For the Future, Forget The Past *HF* by the Blue King, Steven Booth

The room was alive with the soft humming of Pavarotti being transmitted through the airwaves of the Red Hellion Ian Fitzroy’s suite. Upon the wall hung marvellous paintings and intricate sculptures, reflecting a large proportion of the young man’s personality. In many ways, Ian had always been a privileged person; no matter what road he wandered down, or what spiral he found himself being absorbed into, he always seemed to land on his feet and start all over again. As a child he was brought up in the extremely wealthy district of Beverley Hills where he was graced and showered with material things. Money, presents, friends…he had them all. But Ian also had a dark secret that threatened to drag him into a towering abyss.

“Ian is different,” Dr. Adler said, staring at the wide-eyed brown haired boy. Ian could see the anguish in his parent’s eyes. That was then.

He’d come so far since that day an elderly man with the purest white hair and most chilling blue eyes pulled up to Ian’s parents’ beach house. Ian remembered the way his ruby red suit and sparkling black shoes made him look so important, so prestigious. “My names Dr. Booth,” he said in a peculiar accent, shaking his father’s uncertain hand. The man smelled of roses; a dominant fragrance that still tantalised Ian’s nasal receptors today. “Ian here is different,” the important man said, carefully stirring the silver teaspoon in his tea, “and I have a special place for him.” Ian remembers that man placing a bizarre looking ‘H’ seal in his father’s hand, and smiling widely. Ian’s dad looked white; almost as white as the prominent looking man. “It is his destiny to take a place in my Club,” the man declared, as he rose from the armchair and made it to the front door, “you cannot deny him his destiny.” Ian didn’t realise just how important that ‘H’ was.

“I see we’re all dressed up tonight,” Luke Howarth, the Elemental and low ranking General Member commented as he walked into Ian’s room; his powerful legs carrying him gracefully across the plush purple carpet that hugged the Red Hellion’s floor.

“There nothing like looking your best,” Ian said as he fidgeted with a carnation that he was trying hard to fix to his emerald green blazer that slipped delicately over his silken white shirt. A corresponding pair of bright green pants finished off Ian’s attire, along with a blue necktie.

“If you ask me,” Luke said in a husky, mysterious voice, “I think you have a date!” Ian’s cheeks began to fill with crimson; giving him a very embarrassed, schoolboy look about him.

“It’s not really a date, she’s just a girl who is employed at Steven’s Tennessee Mutant Research Facility.” Luke just rolled his green eyes and began to squeal as he left the room, allowing Ian to continue his difficult task of fixing his carnation to his suit. “Damn thing never goes on….” He grumbled to himself.

“I hate November,” Steven grumbled in an arrogant tone as he telekinetically levitated two crystal glasses from a platter, situated across from their seats in the elegant limousine. Lush, purple carpet decked the floor adding a more comfortable and springy feel to it; complemented nicely by the exquisite black leather that hugged then seats charily. The vehicle moved lethargically through the heaving traffic that congested and blocked the roads, like slick oil clogging up a kitchen sink. Steven booth’s face began to fill with colour; slowly matching his apple red suit and proceeding beyond the constraints of the wonderful colour.

“What on Earth is going on Yenson?” the Red Bishop growled in a ferocious tone, enough to phase even the strongest of hearts. The limo driver began to frantically pull as his long, rich black locks of hair that fell just after his chin, twisting them around his index finger. “Stop that immediately, and answer me when I question you fool!” Steven screamed, throwing the platter on the floor; flailing his fists around widely.

“Now now, Steven,” a silky voice said, placing a green gauntlet on the Red Bishop’s shoulder, playfully pulling him to his seat. Steven snapped his head violently to his attacker, and then his eyes began to soften and grin spread across his face.

“You’re right, ShockWave,” he said as he laughed half-heartily, straightening his attire and telekinetically placing the soiled glasses and platter back in their place. Steven secretly cursed himself inside. There was something that drew him to ShockWave. Not a romantic passion or an obsession, but Steven could see an aura to ShockWave unlike no other. There was an air of mystery, loyalty, compassion and kindness to this woman that told RKB she was the perfect person to have in the International Hellfire Club. Although no title had been bestowed upon her, Shockwave had proved herself to be very loyal to the team in the few days she’d been there. It was a good move for you to track her down Steven thought to himself, she’s a valuable asset to the team. The Red Bishop smiled at ShockWave; a friendly, warm smile. This woman also had a strong sense of morality and an unwavering defence against manipulation. There’s too much of that already in the Red Court Steven said to himself, too much indeed. Perhaps ShockWave will be my rock in the Red Court, someone who I can trust whole-heartedly.

“Your very quiet,” ShockWave said, “something wrong?” Steven just smiled kindly at her; as a grandfather would smile at his grandchild. “No my dear, nothing at all,” he declared before turning his attention once more to the traffic jam, rambling slightly about his arrogant hatred for Christmas shoppers.

“Rogue,” DarkWolf said as he stared across the delicately arranged BHC lawns, fixating his gaze on the trickling fountain that was still dribbling. The sun had began to descend from the sky, leaving behind a trail of orange sky, as it made its way beyond the horizon, allowing the onslaught of solid blackness that comes with night set firmly upon the landscape. The Black Queen looked up from the pile of papers she’d been dictating the BHC’s progress report from with a puzzled, questioning look on her face. DarkWolf couldn’t help but adore the way her knee length, pure black skirt and sleeveless black blouse clung elegantly to her beautiful physique.

