise and eventually a metallic voice declared, “The White King is suffering of suffocation, some kind of alien technology is compressing his aura, effectively suffocating him.” Mufasa went as white as the King’s garments. “Chill, Simba, I have something that can help,” the Warlord said. He rose a little microphone looking device to the king a there was a flash of light. After that the aura extended again. Slowly SuperGrover!!! began to regain consciousness. “Awww…anyone get the number of that plane?” the King mumbled. Mufasa gave a little sigh of relief. “Well…are we departing? I have better things to do than watch happy family reunions,” Diablo alleged. The King rolled his eyes. “Nice to know you think about me Diablo,” he laughed. With this the God of Hell teleported the quartet back to the mansion.
“Where are you of to?” Rogue asked, hanging on the doorframe to her scribe’s door. Jetfire ignored her and continued browsing through his large wardrobe. “If it had anything to do with you,” he hissed, “I’d tell you. But just so you know I am off into town…this place has an unwanted odour here.” Rogue’s cheeks flared with crimson red. “And what might that odour be?” she said through gritted teeth. Matt smiled. “You know, stagnant King,injustice…whatever you like basically.” The two met eyes, a long staring connection between the two. “You know,” Nathan Sommers commented as he walked pass the door, “you shouldn’t speak to the queen like that.” Then he headed down the hall. Matt started for the door but was halted by a telekinetic force. From nowhere, the Red Bishop teleported into the Scribe’s suite. “Sorry to interrupt, but I must speak to the queen immediately.” Rogue looked bitterly at matt and then addressed the Headmaster. “Yes Steven, how can I help you? Must be important if you have teleported all the way here at this time,” she started, signalling him to the door. He glided out talking to her. But he didn’t realise she was still in the Scribe’s suite. “Listen dumbass, you wanna keep in this Club, you’d better change your freakin’ attitude,” and with this she started after the Headmaster, who still didn’t realise he was talking to himself.
“Well,” Steven said, folding his cane into his pocket. He took a seat at the front of the Black Queen’s desk. Rogue sat behind the large, antique desk in a most momentous chair. “Ryan and twinkle toes Chastity have decided to ‘steal’ my hellions and let the bleedin’ Red rook take them away for private training.” Rogue nodded, but really she didn’t care. Steven had a monotonous feel about him, made it hard to listen to him for too long. “Anyway, I have no say in this, but the two dolts haven’t even thought about the student’s Academy training. So here I am asking you if they can be excused.” Rogue nodded and replied, “Well, it seems you have yourself a little predicament. I wouldn’t want you to get in the Red king’s bad books so I say yes.” Steven gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Rogue noticed the sudden ferocity of the Dragonfire Team Academy Headmaster. “Anything wrong?” she questioned, pouring a jug of lemonade into a glass. “No,” the Red Bishop said, anger in his voice, “everything’s bloody fine. Good evening your majesty.” And with that the headmaster teleported out of the queen’s elaborate suite. “What a nutter,” Rogue laughed to herself.
The room was pitch black, the only light came from a sole candle, fighting to illuminate the room. The red King sat alone in his large leather chair, sipping a delicious whiskey. But he didn’t want to savour its delights. Usually on a Saturday night, he wasn’t sat in his chamber all alone. He would buy himself some ‘entertainment’. But tonight was different. He wanted to be alone. Suddenly a chilling wind rattled around the room, rustling small pieces of vacant paper and drapes of fabric. Suddenly the candle light was extinguished. Ryan didn’t even bat an eyebrow. “What do you want?” the Red King demanded. Suddenly a long, red arm with a claw on the end appeared on Ryan’s shoulder. “Dear me Ryan, whatever makes you think there is something wrong?” a hoarse voice beamed. Ryan but some ferocity into his voice. “Well, whenever the Hellgoat appears, something has to be wrong.” Ryan spat. The demon gave a little laugh. “So what troubles you?” he whispered in the King’s ear. “I am perfect fine, foul demon,” Ryan spat, “do depart.” The Hellgoat gave another little chuckle. “Ooo, and miss out on all the fun? No. You are oblivious to what is about to happen aren’t you, Ryan? You who know everything are stifled with what is happening.” Ryan was clearly annoyed with the demon. “Listen, I don’t care what little games you are playing, but I want you to stop them now!” This time the Hellgoat gave a thunderous roar of laughter. “You really are a fool,” he said, beginning to materialise, “to even threaten me. Your fate will come, my King, your fate will come.” And with this the Hellgoat vanished leaving a dumbfounded Red King. He settled back down to his thoughts, his distress went unheard.
“Master, I have bad news,” a gruff, oxygenated voice declared, “the seven squad’s leader was terminated. The White King wasn’t apprehended.” The phone line flickered slightly. If not for the interference the man would have heard the demonic groan from the other side of the phone. “And WHY not?” the man asked. “My lord, he white King was rescued by his Rook, pawn and we think his Warlord.” This seemed to annoy the man even more. “This insolence will not do! Am I not paying your association enough?” With that the man reached out to the gruff man’s mind and possessed it. “Now we are going to learn a lesson about obedience,” the telephone voice said, making the large, juggernaught walk over to his office wall in a hypnotic trance, “I asked you to destroy the White King. And you didn’t. So here’s a little token of my appreciation.” Making the man grasp one of the two swords mounted on the wall, he made him drive the sharp blade into his left arm, tearing it off completely. Pools of red liquid began to develop on the floor. “Pesky Clubs,” the telephone voice said, “always messing up my plans. But mark my words, my will shall be done!”
Jetfire strolled quietly along the sidewalk, looking at the bars as he passed. None took his fancy. In all of New York, Manhattan was the only place for him. After several drinks in a small wine bar he decided he’d head back to the mansion. “Might as well run a simulation in the training room, practise my skills. Show them tossers how a real fight is fought.” The Black Scribe walked along the quiet evening road. “We have him in focus,” a small, weedy voice began, “I repeat we have the Black Scribe in focus.” There was a little silence. Then a voice over the telephone headset communicator began to talk. “Excellent….follow him. And when he gets into a secluded spot attack Afterburner.” The weedy man chirped, “I thought he was called Jetfire.” There was a little pause. “Charles, my dear, a rose by any name would smell as sweet..or in this case, poison by anyother name would still kill.” The man gave out a little chuckle, a hint of insanity in his tone. “Slicing, dicing, killing Gregor,” the crazy voice began, “dodillydo.” Ignorant to the imminent danger he was in, Jetfire walked down an alleyway. Still uses the same shortcut the man on the telephone said. As Jetfire was about to turn the corner back onto the pavement he felt a cold metallic hand on his shoulder.
Chapter Three
He could feel the sharp, metallic hand sliding into his gut; another barbaric hand brought him to his knees. Three ribs broken, one punctured his lung, but those were just the tip of his injuries. Another sharp kick to the temple sent the Black Scribe hurtling across the dark alley, finally collapsing onto a pile of trashcans. His right leg felt broken, his shoulder fractured. The pain in his head made it hard to keep his eyes open. By now, Jetfire was coughing up blood, struggling to breath. “Crap,” he muttered, “I’m gonna die.” With those final worlds he slipped into blackness, finally grazing the switch on his wristwatch.
“Spark, my love,” Moonstar said, (see Spark’s story for more details of their relationship) “it concerns me, all this fighting you do. And that Headmaster…well, he drives you too hard!” Danni tugged at Spark’s arm. He slowly nestled his head on her lap. “It’s not that bad,” Spark began, “we only encounter the danger you face with X-Force. And Steven is only looking out for me.” Danni gave a little sigh. “You really are dedicated aren’t you?” she said, her voice high and spirited. Spark jolted upright and ran to the window, followed by his girlfriend. “Did you see that?” she said, her heart racing, “something, or someone, just flew right past your window.” Spark nodded in agreement and opened the window, already charging electrical energy in his hands. “By God,” he muttered, “what is he upto now?” Danni peered out only to see a man in a red cloak, floating along the skyline of Manhattan. “That Bishop’s nuttier than a fruit cake,” Spark said, “but we wouldn’t swap him.” Danni give a long sigh. “Spark, come and join me in X-Force. I can’t bear being apart. We only meet when you can get time off the Academy and hellions, which isn’t often, and then we have to come to this apartment incase a villain spots us.” Spark took Danni in his arms. “My dear, I am were I belong. The world needs both of us in different courts.” The two sat, caressed in eacthotehr’s arms for the rest of the night.
“C’mon!” screamed the Red Bishop, darting across the sky with as much speed as possible. It was precisely three minutes ago when he received a distress call from the Black Scribe. No matter how much the two men despised one another, it seemed he was in imminent danger. The call had gone through the whole BHC, alerting medical teams, the Dragonfire Team, everyone fitted with a wristband. Steven only wished he, and his team, weren’t too late. He opened his mind to the surrounding landscape, and was met with a barrier of fear and pain. Sensing Gregor nearby, he swooped down, only to be met with ten psi-warriors (that’s the name he’d given to the attackers). “Oh dear,” the men said in a mocking tone, “did someone order Granddad soup? Well, I’ll have to make it anyway.” Steven stood there, disregarding his cape to show his costume beneath. It was a red body suit with black armour. In his hand was his cane. “Tut tut tut,” the Red Bishop began, “I think I’ll have to teach you some manners.”