“Yes, Justin?” she said as she began to brush away some truant strands of orange hair that had began to invade her face.

“Do you think I made the right decision about firing Matt?” he said quite blandly, avoiding direct eye contact with the Queen. DarkWolf began to sweat slightly, fidgeting with his collar to allow some air to circulate around his body. Rogue’s mouth slightly gaped open in astonishment, a demanding look upon her face.

DarkWolf began to speak in an uncertain tone. “It’s just it must have been hard for him to return to the Club that HE started and take a semi-important role instead of leading. Instead of tossing him out, don’t you think we should have given him a chance?”

“The fact of the matter is,” Rogue, said as she herself avoided DarkWolf’s lingering eye motions, “matt left of his own accord, and I doubt his conduct in the BHC would have improved.” She then looked straight at DarkWolf with a warm, affectionate smile. “Don’t beat yourself up about him.”

DarkWolf nodded and quickly scrambled out of the room as he picked up Nate’s scent in the corridor. He needed to speak to him and gave Rogue a speedy ‘Good bye’ as he darted out of the room. The Black Queen just shook her head and continued to scan the report.

Chastity crossed the room with grace and elegance, combining her astounding sword fighting skills and her shrewd magical capabilities to easily overwhelm the sentinel being she’d programmed to test her sword fighting skills. It had been too long since she’d felt this good. Sweat rolled freely from her forehead, her breath coming out in short, hoarse rasps. Indeed she hadn’t felt this good since…. a sudden memory began to flood into her mind.

The Red Courts Property was huge. There was a mansion for the Inner Circle members, one for the Hellions, a guesthouse, a training building for the Hellions, a courtyard in front of a large ballroom and a large pool. It was a wonderful sight from above. As I flew lower above the Training grounds I could see someone inside. I decided to come closer to see who it was. As I entered the building I saw a large figure having a sword fight with a practice dummy. Immediately I noticed it was Ian. He was shirtless and shoeless. His body was covered in sweat that caused his body to gleam in the moonlight coming from the glass roof. He was a great swordsman. He moved with such speed and grace that it would be hard to keep up with him, if you were someone who was untrained. My father had put me in swordsmen classes at the age of four. The swordsmen class combined with my ballet classes made me a better swordswoman than even my teacher. This time I wasn’t going to be shy. I was going to approach Ian with the confidence I always have. I cleared my voice and yelled,

"Your weak on your left side." Ian stopped spun around to face me and replied,

"Excuse me!"

With an arrogant tone I answered, "Your weak on your left side. You leave it wide open for an attack."

"How dare you insult me technique. I am strong in every area, especially my left side."

“Well you’ll never found out by fighting a dummy." Ian glanced at the dummy than back at me, he smiled and said,

"Is that a challenge?” I took my cloak off and as it fell to the ground my clothing morphed into a woman pirate’s outfit, of course in red. I moved my hand in a circular motion forming a cloud of smoke. The smoke began to take the shape of a sword and as I put my hand to where the handle, would be it became a real sword. I took the edge of the sword and made a semi-circle on the ground. Ian looked as if he was not impressed. He rushed to me with great speed and swung his sword as well. I blocked his attack and gave him a little smile but he kept his war face on. Our swords clang a couple of times before I saw my opening. I made a swift attack to his left, giving him a sharp cut to the side.

He did a backward flip and rubbed his fingers against his side. He looked at the blood on his fingers and looked up at me. I had a small laugh and said, "I told you."

This time he returned my smile. He rushed me again. Our swords clang longer than before and with more force. Until Ian made two quick attacks cutting my leg and a piece of my hair. He smiled and said, "You get too cocky when you’re fighting.” I could’ve easily healed my hair, and myself but I choice to keep these war scars for know. Our sparing match went on for half the night. And it became more of a dance than a match. As the sun was coming up our dance had to end, we both made three more clangs and than froze. My sword was at his throat and his was at my heart. Both our swords edges were close enough to their targets that they drew blood. Ian smiled and said, "A draw?"

I smiled and used my control over the wind to blow him across the room. I laughed and said, "For know."

Tears began to form in the corner of Chastity’s eyes, as the long since wounds, which were sewn together, have painfully been ripped open, exposing all her demons from the past. She stumbled backwards, losing her grip on the amt and fell face first onto the gymnasium floor, cracking her skull as she did. Black dots began to collide through the air, causing her to fall into a state of dizziness. Snap out of it Chastity scolded herself as she tried to regain her footing, scrambling to her feet in a disorientated fashion. Clicking her carefully manicured, blood red fingernails she summoned a derelict stool that lay unattended in the corner of the room. “Just calm down,” she said aloud, trying to reassure herself, "Ian’s long gone. He went and left you, but that’s made you stronger. Even Queens of Hellfire Clubs can sometimes have bad memories.”

Steven’s oily English voice suddenly appeared in Chastity’s ears. “You don’t need him,” her memory said as it replayed Steven’s first response to Ian’s leaving of the Club, “you have friends here that love and care for you.” Chastity began to smile. She did have a strong and powerful court filled with people she loved and adored. She had nothing to worry about. With that, the Red Queen continued her virtuous workout, unaware she was being observed.

“My Queen,” Ryan said, as he stood engulfed in shadows that dominated the sterile corridor that led from the observation deck of the danger room where the Red Queen was situated. He took a quick, savouring drink of the prosperous liquor that swirled around in his crystal tumbler. “You truly are a wondrous sight. Indeed, the time is at hand for your splendour to be adored by more.” A wicked, powerful smile crept across the Red King’s face as he bit his lips with anxiety, his eyes following the graceful figure of Chastity Darkholme hungrily. Prising himself away from her, Ryan Jensen began to walk meticulously down the dark corridor, his predominant smile never phasing from his handsome, structured face.

Gene sat rather quietly in his White Court office, resting his tired feet on his sturdy office desk. He’d been busy all morning filling out mountains of superfluous paperwork that wasn’t even necessary. With a heartily sigh, he looked at the pile of mail that had accumulated in front of him. Taking his silver letter opener in his hand, he wrenched open a very proficient looking letter with the most elegant script splashed on the front of the envelope. Upon further investigation he was encountered with more of the luxurious writing. Quickly he scanned the letter, his facial expressions changing as he did. With an uncertainty clinging to his mind, he re-read the letter, suspiciously evaluating it. There must have been some mistake. With a puzzled look on his face he wandered from his lavishly furbished chair and began to ramble down the copiously designed halls of the WHC mansion and finally collided with the White Rook, Khalid Hunter. “Look at this,” Gene said bluntly, thrusting the almost calligraphically styled letter into his rough hands.

Khalid looked apprehensively at Gene. “This has to be a wind up,” he growled, “that stuck up, snotty little runt couldn’t possibly be serious. Here’s one of Ryan’s pawns for crying out loud!”
. Gene laughed at the thought of RKB having a combat with Mufasa. It was something that would surely be a quite interesting arrangement to see. “I think he actually wants to come and teach here,” Gene declared, “but with his affiliation with the IHFC, RKB isn’t coming here.” Khalid nodded in agreement, and headed down the corridors.

“Your quiet tonight, Kyle,” Marnie Fix said as she grabbed tighter into the Red Hellion’s strappingly powerful arm, smiling seductively at him. Kyle’s gaze remained transfixed on the large cinema screen in front of him; his eyes tracking the people on the screen with acute accuracy. Marnie sighed and joined her date in surveillance of the movie, glancing around at the youthful couples that littered the dimly lit, somewhat scruffily furnished theatre. In one last final attempt to direct Kyle’s engrossed attention, she planted a slight kiss on his cheek. The embrace seemed to send a tingling jolt of electricity through Marnie’s body, her sensations counteracted by Shadow’s. Lovingly they looked at one another, hoping the other was experiencing the same as they were. In a more relaxed tone the duet settled back to the movie, a grin across one another’s face.

Steven scurried alone across the cobbled pathway leading from the garage to the main building of the Red Court’s mansion. He’d recently departed from ShockWave, who had business to attend to. “She’s the type of noble and justified person we could do with a round here,” Steven said to himself, a smirk crossing his face. Suddenly a strong breeze ruffled his heavy black trench coat. Rain pelted down from the skies with wrathful vengeance, the strong, gale-like winds trying in vain to upturn and attack the Red mansion.

“Seems like a storm’s on the way, my Grace,” the doorman said as he retrieved the soaked coat from the Red Bishop’s body. Steven smiled politely, and breezed past him into his office. He guessed that the letter he sent to the White…ummm…. associate had reached its destination already. It was uncertain why someone would name themselves such a vulgar and degrading name, but Steven didn’t dwell on WHC policies. Telekinetically he levitated about seven inches from the ground allowing the maids to continue hovering the velvety soft carpet of the hallway. Steven entered his office and began to do a brief telepathic scan for his personal assistant Charles. He wasn’t in the building.

With a sigh, the Red Bishop proceeded to his desk, telekinetically starting up the music system, that began to churn out the delicate music of charlotte Church. Steven hummed along to the words as he took his place behind the large, domineering desk. He filed all his loose papers into one pile together, and commenced to search through his mail. A quick glance at the antique pocket watch that dangled from within his blazer pocket told him it was eight thirty three. Almost time for his airline company’s party. Since buying Airtours, Steven’s wealth seemed to have been spiralling upwards, but in the wake of certain events, he was doubtful in the existence of the business any longer.

Suddenly a very elaborate letter caught his eye. It was bound in a blue, quilted envelope and had the most decorative golden writing on the front of it. With a certain hesitation Steven opened the padded letter. As his finger violently popped open the sheath of the letter, a very intricately sewn in badge fell from the package.

Steven’s eyes narrowed in on it, his face suddenly becoming chalky white, whiter than the purest snow. He grasped the pain that erupted in his heart and stumbled backwards, propping himself against the strong Greek pillars that surrounded each window in his office. He levitated the sash over to him, and suddenly his stomach began to churn with…fear. “This can’t be,” he whispered in rasped, hoarse breaths, shaking his head violently. He quickly send a mental probe around the mansion to see who was present. Immediately he activated the security button; unleashing the full defences of the Red Court upon the mansion. He looked one lasts time at the badge. It was a royal blue ‘H’ on a purple background with the words ‘Blue is Antwerp’ sewn in in gold letters. RKB clutched the sash and teleported out of the room into the crowded corridor.