Two soldiers headed towards the Red Bishop, and fired two plasma weapons at him. Using his immense telepathic skills, he phased out of existence appearing just above their heads. He did a quick roundhouse kick, blooding their faces before finally back flipping them to the floor. “Well, come on,” Steven said, “I am waiting to be attacked.” Three men dived for the Red Bishop. Confidently he busted out a blast of telekinetic energy that stopped the three soldiers. But two bodyslided behind the old Bishop. Just as he was about to turn around in his defence four blasts of energy fired into his back, sending him hurling across the alley, flying threw the window of an abandoned building. “Silly old man,” a metallic voice declared. Suddenly there was a frantic rattling from the headset. “Apprehend him, you fools! He’s the Red Bishop-get him!” the insane voice screamed. One soldier looked at the other and nodded. They took a step towards the derelict building. Unexpectedly, there came a powerful blast of energy that sent the soldier propelling through the sky. “You..you guys think you’re tough,” spat the Black Scribe, trying to pull himself from the floor, “you don’t even know the meaning of the word.” With that, Jetfire gathered the pollutants from the surrounding air and channelled them into three powerful blasts of energy, levelling the building adjacent to the soldiers. After using all his available energy, Jetfire slipped back into unconsciousness. There was a deathly silence. Subsequently there were three laser blasts, moving the rubble from three of the surviving soldiers with simplicity. “Do these muties ever die?” he quarrelled, “they always have to have their moment of glory. Makes be sick.” The two soldiers remained unvoiced. For their friend didn’t realise the reality of his words, the way he had signed his own death warrant. Abruptly the soldier felt a jagged, assaulting pain in his forehead. Eventually he was no longer in control of his arms, his legs, his body, his mind. “You dare insult me,” the voice on the headset hissed, “then you will face the wrath of this ‘mutie’.” In an almost spellbinding fashion, the man raised his gun to his head. Grazing the trigger helplessly, tears streaking down his cheek, a thin, concentrated discharge of purple energy pierced the gruff exterior skin, burning through his skull, finally exiting at the other side of his head. Lifelessly, his body faded upon the floor, motionlessly. The two soldiers looked agitatedly at each other. “Bring me the Red Bishop, dispose of the worthless rag of a Scribe,” the mechanical voice declared. Obediently the soldiers jolted into action. Swiftly the Red Bishop propelled himself from the window frame. A dribble of crimson liquid trickled down his forehead, his battle-suit torn. “Do you have any idea how much I paid for that suit?” he said, yellow energy surceases from his body. Uncertainly the two soldiers fired a blast of plasma at the Bishop. He deflected it with a telekinetic shield. “There are three things wrong with you trying two kill me: Number One, I am an External, which means I can’t actually die, number two, I have limited use of magic, but I can cast this spell.” Suddenly two serpentine beams of green energy burst from his fingers, circling the soldiers. Then like a protruding drill gnawing away at a wall, the beams drove themselves into the young men’s bodies, making them wither in agony. They dropped to their knees. “You wanna know reason three? This is why..” Focusing his rage into a beam of telepathic energy he released the bombshell, but it was deflected back by the psi armour the men wore. The impact of the blast startled the old man, throwing him from the sky. He could feel his system failing, his head becoming light and feathery. Eventually he slumped off into the land of darkness.
The emergency Draonfire pod of the BHC roared into thunderous motion, it’s occupants gripping their seats. All were responding to the emergency that had unfolded. “Rogue!” cried Nathan Sommers, Black Rook of the BHC, “drive a little faster if you can.” The Black Bishop disapproved his smug remark. HavocOne gave him a deadly serious look. “Listen team,” Rogue said, turning the controls of the small aircraft, “we al are familiar with Jetfire’s habit of being a bit of a loner, so whatever has happened it must be serious. So be ready to face anything.” There was a little quiet period within the pod, all wondering what fate they may meet.
Chastity sat researching through the files atop of her desk. She read with delight about the Red Court’s history. She could barely believe what she was reading. How the Red rook craved to meet some of these people from the past. The Red bishop had shared that exact thought with her when she was one of his faithful Hellions. But things had changed. She was no longer the bubbly young General member of the IHFC, rather a very mature and controlled Rook. She revelled in her position, and for some alien reason seemed to take delight in the way she was manipulating many of the Court members. She could feel the rivalry growing between her and the Bishop. From his file and her short knowing of him, Chastity had gathered Steven was a very edgy, unrestful person, always ready for a good fight. One day he might prove to be an obstacle in her little plans. But she pushed those thoughts from her mind, and concentrated on the files, reading with splendour about the Red Court’s history. Finally she flung the files on her desk and walked out to her receptionist. “Marie, I am retiring for the night,” she said, flinging her wristwatch to her receptionist. “Have this destroyed please, “ Chastity declared, “It has been beeping infernally all night.” “Yes ma’am,” Marie said uncertainly, “good night.” With that the Red rook teleported to her personal suites of rooms.
The pod landed down next to the rubble of three derelict buildings. No one will even recognise this rubble in this part of town Rogue mused to herself. Psi-shot flew from his seat, opening the door. The assembled BHC (Rogue, HavocOne, Nathan Sommers, Monet and Psi-shot) all walked out of the jet, ready for action. The Bishop had already charged his palms with red-hot plasma, Nathan ready at a moments notice to blast anyone to smithereens. Rogue ascended to the skies. “I see them,” she beckoned. The court followed the Queen to the site. They saw Jetfire lying too still on the floor, the Headmaster of the Academy unconscious semi buried under rubble. “What the hell is powerful enough to take THESE two out?” Nathan said, disbelief in his voice. “We,” a mechanical voice said. Quickly the two remaining soldiers flew down from their hiding in the building and attacked the BHC. Monet cartwheeled out of the way of the flying rumble. Rogue awkwardly dodged through the sky of debris, grabbing ahold of Ben and Nathan as she did. Psi-shot let up a powerful telekinetic shield. “You want to do it the hard way,” Nathan said, his hands beginning to glow green with nuclear energy, “well let’s rumble.” He released a powerful blast of energy which, along with a telekinetic sphere from Psi-shot and a plasma blast from HavocOne, took the first soldier out. Psi-shot scanned his mind telepathically. He was still alive, but his health was deteriorating fast. Instinctively he’d run to help him, but his situation within the Club stopped him. Monet and Rogue were trading blows with the other juggernaught, their onslaught of kicks and punches finally over-powering the man. “Just like the old days,” Monet squealed, “remember Rogue?” The Black Queen nodded in unisome with her Mage. Finally Ben Ring a.k.a. HavocOne took the man out with a plasma blast. “Well, that’s the last of him,” chuckled Nathan. Psi-shot telekinetically drew the two fallen members towards him. “Sure is,” Monet said breathlessly, “but I want to know where’s DFA, Greg, Storm! and that mockery of a team?” This questioned seemed to rattle the brains of the BHC for a slight second. “Remember,” a groggily voice began, “they are only prototypes, the Academy one’s must have malfunctioned along with the rest.” Everyone gazed down at the Headmaster who spoke words of discomfort. “Are you okay, Steven?” Nathan asked. With some assistance from Monet and Psi-shot Steven pulled himself from the floor. “Never felt better,” he said woozily, “just a little dazed.” Everyone gave a little laugh. Moments later Rogue walked over to Jetfire. Removing her silk glove, she motioned to place her hand on Jetfire’s forehead. Her hand was grabbed by an invisible voice. “Rogue, leave it to me,” Steven said, focusing his telekinetic grip on the Queen, levitating her back to their position, “I have a more effective way of bringing your Scribe around.” Summoning his newly found mystical abilities the Red Bishop chanted foreign words and sprinkle of yellow energy began swirling around the body of the Scribe. Suddenly his wounds cleared up and he opened his eyes. Steven ceased his enchantment and fell backwards, caught by Monet. “I am sorry,” he apologised, “using my magic is hard work,” he chuckled, hiding his discomfort. He suddenly levitated towards the crowd that had gathered around the Scribe. “God,” Jetfire wheezed, “what the Hell was that?” The assemblages muttered between themselves. Final the Red Bishop spoke up. “I recognised those warriors,” he declared, “earlier today the Red Queen and I were attacked by those same soldiers.” Everyone looked puzzled. “What is going on?” questioned Psi-shot, “is there someone who’s going around destroying all the Courts?” His naïve and immature words could have very well held a prophecy. “I have not the answers,” Steven began, “but the Red King seemed overly concerned by the events. I think we should call an emergency meeting.” There was a little stir of chaos, mainly because the memories the people had of the Red King didn’t make them wan tot go and shake hands with him. “I think it is a good idea,” the Black Queen declared, “we must find out what has happened here.” After this, she walked into the pod followed by the whole team. Steven tapped into a control panel. “I’ll radio the Inner Circle,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’ll tell them of our predicament.” With that the cruiser glided silently through the sky, making its way to Las Vegas.
SuperGrover!!! lay upright in his bed. Although his bodily functions were back to normal, no one was taking any chances. “How are you feeling?” Nebula asked, taking ahold of the King’s hand. The blue man gave a little laugh. “Couldn’t be feeling better.” SuperGrover!!! looked around the room. Nebula was present, sat beside his bed, Gomurr was positioned at his other side with Mufasa, Ozymandias sat on a chair at the edge of the room, and Toby and Acydic were slouching against the wall. The White King didn’t except to see Diablo, his pawn wouldn’t fit the caring role, as wouldn’t his Warlord. But tre, the White Enforcer was absent. No shock there. But where was his bishop, the man he felt like a brother to. The thought slipped through his lips. “Where’s Cyclops?” he stammered. Mufasa gave a little grunt. “Our ever cautious Bishop has gone to examine the wreckage. Took along tre and Cronos as back up. Why do you ask?” SuperGrover turned over to his Rook. “No reason just thought he’d abandoned me.” A sudden eerie chill of wind made its way across the ward, tingling the spines of all present.