The servants were all alarmed at the sudden defensive appearance of the mansion. “Don’t worry,” Steven said in a less that convincing voice, “it’s just a security check up.” With that he raced at a hurried pace across the mansion, finally arriving at the Red King’s office door. He didn’t bother to alarm the King of his arrival telepathically or even with a courteous knock. He merely burst into the room, finding Ryan behind a desk. “How can I help you?” Ryan said in a cheerful tone that descended as he saw the look of fear in the Red Bishop’s face. Steven was a ma of hidden emotions, tough as nails, firm as steel. Nothing panicked him. But the look in his eyes frightened even the mighty Red King.

Steven tried three times to speak, but fear erupted from his mouth blocking his vocal release. Finally he began to speak, “Get everyone here now, hellions, general Members and everyone else! We are all in the up most danger.” Ryan looked simply at the Red bishop, uncertain whether to heed his warning. Then he noticed the security had been but on high alert. Steven wasn’t joking. Something big must have shaken him up. “Right, I’ll do that straight away,” Ryan, said as he hurried off out of his room, followed by the Red bishop. Please don’t be too late Steven said to himself as he headed into the War Room.

“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” Marnie Fox said, leaning on Kyle’s arm as the couple proceeded from the theatre, into the bustling Las Vegas streets. The Red Rook was still struck by the dazzling lights that Vegas happily beamed upon people. The whole town seemed to seep with life and happiness, opportunity and prosperity.

Kyle smirked slightly. “Julia Roberts sure was hot!” he exclaimed. Marnie looked daggers at him.

“Well, if you like trashy bimbos, I suppose. I thought you had more taste Mr. Eccleston, but it seems I was mistake.” Marnie made a loud, disapproving sniff and turned her head away from him. Kyle looked somewhat hurt by his date’s response. Date. It felt so strange to be doing something normal. Buying a CD, sharing pizza with a friend, taking a beautiful girl to the movies…. that was normal. Not fighting for your life against an enemy who hates and despises you, or having your soul corrupted by black magic.

Kyle wrapped his arms around Marnie, smiling wickedly at her. Pulling her closer he began to kiss her when both were stunned by the invading psionic presence. “You two, get to the mansion NOW!” RKB’s firm voice shouted in their heads, before quickly departing.
“I wonder what’s got the little dude so upset,” Marnie said as she followed Shadow into a portal he’d just opened.

Tantalising music charmed around the heaving restaurant; vainly piercing the clattering of cutlery and the soft humming of conversation. The invigorating smell of expensive perfume lingered in the demanding atmosphere. “This is a wonderful place,” Stephanie Macgraff said as she disregarded a straying strand of silky brown hair over her shoulder, slightly adjusted the horn rimmed glasses that laid carefully on the end of her nose. Ian Fitzroy smiled shyly, out stretching his friend’s chair, calmly inviting her to take a seat.

“Mr Booth recommended this place to me,” Ian said as he seated himself, and ordered two menus. He took a long staring gaze at his date. She had the most delicate frame he’d ever seen, her emerald green dress, trimmed with elegant grey fur around the collar clung to her angelic frame carefully, sliding into every nook and cranny like a second skin. Waves of silky brown hair flowed from her head, nestling carefully behind her shoulders. In the dimly lit restaurant, her turquoise eyes glimmered behind those intellectual looking glasses.

“So how long have you worked for Mr Booth then?” Ian asked as he removed his eyes from her physique, and began to scan through the menu.

Stephanie gave a quiet, reserved laugh. “I used to work for Steven in Airtours, but I found out I was a mutant, and basically went mad. Everything I touched wouldn’t stop exploding. I was almost ready to quit being secretary, thinking that me being a mutant could endanger the name of Airtours, and put it bottom of the airline companies. But then Steven approached me one night and told me about being a mutant and his research facilities. He admitted me to the Texas branch, and slowly I learned control. Eventually, Steven offered me a job as a nurse at the Texas branch and I happily said yes. I also know about the Hellfire Club. So, how’d you meet Steven?” She took a quick drink of her vintage wine, licking her lips as she did, savouring the exquisite liquid as it swirled around in her crystal tumbler. Then she shot Ina a melting, warm glance, inviting him to speak.

Ian shifted awkwardly in his seat. Everything about Stephanie seemed to have metamorphed in the last few minutes. She seemed so shy, so quiet and placid at work, hiding gently behind her large bureau. But the way she looked, her evidently proud body language and her eyes…. she seemed so much more confidant and stronger than when he first met her. “I’ve been friends with Steven ever since he found me when I was fifteen. I’d just developed my powers, and it was really hard on me too. My parents ignored me, pretended I wasn’t different. But then one day Steven turned up, and my parent’s let him take me to the private boarding school for mutants he run. And ever since, I’ve always been by his side, so to speak, and I am also a Hellfire Club member. But mainly I just keep an eye on Steven’s private mutant research centres, his private schools and hospitals, his airline and cruise liner company and his shipping company. Not to mention his upcoming pharmaceutical company, Composites Company.” Ian signalled for the waiter to come to the table, placing his leather bound menu down flat.

“Hello Sir, Madame, can I please take your order?” the waiter said, his squeaky, high-pitched voice adding to his youthful look. Not to mention his platinum blonde hair, which he kept on brushing from his eyes, giving him even more youthful look.

“To start I’d like melon, then for main course, lamb cooked fairly well, in the most expensive red wine you have, with all the trimmings. As for desert…. I’ll have the chocolate gateau,” Ian said, somewhat licking his lips as he imagined the succulent meal he would soon be presented with.

“Excellent choice, sir, and for you Madame?” the waiter said as he scribbled carelessly onto his pad, silently scorning the large appetite he’d been addressed with. Just as Stephanie began to speak, her mouth fell shut, as did her eyes. Silently she slumped in her chair, followed closely by the rest of the assemblage. Ian rose defensively from his chair, scanning the room meticulously. A twinge grasped his head, making him stand still, trying to fight the pain.

”Cease this struggling, my friend,” the oily, lethargic voice of RKB said within his head, “step through the portal I am sending. It is urgent that you get to the mansion NOW! And don’t worry, everyone’s temporarily sleeping, and Stephanie will think you were called away on business.” Obediently, the Red Hellion thrust his body through he portal, as he began to curse about messing his meal.

Steven paced impatiently around the Red King’s office, wiping his sweat-ridden forehead. “Where is everyone?” he screamed ending his bony fists smashing onto the King’s desk, sending several things rumbling around the structure. ShockWave gave Chastity a concerned look, the Red Queen merely shrugging her off. What is her problem Chastity said to herself she not even a member of THIS court. Suddenly the fantastic tapestries that lined the official office of the Red King were emerged in black, thick, swirling smoke as Kyle Eccleston, also known as Red Hellion Shadow, and Marnie Fox, Red Rook, ascended from them.

“It’s about time you two turned up,” Daemon Darkholme said as he leaned lazily against the mantle piece of the roaring fire that illuminated the luxurious room. From across the room, Spark, Epyon, Morte, Lark and Salvatore all stood in their red uniforms, each one clinging to their physique perfectly. Without warning, Ian Fitzroy toppled through a portal, directing from the far side of the long office.

“Alas, you are all here, and probably wondering why I’ve called you all here so suddenly,” RKB said, as he peered suspiciously out of the blinds. Raising his index fingers to his temples, the Red Bishop began to emit a powerful psionic scan, which drifted through the assembled members of the IHFC, racking through each one with a slight twist of pain. Then he immediately allowed his arms to fall to his side and turned his attention to them all. “I apologise for my psychic interruptions, but I must be sure that none of you have already fallen slave to the menace that has decided to rekindle itself from the ashes of my past.”

A wave of uncertainty wafted through the air, drifting from one member to the next. Everyone’s eyes fixated upon the frail looking man standing nervously in the middle of the room. “I have a slight confession to make to you,” Steven said as he straightened his necktie, fingering the expensive material tensely. “About 1898, I think I’d been Black King of the Northern Hellfire Club of England for about ten years. A very rich landowner, coming from Antwerp, approached the Club and me. He was the silent Blue King of Antwerp. For those of you, well most of you that aren’t aware, 500 years ago was the day the Hellfire Clubs nearly died. There were six branches to the Hellfire Club, the Secret Ones, and they got together on this day, just as the ancient grail foretold. The Black in London, The White in Paris, Red in Madrid, Grey in Rome, Blue in Antwerp, and the Green in Lisbon. Then the bombs in each Court went off. The Greens and Blue were closest to the bombs, none of them made it out, and the others were hit very hard.”

Chastity began to speak in her informative, business-like voice. “I know of this, I believe this was the basis of the formation of the Grey Court.” A smug, victorious smile crept across her beautiful face.

Steven shot her a piercing, burning look that seemed to pass through her violently. “Don’t speak to me like some blind fool,” the Red Bishop spat, his deathly icy eyes growing wider and wider, “I am over a century and a half old. I know more about this world than you could even dream about.” Chastity opened her mouth to defend herself, before Ryan shot her a calming look.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Steven said in a shrill, metallic voice, “the Blues were heavily hit.” He took a quick pause, shifting his glasses nervously from his face. “It must have been about my sixth year as Black King of the Northern Hellfire Club,” Steven began, “I was approached by Lord Isambard of Antwerp, a very powerful industrialist. He wanted to recruit me for the Blue Hellfire Club of Antwerp that hadn’t exactly been dominating the face of the planet. They’d been moving around, observing us all and finally choosing a time to reveal their existence. Anyway, he asked me to be Blue Bishop. I violently refused, but finally I said I’d dual member with the Clubs, and was made Blue Bishop. It didn’t involve much until they demanded that I assimilate the Northern Hellfire Club into the Antwerp branch. I basically laughed din their faces, but I seriously under-estimated their power. They attacked the Club on several occasions, and despite how much I denied it, I did relocate the Club because of them. But before I went, Isambard, and External, gave me this letter: What does it prophet a man, to gain the world, at the cost of his soul? Blue is Antwerp, and the blood of her enemies will stream the streets, and no mercy shall be shown to disbelievers.

Steven sifted his weight from one leg to the other, straightening his tie and adjusting his attire. Never before had the Red Bishop been so nervous. “Earlier today I received the seal of a marked man from Antwerp, the sign that soon someone will be sent to assassinate me, and all those who have dishonoured the Hellfire Clubs. I fear that the war the may rage will also attack you all.”

An eerily silence drafted across the room; the atmosphere thick enough to slice. Finally the delicate silence began to crumble under the powerful voice of the authorative Red King. “No matter what lies ahead, the Hellfire Club shall not abandon you. We shall stand firm.”