“Anyone mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Charlotte, the Red Queen muttered, her voice groggy with sleep. She tightened the belt around her red silken dressing gown. Wolfox sat; yawning by the fire, with Chastity perched in a large armchair besides the roaring flames. Ryan walked down a large suite of stairs into the Inner Circle’s lavish assembly hall. It was used for unofficial meetings mainly. “I am glad you are all here,” he muffled, “except for one.” Charlotte suddenly noticed the absence of the Bishop. Her stomach suddenly churned. What had he gotten himself into? “As you can all see,” Ryan began in a factual voice, “our Bishop isn’t present. Moments ago, we received an emergency call from him along with the Black hellfire Court. Earlier this evening, the Black Scribe, Jetfire was attacked by the same warriors that confronted Charlotte and Steven earlier this evening. We are holding a little conference to see what the hell is going on. Dress appropriately and Wolfox, ready the Informant room and Cerebro.” The Inner Circle hurried along, as they were ordered. “Chastity, a word please?” Ryan asked. The Red Rook hurried to her King obediently. “Assemble the chosen members immediately and go as soon as possible. Best to bet them out of the way so Steven has less to worry about.” Chastity looked puzzled at her King. “Do you not need me for the meeting.” Ryan just gave her the look. The one that says, “Question me again and I’ll rip off your arms and legs.” She scurried along the lush halls of the mansion and finally swiped her card through the door to the Hellion Compound. Although she wasn’t a Hellion, Dark Phoenix II was residing in the girl’s quarter of the Compound. She’d been ordered to come because Chastity wasn’t sure when she’d need her. “Dark Phoenix II, Spark, Aquapyro and Draco,” she began over the intercom, “be assembled in the hangar bay in twenty minutes with a weeks worth of clothing, training gear and any other essentials.”
Rogue and the rest of the Black Hellfire Club present, looked at the Red Mansion. It was truly splendorous, and the inside was even more breathe taking. Ancient tapestries and embroideries decorated the extravagant walls. The halls and rooms were ripping with crystals, gold, silver, diamond and rubies. There were unlimitless amounts of masterpieces and priceless art. They were led along a lush gallery towards the Informant room. The interior was splendid in a different way; the sophistication of this laboratory meant it could only belong to a Hellfire Club. In the corner, around a large, metallic table sat the Red King, dressed in a fine tailored red suit, the Queen, dressed in a perfect evening gown and the Knight, sat in a expensive suit. “Good evening,” Ryan said, taking Rogue’s hand, “thank you for coming.” Rogue merely brushed his hand away and sat at the table, the rest of the Club following. Steven took his place in his designated chair. “Cram the small talk, Ryan, we have business to attend to.” Ryan looked surprised at the Black Queen. He thought she was a spineless woman, who jumped at Darkwolf’s command. He had under-estimated her. “I like a woman who can get to business,” Ryan said seductively. Rogue shunted off his comment. “Where’s the big man himself?” queried Ryan, knowing his question set off sparks. Rogue flew from the table, making Monet, Nathan and Ben, along with a telekinetic beam from Steven, positions her in her chair. Steven opened a mind link to Ryan. “You bloody know where he is, why don’t you keep it zipped?” Ryan looked offended at his bishop. “Just remember who your taking to,” Ryan pressed. “Oh, I remember, he’s somewhat abandoned his team. How unfortunate, hey Gregor?” Jetfire turned a rather crimson colour. “I am called Jetfire now,” he said through gritted teeth. Ryan gave a little ostentatious laugh. “Jetfire,” he emphasised, “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Jetfire seemed to remember that saying, but from where? Charlotte stood up, trying to break the tension. “So what do we know about these attacks?” she said asking a question, but wanting herself to reply. “The opponents have access to our physic brainwaves, hence the scrambling devices working on myself and the RKB.” Rogue looked peculiarly at her. “Right,” she said to her Red House counterpart, “Let’s start from the beginning.” Wolfox nodded “Right,” Charlotte said, clearly taking charge of this meeting, “earlier today..”
Daemon stared happily at his date for the evening. The smell of exquisite taste tantalised his taste buds, yet the most stunning thing it that room was Blackfire, dressed in a dazzling evening gown, made of the finest blue silk with golden threads. Fit for a goddess? “Daemon,” she said seductively, “why don’t we ditch these guys, and retire to your place?” The Grey King flashed his date a warm smile. “I’ll just inform Khalid.” Daemon stood up, his impeccable grey suit clinging to his well-toned muscles, spell-binding all the females I the place. Sharon gave a little satisfied laugh, lavishly drinking her wine, flashing the new ring Daemon had bought her to nearby couples. The Grey king caught sight of Khalid, who was listening with extreme bored ness to his ‘blind-date’. Blackfire had been certain a woman of Marie’s standards would impress the White Rook, but she was clearly incorrect. Daemon spoke softly to Mufasa who merely struggled. After slapping a few (well a lot) of dollars on the table to pay for the meal, he dismissed his lady friend and began to trek through the busy restaurant, his stature clearly standing distinctively from the rest. “I’ll call Mystikal, get her to send me a cab,” joked Daemon as he and Sharon walked slowly through the restaurant. “Yeah, but the price would be phenomenal,” the former White Queen played along, “from Rome? Ouch, that’s gotta sting!” The two met eyes, and passionately embraced one another. This night would be one to remember…but for all the proper and compelling reasons?
Ozymandias sat on a white leather buffet quietly in the corner of his study and concentrated. He could feel his mind beginning to flow into the mass of thoughts on the Astral Plane, allowing his mind to become omnipathic. The thoughts of everyone on the planet suddenly raced through his mind. He felt a tingling in his temple and eventually he was consumed by a glowing white light. But, immediately he knew it wasn’t a telepathic wave or backlash. He forged his link closed. Abruptly he saw a very expensive New York restaurant. He saw the Grey King and his date, Blackfire, sitting and chatting over the dinner table. The vision shift. He felt Mufasa’s discomfort at his date. Eventually the vision snapped to the scene on the roof, where the white Rook and Bishop were engaging in a conversation. Suddenly he could feel the ground shaking and then he sensed immense pain. With that he was released from the light and jolted across the room like a hurtling projectile.
Mufasa made his way to the rooftop of the restaurant, and inhaled the air. It smelled so sweet, so fresh. It mad his veins run with the essence of wildlife. Tonight, he’d do what he always liked, run though the night, effortlessly and easily. But the thoughts of the White King troubled him slightly. “Khalid,” a voice beckoned from the dark shadows. Upon closer inspection, the White Rook discovered his Bishop. “Cyclops,” he began, worry strained in his voice, “how’s SG!!!?” The Bishop gave a little smile. “Much better, I just thought I’d tell you, surveillance told us the Black Scribe, Jetfire, was attacked by some bad-ass thugs. That weird dude, RKB is it? He helped him.” Khalid gave a snort. “What the hell has that got to do with me?” he began, “remember, we are in the WHITE Court.” Cyclops shrugged off the remarks of the somewhat insultive Rook. “I inspected the site of the wreckage,” Cyclops said, “and found a disregarded psi-dampener.” Mufasa’s interest increased. “I analysed the psi-blocks and found something rather interesting,” Casey said. There was a short silence. “The following people appeared as being blocked by this device: Red Bishop, Mystikal, Marvel Girl, Ozymandias, Maul and Psi-shot.” “I think something’s going on. Why would SG!!!, Jetfire and RKB be attacked on the same day, and all the Court members who are telepathic be stored on a psi-dampeners?” Mufasa shrugged. He didn’t seem too bothered. “Perhaps someone made a powerful dampener to stop other telepaths from attacking him?” he said with fake interest. He was urging to be gone from this position. “Well…” Cyclops said, but was met with a barrier of silence. The building began to rumble, as did several of the nearby skyscrapers. The Bishop looked at Mufasa, who as taking cover. Then a powerful blast of energy illuminated the New York skyline, the impact levelling the buildings nearby. Mufasa and Cyclops tumbled, blending in with the falling rubble. The roof gave way, sending the duo through to the restaurant, where hysteria had gripped the crowd. People lay motionless on the floor, whilst others were trapped beneath rubble. Slowly, the room became icy cold, the linger of death in the air.
“The explosion has just been set off,” an informative voice began, saluting the man who stood before him. The man gave a twisted, sinister smile. “I can tell,” he snorted in laughter. “This night gets better and better, does it not?” The soldier remained silent. “Why do you not answer me boy?” the same evil voice cracked, “are you afraid of me?” The soldier still gave no reply. “Wise boy,” those eyes rolled upon him, “I like your style.” The chief turned to the window. “Twinkle twinkle little star, crashing, bashing, dashing…burning!” a twisted voice began. The only light that illuminated the large room was courtesy a wrought iron candle stand. The man however cast no shadow. “You guys think your so great,” the man’s voice began, talking to invisible figments of his imagination, “but look how has the other hand!” with that he threw his crystal glass into the face of one of his soldiers. “Tut tut tut,” he insisted, “that’s what happens when people get in my.” A mechanical voice rang the halls with boisterous laughter.