Alien forms of straying slight wandered monotonously across the dimly lit room; casting evil, twisted and sinister shadows around the chamber. The candle that tried to illuminate the domineeringly dark room flickered in the breeze that wafted across the damp and indistinguishable darkness. “This won’t do,” a hoarse, twisted voice said as he re-arranged his boots, making a heavy thumping noise on the large oak desk, “you truly do have a backbone revealing all our secrets. But don’t worry, Blue Bishop, you days, your hours, your minutes are numbered. As are the idiotic examples of Hellfire Clubs you flaunt. For today, the mighty wrath of the ancient Clubs shall be felt, and your debt will be paid in blood, as we restore the Clubs back to their former glory.” And with that, Joseph Ryan clicked his fingers, allowing him to materialise from the wooden chair in which he was seated.

One upon a time, in a far away land.

A millennium and a half ago in England to be precise.

A once-great king was falling from grace—and taking his shining kingdom down with him. And not even his magical sword could slow his descent. While the kingdom was great, the king was loved. He led his people on great quests, both personal and public (such as the Holy Quest for the Holy Grail).

Sadly, when a kingdom is so high, it can fall all the longer—building up great force until it collides against the Pit itself, shattering into a million shards of good intentions.

As the hungry common people began to chatter of rebellion against the king, a small group of nobles and wealthy businessmen held a clandestine meeting to discuss the fate of the shining kingdom. It was agreed that the great fall was due to the lack of control they held over the king.

Vowing that they and their progeny would be the cornerstone and the foundation of all great governments to ever come, they plotted on how to seize control of the known-world without revealing their existence.

Creating an organization of wealth, power, and aristocracy, they hid themselves amongst others with similar desires for power and order, while at the same time manoeuvring themselves into a central position from where they could reign unchallenged and unknown.

However, the covert organization had not planned as well as they had believed. Unknown to most members, some founders were not what they seemed. They were something more than human. With powers un-dreamt of by mortal men.

Soon, this secret society decided that to truly thrive, the falling king (who was still the best hope the world had) had to die. So they sent in the king’s own bastard son to commit the murder. The resulting age was chaotic and violent. And any chance a king had for gaining control was to be found in an alliance—subservience—to this group of men and women.

Fortunately, the side of good was not without its own extra-powerful defender. Although now alone and unable to thwart the will of the secret group, a great and powerful wizard quickly rescued the magic sword from the grasp of his dying monarch, and threw the instrument into an abyss. The wizard then went into hiding, waiting for the inevitable births of those that will have the power to oppose the operations of the group. Someday he would have an army. And someday, when the world’s greatest need was manifest, the Ascended One would come to lead the army to victory.

Throughout the following centuries, the covert organization has guided and condemned governments and businesses around the world. Behind nearly every great accomplishment, stand the secret ones. And behind every great tragedy, there they will also be.

They have been called by many different names by many different peoples, but to themselves they are called the Inner Circle of the HellFire Club.

Steven wandered helplessly around the mansion; his elderly body trembling in the stifling cold breeze that began to float around the mansion. In the distance, the grandfather clock chimed as the hour approached three in the morning. The Red Bishop sighed heavily. Insomnia is something he’d learned to love with in the 154 years he’d been alive. 154. It sounds so long, so ancient. To those who aren’t cursed with a life that has no end, 154 years old is nothing but a blessing. Something they can only dream of. But to the unfortunate people that are marked with semi-immortality, it is nothing but a disastrous reminder of how they can never leave this world, and return to those who they’ve lost over the years.

“So much has happened in my existence, “ RKB said as he levitated into the kitchen, telekinetically triggering the switch on the kettle. “There has been so much disaster, so much turmoil and death. So many in desperate need of my help, but they die and fade away before I can assist them. So many medical and political challenges for me to bulldoze. But how can one man with a mallet, destroy such a towering challenge?” Steven shook his head, sending his skeletal fingers through his icy white hair, purer than any kind of snow. Half-heartedly he aroused his telepathy, closing shut his eyelids.

Beneath the flaps of skin his eyes rolled and revolved busily, his mind dancing around the mansion like tongues of flames hungrily consuming anything in their destructive path. Those flames were so much like the telepathic might of the Red Bishop. He alone stood unchallenged as the most psionically gifted and strongest psion on the planet, surpassing everyone that lived. He was the kind of telepath the other telepaths feared. But even he had weaknesses. Trapped in a crippled, withered old body that could barely contain him, he would never be able to reach his ultimate power.

The faint whistling of the climaxing kettle jolted the Red Bishop from his thoughts. Lethargically he crossed the kitchen and placed the steaming water into a teacup, stirring the bag and water together. A quick telepathic bolt suddenly passed through his body, alerting him of a nearby presence.

“Good morning,” Steven said, as he looked past the Red Queen, averting his attention from her. Casually he levitated across the room, brushing past the Queen and into the corridor. “Your being too hard on yourself,” Chastity said in a leveled, calm tone, “you are always the first to note the bad things you’ve accomplished. But you never acknowledge all the good you have done.”

Steven stopped abruptly, spinning around to make eye contact with the Red Queen. His gaze could phase and intimidate almost anything, but it had not affect on the Red Queen. He noticed how strong, how independent Chastity had grown since her short time with the Red Court. It seemed only yesterday she came through the doors to her initiation party as a General Member. And within weeks, he was welcoming her to the ranks of the Hellions. Then, within mere days, she was promoted to Rook. It was almost impossible for someone to ascend through the ranks. That is something Steven had never experienced. He barely ever had to fight for his title. Black Rook of the Northern hellfire Club of England was handed to him at birth, and in next to no time, title as Black King. Then he joined the IHFC, and was immediately made Knight. The only title he battled for the Bishop. But he overcame it easily. But Chastity had fought her way through the ranks with hard work; using her charm and positive attitude to be crowned Red Queen

“Steven, you’ve given the International Hellfire Club a pulse, a purpose. You have given hope to so many people, as a teacher, doctor, and politician, Bishop, Knight or mentor. So many owe you’re their life, and you are truly a man of many wonders.” Chastity took a deep breath, emitting a stale silence between the two Inner Circle members.

“Thank you,” Steven said in a choky, raspy voice, and a smile spreading across his face. Chastity gave him a friendly wink, before teleporting away. The Red Bishop walked back to his room, a pleased smile on his face.

“Nathan?” Steven said into the receiver of his antique telephone. There was a muffled sense of astonishment on the other side of the line.

“Mental Rogue?” Nathan Perkins, also known as Paradox said in a groggy voice, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He suddenly shot upright in his bed.

“Calm down,” Steven said, his empathic powers picking up Paradox’s sudden state of shock, “and I must apologise for my late interruptions.” Steven pulled a pocket watch from his blue silken dressing gown. In the dim light being emanated from his desk lamp, the timepiece declared four minutes past three. Perhaps I should have waited until the morning he said to himself.

“So, what did you want?” Paradox said rudely, anger in his voice. He knew a call from Mental Rogue, Red Bishop of the infamous Las Vegas Hellfire Club was always something leading upto trouble.

“I see you haven’t lost your complete lack of manners,” RKB sniffed arrogantly down the phone, as his hand shot to his face adjusting his spectacles. “Who said I wanted anything?”

Paradox began to laugh sarcastically down the receiver. “I can’t ever remember you telephoning me for a friendly chat, tea and biscuits before,” the former Black Upstart scoffed as he dragged his body out of his untidy bed and headed across his littered apartment. “Cut to the chase,” he said, as he took a quick sniff of the milk he took from the refrigerator. It was so stale; the odour almost knocked him off his feet.

A smile tried to creep across the fragile face of the Red Bishop. “My reputation precedes me,” he chuckled. Then his tone became more serious. “I have an assignment for you to do, since you’ve been very idle lately.”

Paradox rolled his eyes violently, his arms wanting to grab the Red Bishop’s scrawny neck and choke him to death. If he would have thought espionage was this demanding, he would have dropped it.

“Like you dropped your status in the BHC?” RKB said sharply, his voice level and emotionless.

Nathan’s eyes widened in anger. “If you read my mind again without asking me, I’ll kick your…”

“Now now, no need for gutter language,” Steven said, “concentrate on the mission ahead. I want you to follow me for the next few days, and look out for a man called Joseph Ryan. If he gets anywhere near me alert me. I’ll fax over the photo of him in the morning.”

“Why can’t you just telepathically locate him?” Paradox said, as he crawled back into bed; the warmth of the bed sheets invigorating him.

“Don’t question my authority, after all I pay your wages. Let’s just say, he has ways of evading my telepathic probes,” Steven said as he rose from his desk chair and fiddled with the control panel on the wall. In the distance he could hear his indoor fountain churn to life; the trickling of the water and the dimly lit ceiling lights giving his office a more welcoming and relaxing feel. Telekinetically, he threw another log on the already roaring fire and then laid down on the chairs longe near the conflagration.

“Okay master,” Paradox said in a patronising tone, “your will is my command.” And with that, he hung up the telephone.

“Take that Joseph,” RKB said to himself, as he caressed a framed photograph of himself and his former friend in his hands, “now I have cover. I know everywhere I go you’ll be hot on my heals, but I’m ready for you. You’ve caused too much uproar and sadness in my life. But don’t worry, it all ends soon.” Steven suddenly shot from his feet and forcefully threw the photo into the blaze; watching as the flames devoured it and wiped it from existence.

”Quite the little speech maker,” Ozyranian Kine said, as he took a swift drink of his champagne, looking pensively at the viewing globe in front of him, “Bargh, he makes me physically sick!” he clicked his mystical fingers, and the orb disappeared a cloud of burgundy smoke.

“Now, now, my Knight,” Isambard Lent said, looking over the room from his elegant throne where several skimpily dressed servant girls attended to his every wish, “you should feel more respect towards our Bishop.” He stood up; his athletic physique, pure blonde hair and aquatic eyes giving him the most picturesque look. The looks fit for a King. His deep green eyes suddenly flared red and his whole body glowed with a radiant white light. Abruptly, he appeared by the side of a beautiful lady, playing chess at a table on her own.

“Bishop?” Paris Witchester shrieked, tossing a straying strand of her silky black hair over her shoulder, “that person down there is not fit for such an honour. As Blue Rook, I declare him unfit!” She moved a pawn forward one diagonal space and took an opposing bishop. Seeing she had left her King open to checkmate, the Blue Rook’s temper flared, as did her right index finger, sending a bolt of energy into the chess set, phasing it upon impact.

The sound of disapproving tutting came from across the room. Behind the piano, Bethany Beaura, the Blue Queen, tantalised the room with elegant music, her fingers passing over the keys in a hypnotic dance. “My Rook, you presume to much,” she hissed, “for soon, Steven Booth will take his place among our numbers, or die. The events shall slide together like a carefully played game of chess. Something you should revise, my dear.”