Chapter Four
Dust filled he air, making it almost impervious to breathe. Daemon opened his eyes. They stung as the dust entered his sockets. He couldn’t see his date. Daemon estimated he was under about seventy tonnes of rubble. Even he couldn’t lift that. His arm was dislocated, his leg felt injured. But he didn’t have time to acknowledge his wounds. “Sharon,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and shallow. He listed painstakingly for a response. But he was met with a stifling silence. The Grey King began to charge his hands with energy. If he was going to find his girl, it was now! But suddenly he could feel the temperature amplify dramatically. Rapidly the rocks nearby him started liquefying. Immediately he became aware of what was happening. “Sharon!” he screeched, “stop it! You’ll fry me!” The heat died down. “Daemon,” a groggy voice began, “help me!” Daemon could smell his date’s perfume. She was close. A small blast of photon energy leveled a wall of rock, revealing the battered Blackfire. Her silken blue dress was ripped in several places; blood trickled down her delicate face, cascading off her intricate cheekbones. Daemon didn’t realise how demolished he felt. “What happened?” she asked, grabbing for him. He pulled her carefully near to him. “Some kind of explosion,” he informed, “but don’t worry, we’ll get out.” Sharon laid her head on the King’s chest, and quietly gave a little sob.
“What the f…,” Mufasa said, throwing about a tonne of debris off him. He sniffed the air. Kinetic plasma blasts had just travelled through this area. He remembered the blast. Immediately he sensed for the life forces of his friends. All were alive, but Cyclops’ was weak. He’d have to find him immediately. Khalid Hunter stalked around the rubble, smelling for any signs of his Bishop. He could smell a familiar sent but it surely wasn’t Cyclops. A portal suddenly opened and Diablo, Nebula, Toby and Gomurr stepped through. In Diablo’s arms was a very dizzy Ozymandias. “Thank Heaven’s you’re okay,” Toby said, flinging her arms around the Rook. He was taken back by her affection. “Where’s the bishop..and the Grey King?” Diablo’s impatient voice demanded. Mufasa looked at the White Pawn sharply. “Cyclops, Blackfire and Daemon are all alive..but Cyclops’ seems to be failing.” Mufasa informed them. Ozymandias stood shaking his head. “ Knew this was going to happen,” he said in an insecure voice. All the people present shot suspicious looks at him. “I had a vision,” he declared, “about ten minutes ago.” “Well are we going to find these poor mortals,” the God of hell said, his voice twisted with rage, “I have better things to do than wait around here all day!” With that, he summoned a slight bolt of mystical energy. Casually he flicked his finger sending out a powerful blast of energy, moving the rubble instantly. “Be careful!” screamed Toby; “there’s people in there!” Diablo blew on the girl, sending her to the floor. “I care not of these low life,” he said stubbornly. The WHC quickly went into the wreckage, pulling people free. Diablo merely sat by the side, watching, recording. From above him came a thunderous noise. Upon further inspection he recognised the craft. “It’s about time you imbeciles,” he shouted at the Hellion headmaster, Hawkeye, who was exiting the plane, followed by Acydic, Sunlit, Bluntman and Angelic. “Oh shut your mouth, you under sexed idiot,” Hawkeye shouted, but mused at the same time, “no time for any dumbd…. like you messing the place up!” The Hellions quickly joined in with their compatriots, dragging people from the rubble.
“What the hell are those lot doing there?” screamed a thunderously insane voice, his eyes and facial features twisted in disorientation. A timid man spoke quickly, “It seems the WHC and the hellions have come to assist.” The ranting man spun quickly at the man, digging a dagger into his face, on which he had been dangling from his hand. “Speak only when spoken to,” he hissed. The man held his face, pools of crimson red blood pouring from his wound. “Assemble a heavy crew of warriors and eliminate them all!” he screamed. “Tut tut tut,” he mused, looking at the window, “Diablo WOULD have to turn up. Let’s hope his father isn’t too partial to him.”
“So in conclusion,” Charlotte demanded, “we are facing an enemy that knows us and our powers.” Everyone looked fortified in the Queen’s speech. Ryan stood up and began to congratulate his queen when the mansion was seized by a violent shockwave. The room began shaking, sending small objects hurtling across the room. “What the f,” Wolfox began, before he was hit violently in his cranium with a piece of Renaissance art sculpture. The room abruptly calmed down. “Is everyone okay?” Rogue said, surveying the room. Wolfox suddenly went hurtling across the room. From the spot where he laid surfaced Monet. “That stupid oaf landed on me,” she screamed. Greg, who had come to the mansion by Rogue’s request, said, “Looks like he’s waaayy outta it!” Steven teleported before the Knight. “It seems he ahs sustained quite a rough head wound,” he diagnosed, “take him to the infirmary.” With that the Red Bishop and Black Knight headed out of the unorderly room and walked down the corridors to the infirmary. “What on Earth was that?” Psi-shot asked. Ryan stood up and straightened his clothes. Walking over to the computer he punched in a panel. Moments alter, Epyon appeared. “My young Hellion,” Ryan began, “you look tired. Were you asleep when I called you?” The Hellion merely nodded. “My apologises but can you please locate the origin of that earthquake?” The Hellion obediently went to the computer and started thumbing in commands. “That was no earthquake,” he announced, “ someone has let of a kinetic plasma bomb. It’s a blast of energy that sets off underground and it explodes sending moving plasma through the underground, causing terrible earthquakes. It originated in downtown New York.” Ryan exchanged glances Rogue and Charlotte. “Get me a link tot eh WHC,” Ryan commanded, “and the Hellion Compound for the WHC and GHC stat!” Epyon nodded but gave a puzzled look. “There is no reception of the WHC or GHC. I have located them, observe.” A large screen came down from a panel. Suddenly the assemblage could see the battle that was raging. “Oh God,” Charlotte screamed, “look at all those buildings! There’s in rubble!” Everyone nodded. “And those are the same soldiers who attacked me!” she shrieked. “And me,” Jetfire informed. “Well, we should go and offer assistance,” Rogue commanded, “get your Hellions and my Dragonfire Team together.” Ryan gave an awkward laugh. “Certain members are with the Red Rook training,” he said. Rogue remembered her earlier conversation with RKB. “Oh, well get whoever you can. That place looks crawling with those freaks!” Everyone began hurrying round to prepare.
Toby’s moves were almost like a dance, every kick and punch so well co-ordinated. She’d decided to hit and run; taking out as many people as possible. But these guys were tougher than she thought. A large hand reached for her. Acrobatically, she somersaulted into he sky and landed sharply on the man’s head, breaking his neck. She stood confidently, gloating over the man. Suddenly she felt a hot blast of plasma energy in her back, sending her into the rubble. “Never gloat,” the soldier said in his mechanical voice. He then felt a sudden slicing pain in his back and sharp break in his spine. He fell to the floor, withering in agony. “A lesson one like you should learn,” Gomurr said, then back flipped out of the way of an attacking soldier, karate chopping another into unconsciousness. For a man of 803 years, Gomurr was still the best. After preventing several soldiers from attacking Angelic, he went to venture to the spot of the White assassin. As he neared he saw she wasn’t breathing. He felt for a pulse. It was weak. A blast of mystical energy sent the small man hurtling into a amass array of soldiers. “Meddling old fool,” the God of Hell started. Clicking his fingers, Toby finally rose from the ground, dazed, but alive.
Although the winter skies were rough for flying, the Red Bishop’s Academy jet roared through he skies, Rogue flying it unsteadily. Rogue, Psi-shot, HavocOne, Nathan Sommers, Monet, Charlotte and Greg had assembled aboard the craft, hoping to help their allies. Steven and Epyon had decided to wait with the Red knight in the infirmary and wait for any injuries, whilst Ryan decided not to come. Jetfire had also decided to back out. “We are nearing the …oh My God!” Monet commented, her face white with horror. Below them, on what used to be an expensive uptown side of New York, was reduced to rubble, building toppled, preventing any interference from the law enforcements. The WHC fought against those psi-warriors, that had attacked Jetfire, SG!!!, Red Bishop and Charlotte. “Scanners indicate all the WHC is present, except tre, Cronos and SuperGrover!!!. The Grey King and Blackfire are also present. Rogue landed the plane with little care and the assemblage ascended out, ready to fight. “Nice to see the cavalry has come,” Ozymandias said to Acydic, both overwhelmed with soldiers. Acydic gave no response. He was engaged in a combat of will with another soldier. “What is going on?” screamed the man in the tower. He looked crimson, resembling his attire. “Those people can’t stay out of my way!” One nervous man approached the ranting leader. “Milord,” he began, “the Hellion Headmaster is present as is the Black Prince and Bishop.” A smile crawled along the leader’s face. “Send in more troops,” he hissed, “make sure they don’t escape!”
Chastity stood at the edge of her balcony that led from her bedroom. The cool night’s air felt good against her skin. As did the exquisite red lace dressing gown that covered her body. Suddenly, she felt a cold, metallic hand slip around her waist, warm breathe grazing the back of her neck. Then she felt herself being pulled back into the bedroom by an invisible force, closing the doors behind her. A smile of delight spread across her face.
“We are being overwhelmed,” Cyclops demanded, as he combated several soldiers. Psi-shot set off many telekinetic bolts, taking out a large portion of Cyclops’ attackers. The young prince mentally agreed. More and more people seemed to be coming to their attack. Suddenly a large black circle appeared in the sky. Everyone looked on is curiosity. From the void came several green tendrils, all laced with a green surfeiting claws. “Look out!” screeched Ben Ring, pushing Rogue out of the way of the grasping claws. The claw seized him in this chest, the sharp blades of fingernails piercing his skin. He could feel the razor sharp swords cut through his left lung. The pain was so intense; the Black Bishop could barely keep conscious. Abruptly Nathan severed the claw with one powerful blast of energy. He noticed Psi-shot’s sudden predicament. He was swamped with green wisps of wriggling tendrils. Ozymandias was fighting alongside Acydic to free him, but they too were being attacked. He focused three blasts of energy to try and free them. But the blast missed, leaving him open to his own attacks of tendrils.