“If my opinion means anything,” Ralph ransom, the Blue pawn said in his Egyptian voice, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, “in the future I see nothing but toil and misery for our Club, this could be a result of re-initiating the Blue Bishop.”

From the far end of the luxuriously designed boardroom, the lush purple drapes that hugged and guarded the windows aroused violently, announcing the arrival of a guest.

“Antwerp is so lovely at night,” Joseph Ryan said as he slid through he purple drapes and teleported beside the Blue King’s throne; selecting some grapes from a bunch and popping the into his mouth, “any news about that treacherous snake?”

Paris smiled widely at the former White king; her heart beating ever so faster in her chest. His proud, masculine physique, barely contained in the expensive, tailored business suit he wore, made her eyes wander around his body. The golden hair that graced his head shimmered in the strong lighting of the room. I wish I wasn’t so young she cursed to herself, her eyes hungrily observing Joseph.

“Greetings,” Isambard said, shaking Joseph’s hand as he ascended behind him in a trail of white light. The Blue King then turned and addressed the Inner Circle. “As you are aware, we take back our birth right, and Antwerp shall become the strong hold of Hellfire Club that it was five hundred years ago. And the Red Bishop shall either kneel before the feet of Antwerp, or feel her mighty wrath. And if he is such a fool as to reject our offer, then Joseph Ryan will be made our Bishop. A trial of combat will commence soon, between the Red Bishop and his former assistant King of the Beverley Hills Hellfire Club. So, I say to you now, take the next few hours for rest and peace. For tomorrow, the day of judgement shall arrive.”

Chastity slipped through the shadily lit corridors of the Inner Circle’s bedchambers with ease, her agility and sleekness resembling that of a panther. The distant sound of footprints caused the Red Queen to phase herself into the wall, ready to attack anyone who shouldn’t have been in the hallways. To her relief it was her elder brother, the Red Knight, dragging himself in after a night out. It’s ten minutes past three! Chastity said to herself, where has he been for so long? And who’s that Slutty blonde haired woman he’s brought home with him. Ooo, him and me are gonna have some serious words in the morning. When she was sure that Daemon and his lady friend had concealed themselves in his bedchamber, she teleported into the Red King’s room, solidifying herself on his head, just below his feet. With a wicked grin on her face, the Red Queen sent a low current of electricity through the Red King’s body, dragging him from his peaceful slumber.

“Chastity, my dear,” he said as he went to grab her, a seductive smile spread across his face in a toothy grin, “so nice to see you.” The Red Queen pushed away his advancing arms and stood up, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ryan slid out of bed and into a red towelling robe, concealing his nakedness. Even in the simple robe, Chastity couldn’t help but think how good Ryan looked. Good enough to eat she mused to herself. Then the task that she had come her to perform slid into her mind. She crossed the room, magically lighting all the lights as she did, signalling the King to follow her. Curiously, the Red King followed his femme fatale.

“I believe the time is at hand,” Chastity said as she opened up a wormhole and pulled out a very familiar cane. It was decked with several precious jewels around its titanium frame, then atop of it laid a red and blue ruby. It was the Red Bishop’s cane. “The power basin of the International Hellfire Club spreads wider and wider everyday,” the Red Queen said, lifting the cane above her head. A slight breeze began to draft through the exquisite room of the Red King. “And with such increases of power, come more and more opportunities and responsibilities. As you and I agreed, the IHFC must forge a channel through the rest of the Clubs, hence creating a secondary court, a Blue Court. Now, our avatar, the Red bishop, Steven booth, is ready for such a task.”

A powerful blast of energy fired from the tip of the cane, splitting up into many different colours that circled the walking stick. Finally they all grouped back together and forged their way into the ruby. And suddenly the blue and red colours began swirling together until they made a perfect purple ruby. The energy died down and the cane fell to the floor. Ryan quickly ran behind Chastity, and caught her in his arms.

“We decided on naming the Court, Blue,” Chastity said in a groan, “but Purple is such a more appropriate. I therefore think that soon we should coronate the Red Bishop as Purple King of the International Hellfire Club.” With that the Red Queen opened up another wormhole and sent the cane back into the Red bishop’s room. And then she fell asleep in her lover’s arms.

Ryan tenderly placed her on his bed and went over to his mini bar and poured himself a sifter of brandy. “It seems all my plans are coming together,” he said as he stared out of the window, his gaze dancing across the silent grounds of the IHFC estate.

Steven awoke violently from his nap, sliding off the chairs longe onto the velvety soft floor. “Ow!” he said as his body collided with the floor. He realised he had drifted off to sleep. "What time is it I wonder?” as he took his pocket watch from his robe. “I’ve only been to sleep for five minutes,” he sighed, as he levitated to his desk chair. He knew there was no chance of going back to sleep. Sliding his glasses onto his face, he decided to get a head start on grading the Academy’s tests. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his cane, given to him by Chastity only weeks earlier, lying debility on his favourite reading chair. “How odd,” he said as he walked over to retrieve it, “that’s should be in my wardrobe.” As he neared the cane he noticed the transformation atop of the ruby. It was no longer a red and blue ruby, but instead a purple ruby with a crown marking on the top. “How strange,” he said to himself as he headed out of the room in search for the Red Queen.