“The swiftness of these beats, match my own!” exclaimed Gomurr, acrobatically escaping from a pursuing tendril. He blasted the thing with a bolt of mystical energy. The monster merely re-generated itself. “It seems immune to magic,” he cried. Daemon charged into the tendril, his stealth and speed tearing it from the abyss. It disintegrated into thin air. Beside the proud Grey King was Mufasa, a man of many secrets. Savageness and ferociousness not being one of them. His beast-like hands tore through the persisting tendrils. Behind him stood the radiant Blackfire, only her angelic appearance was turned bloodied and bruised, her fury matching the red locks of hair that nurtured her head. Using her ability to manipulate fire, she had set fire to several tendrils, but it seemed to have no effect. Eventually the fiery woman was overcome by tendrils, which tried to drag he angel away to ‘Heaven’. But Daemon wasn’t allowing that. Using his speed he darted to his girlfriend’s rescue, hammering the tendrils with sheer force. The iron grip soon loosened under the wrath of the King. Toby, who lay unconscious on the ground, along with a weak Acydic and Angelic, began to be coiled in the thick green scales and were dragged into the abyss. Slowly HavocOne ceased his wriggling and protest and slowly elevated into the abyss. Psi-shot tried to grip his Bishop telekinetically, only to be consumed by the same fate. “Suck on this!” screamed Charlotte slicing the tendrils with her trusty katanna. She had formidable control over her weapon. But the combined efforts of the BHC and WHC along with the Hellions wasn’t defeating the tendrils and the psi-warriors. She noticed Havoc One’s gaping chest as he ascended above her. Mentally she used her ability to heal his chest. But this left the young queen off guard. Several tendrils finally consumed her and dragged her fitfully into the blackness. Hawkeye darted swiftly from his predators, severing them with old pieces of metal work. He still had the old fighting skill. Three heavily armoured men blocked his way. With little effort the Headmaster leveled the attackers. Suddenly he was attacked by about ten tendrils, which slowly dragged him into the abyss. Gomurr could see how this battle was going. Psi-shot, HavocOne, Acydic, Angelic and Toby along with Hawkeye had all been abducted. He had to channel off that abyss. Summoning his mystical powers, the old mage began an enchantment. Purple energy made the air around him crackle. Using the full force of the energy e finally shut the abyss. Rogue looked groggily at Monet, who was still combating several soldiers. The Queen assisted her Mage. Cyclops looked for some assistance. He noticed Ozymandias in heavy combat with many soldiers. Although a more quiet and reserved member of the White Court, Ozymandias sure had fighting spirit. The Bishop went towards his knight, to offer his assistance. Nebula and her Red House counterpart battled the men, the two making quite a pair. Diablo effortlessly dispersed the crowds of fighters, helped by the hued skinned Gomurr. Daemon and Blackfire made a phenomenal team, rendering huge amounts of soldiers to lifeless husks in mere moments. Eventually some calmness regained the fight. Ozymandias reached out telepathically, but was met with a more powerful force. “It is the Red Bishop here,” he said mentally, “your crafts are damaged. Red Court pods are coming to pick you up. I am going to mentally wipe these events from the civilians minds.” Rapidly a large teleportation portal opened, and out came several pods. Then the rocks and rubble ascended into the air, moved by telekinetic force.
“That was a disaster!” screamed the leader. He began throwing things across the large, expensive room. “I even summoned my demonic characteristics, but those idiots still lived!” He gave a sly laugh. “But I do have my little trophies!” he chuckled. “Bring them to me!” With that he began rubbing his hands. “Round three was marginally successful, but I truly won round four!”
SuperGrover!!! sat adjacent his former equal in the IHFC, sipping a very fine glass of scotch. Ryan sure knew how to live well. “You seem nervous, Grover,” Ryan said, looking at the White King. “My court have all been attacked, some presumed missing. You would be.” Ryan gave a little chuckle. “Would I? You care too much about your Court. The Inner Circle are merely tools for the King to use to help him in his quest.” Ryan’s expensive chair suddenly rose into the air. “Oh, are we?” the Red Bishop mused, floating into the room. The Red King gave an amused laugh. “Indeed,” he muttered, “but the best darn tools this side of the Atlantic.” Steven rolled his eyes, and then dropped the King’s chair to the ground, spilling him onto the floor. “Jetfire ahs retired to my library for a quiet moment,” Steven began, “Greg and Epyon are keeping watch over the medical facility. I thought I’d see if you two weren’t decapitating each other.” SuperGrover!!! gave a little scoff. “Why exactly did you teleport me here, Steven?” the White King demanded. “We have need of a conference,” Ryan began. “It seems everyone has just arrived.” The Red King pointed to his viewing screen that monitored the hanger bay. Many pods began landing.
The conference room was packed with activity. The many bodies huddled around the old antique table increased the heat. Ryan rose to his feet. The Red Court sat to his left and right, at the top of the table, and the assembled Black Court positioned the left hand side of the table, whilst their White compatriots sat on the right of the table. “For the record,” Ryan began, “the assembled members of the Red Court Inner Circle present are: The Red King and Bishop. Wolfox stRanger, Charlotte Sometimes and Chastity Darkholm are absent. We have invited the White King, SuperGrover!!!, the White Queen, Nebula, the White Bishop, Cyclops, the White Knight Ozymandias, the White Pawn, Diablo and the White Mage, Gomurr the Ancient. From the Black Hellfire Club we have invited Rogue, the Black Queen, Greg, the Black Knight, Monet, the Black mage, Jetfire, the Black Scribe and Nathan Sommers the Black Rook. Also visiting are the Grey King, Daemon and Blackfire, an associate of the Hellfire Clubs. Finally, Bluntman and Sunlit, both residing in the joint Hellions are present. Let us begin our meeting.” SuperGrover!!! and Rogue jumped up immediately, and simultaneously. “Stuff the small talk Ryan,” Rogue, “what the Hell do you want? We should be looking for the missing members.” Daemon put his hand on the Queen’s shoulder, kindly seating her. “I understand your concern,” Steven began, rising to his feet, “something has seriously happened here. Earlier, the Red queen and myself were attacked by certain psi-warriors. Then the Black Scribe is attacked. SuperGrover!!! is also attacked by the same warriors then the building where the White Rook, Grey King, White Bishop and Blackfire are residing is attacked. Whoever attacked that building knew it would attract a lot of attention. They also knew we would come to aide. Then some freaky abyss attacks us all, has attacked us, taking several members.” Daemon gave a little mockery of a clap. “Interesting, the Bishop can actually summarise. But we still don’t know why.” Daemon suddenly felt himself being forced to sit down. He stared at the Red Bishop. He showed no sign of using his telekinethesis, but Daemon knew he was pushing him down. “Whilst the fight occurred, I have been thinking about something. The Black Court, with all due respect, is Kingless at the moment. So the next best candidate for Kingship would be either the Prince, or Bishop. But neither of them is here. In the White Court, the King was attacked. With all due respect, I think if SG!!! was ever to resign as King, Cyclops and Mufasa would assume Kingship. And both were attacked, Mufasa being kidnapped. In the Red Court, I am not bragging, but after Ryan, I am the next King. No one would attack a Flesh elemental, Ryan is too powerful, but they could attack me. No one knew of my immortality until I revealed it a few weeks ago. And Charlotte is fast becoming a powerful figure in the Court. We were both attacked. And finally, Daemon, the King, was attacked. If he was out of the way, my guess either Maul, but he’s dead, or Hawkeye would assume Kingship. And Hawkeye is gone.” Everyone looked quite mesmerised. “Don’t you see,” Steven said, his voice higher and concerned, “someone, or something, is trying to weaken the Clubs.” This theory made a lot of sense. “Ah!” said Blackfire, rising from her elegant seat, her torn dress replaced with a lavish white gown, “where do Toby, Angelic and Acydic fit in to your plan?” Steven shot a ‘thanks for messing up my plan’ look at Blackfire. “I think,” he said, rubbing his chin, “this person needs hostages.” Once again, the Bishop’s words made perfect sense. After a short deliberation, it was decided the Bishop’s theory made logic. “What do we do know?” Ozymandias said, “I’ll try and contact them telepathically.” Steven gave a forced smile. “It is no use,” he said, “I am the most powerful telepath in the Courts, seconded only by perhaps Mystikal, and I have met with defeat.” The White Knight looked severely annoyed at the Red Bishop’s arrogance. But Nebula’s expression begged the Knight to remain quiet. “The only thing we can do,” Monet said coldly, “is wait to see who’s next.”
The room was dark, cold and wet. Toby tried to move. But clearly she was bonded with chains, the cold metal pressing against her delicate wrists. The floor was slick and wet. Something scurried quickly across her foot. She gave a little shriek. The only light in the room was given by a rusty, wrought iron candlestick holder. She tried using her pryokinethesis to extend the flame. But nothing happened. The White Assassin realised she had a power dampener around her neck. There came a groaning beside her, clearly a female voice. The young woman turned to see the Red Queen, fixed in the same manacles, her radiance drained from her. “What’s happened?” she groaned blearily. “We’re in some kinda weird-ass prison, and we’ve got no freakin’ powers!” Toby said, suddenly aware of her shrieking voice. The red queen began to speak but the thunderous sound of the heavy door opening averted the women’s attention. In stepped three cloaked men, behind them several psi-warriors. The light from the passage illuminated the room. It was a terribly drained dungeon, water and other unpleasantries lining the floor. The Red Queen noticed Psi-shot, HavocOne, Mufasa, Acydic and Angelic chained to the wall, along with them. But none of them were awake. “’Tis time to meet your doom,” the cloaked men said, motioning for the soldiers to seize the prisoners, “at the hands of the Chosen One.” That name sent shivers down Charlotte’s spine. Where had she heard that name before?
Ryan, SG!!!, Daemon, Nebula and Rogue all sat in Ryan’s private study. Everyone else reported to the infirmary. Steven was making sure everyone was in physically good condition. Something had to be done fast. Eventually everyone met again in the Red Bishop’s library (one of the biggest rooms in the Red Court mansion). “It has been decided,” Rogue started, “that a suitable course of action must be put into order. So we are assigning groups.” Daemon took over. “Each group will be put somewhere in New York City and some of you in Seattle. We are waiting for the next attack.” Ryan began, “The groups are as followed. We have mixed the people who have been attacked into separate groups. Myself, Rogue, DarkFallenAngel and Sunlit. Jetfire, Ozymandias and Epyon. Blackfire, Ryan and Greg. SuperGrover!!!, Diablo and Bluntman. Cyclops, Monet and Gomurr.” After the groups had been assigned the Clubs started into motion. SuperGrover!!! felt rather humble. After all the stresses and strains of separate Clubs, these four groups could still indeed help one another. It was rather reassuring to the White King.
“Did anyone get the number of that bus that hit me?” Psi-shot said, pain in his voice, grasping his throbbing head. Havoc1 grunted and turned away from the young prince. Acydic was still out cold, positioned beside Angelic. Mufasa said quietly, near the edge of the cage. Toby and Charlotte sat quietly next to one another. Hawkeye looked disgruntled to the extremes of the word. The men carrying the cage were strong; it took only four of them to lift the entire prisoners. This building was quite impressive. Beneath, it resembled a gothic castle, but on top it was a very modern New York building. And immensely large. They came to a large, wooden, carved door. After the guards aloud them access, the doors closed behind them. This room was incalculably large, and dark. “Welcome to your final resting place,” hissed a mechanical voice. Hawkeye, Havoc1 and Mufasa all exchanged tentative glances. “I know that voice,” barked the Black Bishop. The man on the large window frame turned to the assemblage. His eyes were as wild as fire. It reminded him of a poem the RKB had taught the Academy. What was it?
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting,
On the pallid bust of Pallass just above my chamber door,
And his eyes, have the seeming, of a demon that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor,
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted…nevermore!
“It’s you!” screeched Hawkeye. The man turned to him. “Indeed it is, are you glad to see me? “‘Tis unfortunate you shall die here today!” With that, the mad man let out a roaring cry of laughter.
“But what about me?” the RKB said, “who shall I accompany?” Ryan turned to him. “You are to fly above us, monitoring our movements telepathically. You must alert the groups of when an attack is about to start.” With this the Library emptied, leaving only the Red Bishop and his thoughts. He hurried to the lab and pulled out a small headset, placing it upon his head. “Nice hat,” murmured the Red Knight from his bed. Steven turned to him. “It is a portable Cerebro system I have invented. Now kindly shut up.” With that the Red Bishop phased himself and ran through the walls to the Hangar Bay, finally taking his position in Daemon’s pod. He could sense this was going to be a long night.
The reviving light of the fresh sunshine began to peer through he lace, silken curtain of the Red rook’s Florida Beach-house. This light serpentine crept into her room, the heat burning down soothingly on her skin. Chastity suddenly woke up, curled on her lover’s chest. She carefully spilled out of the smooth, silk sheets. Chastity suddenly became aware of her nakedness. Gracefully, she glided over to the petite dresser in the corner, and slipped on a beautiful blue dressing gown. Silently she phased through the superbly dressed French windows onto her balcony. She guessed it was about four thirty am. How she adored this part of the world, the wonderful, golden sand hugging the landscape, with the turquoise tropical waters displaying their luminosity, their vibrancy. The Red Rook spotted some movement behind her. With a smoothing, seductive smile she span around to greet whoever stood before her. But rather uncannily there was no one there. Then she realised it was merely a shadow of someone in front of her. “Greetings Aquapyro,” she began, not facing her peer, “what may I do for you?” Kyle remained silent. His knees were trembling, his heart racing. “Has someone got you excited?” she laughed, spinning around to meet the Hellion. She slid over to him, her lips almost meeting his. “Yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he choked. Chastity gave a flattered laugh, and pulled him closer to her, embracing his lips. Then she suddenly blasted the Hellion over the balcony with a powerful bolt of mystical energy. Using her teleportation powers, she arrived at the scene where the Hellion had tumbled. “Try that again,” she growled, “and you may change your impression of me. Now be gone!” Kyle hurried away from her. Chastity spotted a man on her balcony, the sunlight glittering off his metallic arm. She smiled and teleported behind him, nibbling his ear. “Why did Kyle get so freaked?” the man asked. Chastity gave a lustful laugh. “The boy has a crush on me.” Her man laughed. “He’d be silly not to, your beauty is too much.” Chastity pulled violently away. “You do realise this is only a business arrangement,” she began. He laughed. “Why yes, I do. Why make more of it than there really is?” The Red Rook gave a satisfied grin.
Chapter Five
Despite the earliness of the hour, New York was springing with life. “Still quiet,” Rogue said, taking a sip of her espresso. Daemon nodded, never taking his vision off the surrounding area. They were a slight distance from Time Square, in one of those portable coffee houses. DarkFallenAngel sat quietly. She’d been informed of the situation when she arrived. It didn’t actually thrill her. “What I don’t get,” Sunlit said, her accent heavy and clearly German, “is why we couldn’t just locate the rest of them.” Rogue sighed. “Because they are telepathically invisible and Diablo and Gomurr can’t locate them magically.” The young Hellion just shrugged. Daemon caught sight of the Red Bishop. He jumped to his feet, ready for action. But the Bishop just shook his head. “We had better move to somewhere else,” the Grey King said, “don’t want to arouse suspicion.” Bluntman gave a little laugh. Daemon’s physique and tattoos didn’t actually blend in. Rogue and DFA agreed. The four mutants walked casually down the streets. This was probably the only time in New York that one could walk down a street without being attacked by feet, hands and bodies. It had been a long night, the strain showing upon their faces. But nothing had happened. Nothing at all. Rogue thought how comforting a little rant from DarkWolf would be. But for now, her Rexy was gone.
Blackfire was fatigued, but didn’t show any signs of weakness. She was still immensely uncomfortable around the Red King. The stories she’d heard, the things she’d witnessed as White Queen made her weary of such a man. The presence of Greg made her more easy. Although she didn’t know him very well, at least he was company. Blackfire was surprised how much more calmer and humane Ryan seemed. But she knew that a rose by anyother name would smell as sweet. The restaurant was quiet. Ryan had offered the owner a handsome amount to let them station themselves here. Seattle was a wonderful place. “More coffee, my dear?” Ryan asked, holding the pot in his hand. “No thank you Ryan, I have had more than enough,” she lied. She needed something to keep her awake. But there was no way she’d allow Ryan to think she was weak. “Still no activity,” the Black Knight said, annoyance in his voice. “This is getting ridiculous,” Blackfire said, “the more time goes past, the more likely we are to never find them again!” She slammed her palms onto the table. “This plan is stupid!” she flamed. Greg flew up from the table. “What else are we going to do?” The two were nearly at each other’s throats. Lack of sleep and worry was making them both reckless and argumentative. Ryan stood up. Each could feel a painful tightness in their chests. “Calm it!” he said bluntly. The two agreed like children obeying their parents. Suddenly a peculiar bolt of purple energy emerged from thin air. Ryan recognised it. It was the Red Bishop’s Astral Plane. “All people report to Times Square immediately!” Instantly the three Hellfire Club members rushed out of the restaurant into the Red Court’s pod. “Looks like your wish has been granted,” the Red King insisted.
The Red Bishop phased instantly, and dissolved into the greenery that surrounded the park. He could see several psi-warriors scouting the grounds. This struck him as an odd occurrence. Whoever was attacking them, surely liked public places. The portable Cerebro unit was transferring his thoughts to the others. Suddenly he picked up a familiar brain pattern. Rogue! That must mean Daemon is here. It annoyed him how he couldn’t usually pick up Daemon’s brainwaves. He also felt DFA; her telepathy set her apart from most people’s brainwaves, and Sunlit. That made him a little more settled. He teleported to join the quartet. “God Steven,” DFA shouted, “you nearly killed me!” Steven glanced sharply at her. “You are still in my Academy,” he hissed, “Sir is how you shall address me.” Daemon looked at him, his cold black eyes and towering physique intimidating the Red Bishop. Steven knew in a physical battle, Daemon could win. But he was thankful for his weakness to psionic energy. “There are several squadrons of warriors here,” he said to everyone telepathically. “Let’s attack them then,” Daemon commanded, “what are we waiting for. Invitations?” Steven held him telekinetically. The Grey King easily broke free from Steven’s weak grasp. “Touch me again,” he said through gritted teeth, “and I’ll rip your head off.” Steven shrugged this threat off. That’s what annoyed people the most about him. He was smug, ignorant and over confidant. “We shouldn’t attack,” he said, “there are too many.” DFA tutted. “I like those odds!” She ran in pursuit of the soldiers. Daemon smiled and followed her, as did Sunlit. Steven nodded his head and followed behind with Rogue.
Ozymandias flew above the large square; in his telekinetic grasp were his subordinates. He could sense Steven, and was trying to home in on him. But the psi-warriors sent out a barrier of telepathic confusion. Eventually the White Knight spotted the man. Gracefully, he ascended to meet the five. “We heard your distress signal,” Jetfire said, as he landed, “what’s up.” Steven Booth was the first to speak. “Psi-warriors,” he informed, “several of them. I suggest we keep side-tracked until re-enforcements arrive.” Jetfire scoffed. There are eight of us….that’s even enough!” Suddenly an imp appeared from the shadows, his green robe quite a contrast from his hue skin. Behind him came a radiant young woman and a tall man. “Nice to see you can turn up on time,” Steven laughed at Gomurr. Monet and Cyclops stepped from the shadows. “That’s creepy,” Monet announced. Gomurr informed, “Well, I get used to it. At least it is faster than walking. Steven, I am aware of the situation. We must wait for the rest to arrive.” Steven nodded in agreement, looking smugly at the others. Daemon and Jetfire urged to wipe than grin from his face. Without warning a green line began piercing the air. A sharp gust of wind toppled through, sending several members of the crowd hurtling to the ground. Out dropped Blackfire, Greg, Ryan, SG!!!, Bluntman and finally Diablo. “I was unfortunate to have bumped into the Red King’s group. SuperGrover!!! insisted I teleported them here. So here we are!” Diablo, God of Hell groaned. “So what do we do now?” Bluntman said uncertainly. He wasn’t used to seeing so many important people. “We stay on our toes and together, hopefully the mad-man who apprehended our colleagues will lead us to them,” Gomurr informed them, rubbing his chin.
“That’s what you think, old man,” a twisted voice began. “You weirdo!” Mufasa grunted, “you always were a mad mother…” the White Rook commenced. He was however halted in his speech. Some force grasped his neck tightly. If only he had his photon aura. But that had been somehow shut off. “YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?” screamed the leader. Toby gritted her teeth tried to separate the invisible hand from Mufasa’s throat. “Stop it, Ian, you are hurting him,” she cried. Suddenly Mufasa was dropped. “Don’t refer to me in that name,” Ian said, “Ian died with his title as Red Bishop, stolen from him. I am the Chosen One.” He summoned several bolts of energy and fired them at Toby. “That is your punishment. Fell lucky I shall make your end quick, but the RKB and Ryan won’t be so easily disposed of!” He let out a bellow, a laugh of a mad man possessed.
The group were thankful for the architecture of the square, keeping them hidden from the warriors. “The time to act is at hand,” Gomurr commanded, backed up by SuperGrover!!!. “Remember our plan.” And with that they ascended upon the psi-warriors, a bloody battle began raging. Gomurr cast a spell, sealing them from the eyes of the public. Steven was still amazed at how powerful the old mage was. He remembered his words of wisdom he received from Gomurr. “The sorcerer is only as powerful is his will and ability to learn how to master his skill.” Those words rang around in Steven’s head, as he was blasted by a plasma rifle. Two soldiers soon took advantage of the situation, pouncing on him. Using all his physical strength, he pried the two soldiers from him, and then telekinetically hurled them into a bunch of attackers that had decided to harass Bluntman. To his right was Daemon, taking out many of the warriors with ease. He moved so gracefully, so effective. That’s when it hit Steven. How could Daemon be affected by an explosion? The man could eat nuclear warheads and only have to brush his teeth later and take a breath mint (so what if I stole it from somewhere!). RKB made a telepathic link with the Grey King. “Daemon, what was the origin of the explosion? My readings indicated kinetic plasma, but that’s impossible.” Damon was concentrating on fighting, but he echoed back. “Either magic or psionic.” Steven mused for a moment. “It must have been magic, or I would have detected it. That’s why you were actually injured.” It made sense. Blackfire shouted a warning to the Bishop, who stood there thinking. She was too late. A soldier fired a full blast energy beam at RKB. But Daemon intervened, sending the bolt flying from him. Steven looked on in amazement. It didn’t even dent him! “Thank you,” he said, scrambling to his feet. Daemon shrugged and continued battling. As predicted, a large portal once again opened over the square. But instead of dragging them all through, something seemed to be secreting from it. The lightless void slowly melted over the landscape, making an arena that took the shape of Times Square. The concrete roads were plated with marble and glass, as did the walls. Then came legions of psi-warriors. Everyone huddled together defensively. Finally a white case came through containing the missing members of the Clubs. “Welcome,” a familiar voice ringed. Steven’s eyes grew wide with horror of recognising that voice. He glanced sideways at Ryan, who looked as distraught. Abruptly a figure in crimson red robes appeared from the void, closing it as he did. “OH MY GOD!” shouted Steven, physic energy glowing from his body. The robed man gave a little laugh. “Glad to see you recognise me.” By now, everyone recognised that oily voice, tinted with insanity. “But…your dead,” SuperGrover!!! said. Ian threw his hood back, showing his twisted face and satanic appearance. “No I am not. When you severed me from the Red Court and placed that worm in my place, I almost killed myself. Until I met a little someone you all know and love as the Hellgoat!” That name sent chills down everyone’s spine. “Incoherent rubbish, you stupid idiot!” Diablo demanded, “I should destroy you for even mentioning my father’s name.” Ian gave a mechanical laugh. “Silence, you fool. I sold my soul to papa and he gave me these Hellish powers, enough to destroy those who have betrayed me.” Rogue spoke out violently. “Your quarrel is Ryan and Steven,” she spat, “why drag us into it?” Ian gave a thunderous laugh. “The Hellfire club. Mightiest organisation in the world. Bargh! You are all blind fools. I wished to destroy you all. But my plan was excellent, yet mendacious in design. I thought I could destroy the Clubs by eliminating key members. But you all won’t die!” he gave an annoying grunt. “But all shall fall before me!” Psi-warriors began surrounding the Hellfire Club members. RKB suddenly flared up with energy, dispersing them all. “Your battle is with me, you twisted demon,” Steven shouted, “release the others.” Ian stared back, his gaze penetrating Steven. He looked so cold, so full with anger. “You cannot be serious,” he said, his voice rising ever so higher, “they are the bait!” The warriors attacked, but were met with a barrier of defence. Cyclops tried blasting the cage containing their compatriot’s open, but his blast was deflected. Gomurr tried, and with Diablo’s help, cracked it. Out spilled the members. They ran to the help of their friends. Diablo ascended into the air, where the Red Bishop and the ex-Red Bishop were, locked in a battle of will. “Ian, you obtuse fool, your power cannot rival my own! Feel the wrath of a true God!” Diablo began flaring up energy, but his connection was stopped. In his mind he heard..his father! Suddenly he emerged from the sky, and began fighting the warriors with ease. “I shall not allow you to shed innocent blood!” Steven screamed, lunging for Ian, knocking him through a teleportation portal. Suddenly the two men found themselves on the Astral realm. “Let the battle begin!” Ian said, rumbling with laughter.
Charlotte acrobatically attacked the soldiers, using her skill with her katana as her attack. She had progressed a lot since she had been a young girl, running frightened from that alley. When the Red Bishop found her and taught her how to master her powers and trained her. Swiftly, she span around, slicing a warrior in his abdomen. Unbeknown to the Queen, three soldiers unleashed a wave of energy upon her. This toppled the young woman to the ground, causing her to cry out in pain. Then it began. Her eyes became glazed, her hair and eyes becoming pools of flowing blood. Claws sprouted from her fingertips, and fangs spilled over the cheeks. She gave a hysterical laugh, and dived into the soldiers, tearing them apart like disregarded sacks of meat. Rage was in control! The cold barrel of a gun was placed sharply at her head. “Don’t move or I’ll blast!” he said. Rage span around slicing him almost in two, chuckling to herself.
Steven flew into the astral image of Ian, but Ian’s outmatched his swiftness. The demon put a sharp fist into the old man’s stomach, then a solid kick into his face. Steven could feel the effect of his new God-like powers. Ian no longer just possessed people’s minds, he also had deadly magic. In this fight, Steven knew he couldn’t win. RKB reached across the plane telepathically, sending a medium strength physic flash to the crazed demon. It was quickly thrown back. Steven was using too much energy keeping them on the Plane. Regretfully, he tore back into reality, to face the demon again.
SuperGrover!!! surprised himself with how much savagery he was displaying. But these people tried to kill him. He morphed his Gauntlets into long blades, driving then through he thick armour of the soldiers with ease. Beside him stood Gomurr, using a mixture of karate and magic to tumble his enemies. The two made a good team. That’s the way Grover liked it. Both were shocked to see the Astral Plane ripped open, spilling the Red Bishop and Ian threw. “Steven is too weak to fight this battle,” Gomurr demanded, “It is for us to decide the fate of our friends.” The mage levitated to Diablo, whispering in the God’s ear. Then the duo went before Ian. “What do you two want?” he spat, like a cobra spitting poison, “I am busy.” Diablo blasted him with energy. “This insanity must stop,” Gomurr insisted forcefully. Ian began to laugh but was punched hard in the back by daemon, sending him across the room almost. Ian crawled from the floor. “Your strength is enormous,” he argued. With that, he projected himself into the Grey King. Daemon merely peeled him from him, kicking him to the floor again. Ian summoned a blast of energy, sending the King across the room, followed by Gomurr. He tried to open a channel to hell to receive the full power, but Diablo shut it easily. “I think not!” he shouted. Ian teleported away. But he was grasped telepathically and dragged to the Red Bishop. “You have mastered those abilities,” he stomped at Steven, “just a shame all your hardwork was in vain!” He began flying into Steven, but slid through him. “I am a man of illusion,” Steven said, suddenly making several of him appear. Good he thought to himself the Hellgoat hasn’t changed his mind. Steven then began firing bolts of telekinetic energy at him. Ian became angry and melted the image, blasting the real one. Ian opened a channel to Hell with ease this time, making him much more powerful. Gomurr tried to close it, but it was too strong. “YOU SHALL DIE!” Ian shrieked. Steven mind-linked with Gomurr, absorbing his knowledge. He then began chanting a spell, firing purple bolts of energy as he did. “That is useless,” Gomurr cried, “he making him stronger. The psi-warriors were decimated, and all the members of the White, Red and the visiting courts looked on in awe. “You are making me stronger,” Ian laughed, “you fool!” Suddenly the energy began flowing into Ina, the pathway to hell closing. “What the f,” he began. Diablo gave a laugh. “You think I didn’t keep that channel open for you? You are absorbing all the energy, it is making you get weaker.” Ian tried to speak but found himself growing weaker and weaker. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Steven quoted, “you have given us the key to your downfall. Your eve of destruction shall fall before the might of the Hellfire Club. We all possess powers that rival no other, but we also have wills of steel. You tried breaking the bonds of friendships and love, of tribute and triumph. In doing this you became corrupt and sinister.” Ian began fading away. Steven reached inside his mind, linking it with the others, absorbing their mental energy. “And now,” he said, as Diablo exorcised the power of Hell out of Ian, “I bind you with the power of our united minds to the cold depths of the Astral Plane.” Steven’s body was glowing with energy, he resembled a living star. Finally he erupted with energy, sending it into Ina’s body. After the haze died down, all that was left was Steven, lying motionless on the floor. The arena began vanishing. “What just happened here?” Toby said in an unsure voice. Gomurr took over. “It is simple: Ian sold his soul to the Devil and received more power than he could handle. After being drained from him, he ascended into nothingness. Steven has binded his mind and Ian into one entity. Steven has in effect buried Ian in his part of the astral plane.” There was a groggy voice from the floor. Mufasa helped the Red Bishop up. “Did it work?” he said. “Yes, you have binded him to the Astral plane, and returned his power to hell.” Steven gave a forced laugh. “No I didn’t.” Gomurr looked mysteriously at the man. “I was bluffing. Well, I was able to use my power of illusion to confuse him, which indicated that Ian’s mind hadn’t been changed. So, I telepathically told Diablo to drain him and stole that spell from you to make sure all his energy went. Then Ozymandias telepathically made Ian, and yourselves think I had binded him to the Astral plane, when infact I merely wiped his mind completely clean and teleported him somewhere, but I am unsure just where.” Everyone looked on in amazement. “So basically, Ian’s body was powerful, but his mind was no match for you?” Greg said. Steven nodded satisfactory. After that he opened a portal and everyone stepped through. Before he went through, he looked into the sky. The sun was finally in the sky and the birds were out singing. He gave a smug smile and stepped through.
Epilogue
“If you ask me,” Rogue said, placing her coffee mug down on the dining table, “that was one Hell of an adventure. Just think, we were nearly all killed by a person who was shut down with a flick of a telepath’s finger!” Greg just nodded. “I am surprised how well and effectively Diablo and RKB actually worked on this mission!” Monet almost screeched. “Fighting side by side felt good,” Nate said, eating his Coco Pops, “reminds me of the old times!” DFA rolled her eyes. “You weren’t around in the old times!” she teased. Storm! walked into the dining room, sitting next to Rogue. “Neither were you, Executioner,” she said as she buttered her toast, “I hear there was an awesome battle last night?” Monet giggled and told her all about it. “Sounds delightful,” she said sarcastically. Everyone in the BHC were finally present at the dining table. Rogue stood up and banged her spoon against her crystal glass. “May I have your attention please, the King ahs sent an immediate letter eh requests I read to you all.” With this, Rogue began to read the letter.
Greetings Black Hellfire Club,
Recently, I have been reviewing the positions of the Black Hellfire Club carefully. It seems to me others are excelling themselves and remaining in lowly positions, whilst others merely sit back and relaxing. Well, things will change. Rune left us, as did Outburst. We need solidarity in our Club if we are to stay together. That’s why I have appointed Nathan Sommers as Black Bishop, replacing HavocOne, who shall leave the Club immediately. To fill the position of Rook, I have appointed the RKB, who shall still remain as Headmaster of the Dragonfire Team. These decisions come after much deliberation and thought. I hope I can rejoin you all soon,
Darkwolf.
HavocOne jumped up from the dinner table, flaring energy in his hands. DFA and Storm! stood before Nathan defensively. “Step down Ben,” Rogue said, tears welling in her eyes, “and follow me out of the room.” The former Bishop agreed and headed out of the room. “I cannot believe it!” gasped Nathan. “Ben, I knew not of Darkwolf’s plans,” Rogue said, putting her hand on Ben’s arm. He shrugged it off. "I have given this Court my life, and this is how you repay me. Havok was right: this place is full of deceit and treachery.” With that he walked out of the room, leaving the Queen to collapse into a wave of tears.
Blackfire stood in Daemon’s arms, overlooking the busy skyline of New York. “It was nice of Steven to let us sue his apartment,” Sharon said, leaning against Daemon. He shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, “doesn’t mean I have to like him.” Sharon turned around. “If you gave him a chance, he’s not really that bad,” she said. Daemon just nodded. “I suppose it’s a clash of personalities.” The two forgot about it and sat, nestled in each other, allowing the radiant sunlight to pound down on them. They both took some much-deserved rest.
The halls of the Red Court’s mansion were ringing with activity. Steven sat in his chamber, his Frank Sinatra C.D. blaring around his room. But he couldn’t here it. The Bishop sat sleepily in his chair. A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his dose. “Charlotte,” he said, hugging her as she entered the room, “I thought you’d be getting some much needed rest.” She laughed and noticed the empty carton of strawberry ice cream Steven’s bin. Steven followed her gaze. “Old habits die hard,” he chuckled. Charlotte looked quickly at him. “Stop it, Steven,” she said in a blunt voice, “you don’t have to put the brave face on with me.” Suddenly the radiance dropped from Steven’s face. “It’s all my fault,” he said, floating to the ground. Charlotte smiled at him. “What’s your fault?” she asked. “I almost killed the Courts because of my petty feud with Ian,” he said, trying to keep his emotional state. Charlotte put her arm around him. “Hey, I don’t want my Bishop getting all sulky on me. You did what you had to do and made everything better in the end. Everyone’s talking about you and Diablo.” Steven suddenly looked curiously at her. ”What do you mean?” he asked. Charlotte giggled. “Well, you two actually WORKED TOGETHER.” Steven gave a little laugh. Charlotte had succeeded in brightening his mood. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I must go and make a telephone call to someone. See you alter.” With that he teleported to his office.
"How can I help you Steven?" Chastity said on the other end of the telephone.
"Oh I was just calling to see how things were going."
"Everything is fine. The students are progressing just as I hoped and they are in great shape," Chastity demanded.
"That's funny, because I could've sworn I felt Daemon in pain late last night and early this morning."
Chastity remembered once someone was under his teaching he developed a telepathic link with them. If ever they were in danger he would know. Through he seemed more interested that one of the students was hurt under my care than the fact he was hurt.
"Oh you know my brother. Always training hard. He had a training session late last night and earlier today. He was injured both times, but he is resting it off now," he said.
"Is that so. I wonder how Lord Ryan would react to the fact he was badly injured under your care."
"Keyword in the matter Steven, they're under my care. If anything happens here it is my responsibility and I will handle it. If anything goes wrong I will contact Lord Ryan myself. Now if that is all?"
"No there is one more thing. I don't like the fact of you and Lord Ryan making plans for my students behind my back, and the Queen’s. I will not be kept in the dark again Chastity. I can see now you are a woman with hidden agendas and I don't like it at all."
"You're paranoid Steven, no one is making plans behind your back. I asked Lord Ryan about the idea and he approved it. The only agenda I have is making the Court stronger than ever."
"You talk a good game, but I am not as easily manipulative as Ryan. Good day Chastity."
Steven hung up his receiver. He wouldn’t be defeated. He walked over to the Red King’s office, adjacent to his. He phased through the door, seeing Ryan filing through paperwork. Steven solidified. “Ryan,” he said, “slightly startling him, “I want my Hellions returned to my care..IMMEDIATELY!” Ryan dropped his pen. “Why is that?” the Red king asked, putting on a confused voice. “Drop it Ryan, I am sick of yours and Chastity’s secretive behavior.” Ryan looked at him. “I know not what you are talking about,” he said, “the chosen Hellions shall remain in Ms. Darkholme’s care until she is ready to return.” Steven almost exploded with anger. “Continuation of this behavior may result in my change of heart about association with the Red Court,” Steven said bluntly. Ryan merely locked eyes with him. “You are imagining things, Steven. Everything is okay. You need some rest.” Steven walked out before he did anything stupid. “Oh, and Wolfox is your newest student,” Ryan informed, “Draco is much more suitable as a Knight.” Steven glared at the King and marched down the halls of the mansion, to the Queen’s suite.
“I see you thwarted my little plan,” the HellGoat said, putting his demonic hand on Ryan’s shoulder, “Ian was a waste of time was he not/” Ryan ignored him. “What troubles you my boy?” the demon asked. “Your presence for one,” Ryan spat. The Hellgoat laughed. “I think it has something to do with that Bishop of yours,” he informed. Ryan span around and came face to face with the ugly demon. “You know nothing,” he shouted. The Hellgoat just shook his head, making his horns glimmer in the room’s light. “You truly are a fool,” the demon said, as he melted away, “remember Ryan. Even the mighty can fall.” With that the demon left the chamber. Ryan said in silence, deliberating the words of the demon. Even the mighty can fall.
THE END?
