The Move *HF* by Steven Booth
“It’s so scary,” Charlotte Sometimes said as she walked arm in arm with Sharon Stokes, known to the Purple Hellfire Club as Blackfire, “everything is so different. I’m enjoying my work, but I am scared of slipping up.” The newly appointed Purple Queen’s unblemished white face looked wracked with concern.
Blackfire began to laugh loudly, patting her chest as she did so, her auburn trestles dancing around her head. “Char, don’t be so ridiculous,” she mumbled through her laughter, “you are doing an excellent job. Steven couldn’t be more pleased. Believe me, it’s scary having so much responsibility, I should know, but it suits you. You’re good at your job, popular with your Courtiers and a damn good person to be around.”
Colour flooded into the young Queen’s cheeks, making her usually chalky complexion become crimson and healthy looking. Absent-minded, she looked at her watch and immediately her eyes became wide with horror.
“What’s wrong?” Blackfire questioned, responding to the look of horror that had swept across her friend’s face.
“We’re late for the meeting!” Charlotte said as she began to break into a race along the corridors of the Purple Hellfire Club castle, dragging the resilient Enforcer of the Outer Circle with her, “Steven will kill us.”
Blackfire remembered about the meeting Steven had called only hours earlier. He said it was of paramount importance and that everyone should be there. Must be imperative if Steven had been so stern that everyone attends.
The two women ran at break neck speed down the hallways, weaving their way through the herds of servants that wandered the corridors. Just as the two girls rounded the corner into the Inner Circle quarters, they collided with a troop of military personnel that were doing their daily surveillance of the castle, sending the two of them sprawling across the velvety floor, knocking the soldier’s down like pins in a bowling alley. Trying to contain their laughter, the two burst open the heavy, intricately carved doors to the conference room, and were met with nine stony faced individuals, all sat behind the large oak desk, eyes fixed upon the two women.
“Sharon, Charlotte,” the Purple King said as he greeted the two women, “so lovely of you to make it. And only ten minutes late. Must be a new record!”
Charlotte, who fought vainly with her hair to stay in the well-groomed position she had it earlier began to talk. “Well, it’s like this. We were going over the… er..”
“Mail!” Blackfire interrupted.
“Yeah, mail,” Charlotte continued, “and we were so enthralled in it, and then our paperwork that we totally lost track of time and..”
“Liars,” Morte muttered under her breath, a mischievous toothy grin spreading across her face. As usual, the Purple Rook’s attire was jet black; a black tank top that cut just a little too far down her chest, a knee high skirt with fish neck stockings and a pair of thick, calf high boots, matching her silky hair.
Blackfire stared daggers at Morte, who bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Whatever,” Steven said, “now take your seats so this meeting can begin.”
“You’re in trouble,” Toby said as Charlotte slipped into the seat next to her. The Purple Queen smiled widely, staring menacingly at the King. “Nah, don’t worry, I’m tougher than him!”
The Assassin began to laugh before she was silenced by a meaningful glare from Steven. Immediately, the room fell silent.
“Now that we are free of distractions,” he declared loudly, staring at Blackfire and then at Charlotte, “I would like to start the meeting. For the record, the present members of the Purple Hellfire Club are:
Myself, Steven, the Purple King, Charlotte Sometimes, the Purple Queen, Xeus, the Purple Bishop, Epyon, the Purple Knight, Morte, the Purple Rook, Blackfire, the Purple Enforcer, Shadow, the Purple Prince, Storm, the Purple Princess, Ian Fitzroy, the Purple Advisor, Salvanza, the Purple Paladin and Toby, the Purple Assassin. Right, now the time is 12:12 and the date, 23rd April, 2002. Allow us to proceed.”
The King looked around the room. He was met with a few stares of questioning. It was time to tell them. “I recently attended the funeral of the Queen Mother of England,” he declared, “and whilst I was back home I realised how much I missed England. I even went up to my old ancestral castle in Burnley and ever since I have been feeling emotions of longing. Longing for my homeland. Now, it may seem a little selfish, or a little silly, but I think if we relocated the Purple Hellfire Club to Burnley it would be beneficial all around. England only has one Hellfire Club, and that’s in the South, and we could reopen the PHC in the North. The power basin would grow like mad. There is a strong economy and market over in England, and I have strong feelings that moving there would further increase the productivity of the Purple hellfire Club. Comments?”
There was an uneasy silence throughout the room. Finally, Charlotte began to speak. “I think it’s a great idea. I love England, and anything is better than here, with all this evil sunshine and hot weather.”
Steven smiled. Morte began to speak. “Can I hear a second on that? I’m in! England always seemed so cool, and Jamaica is okay, but I still hate it here.”
“From what I remember from when you took us to your castle on summer holidays as a child,” Ian said, “it seems a great place. I’m in.”
“Me too,” Xeus said, “I mean Jamaica is great, but there can be such things as having too much paradise.”
Steven’s smile almost engulfed his whole face as the members of the PHC all consorted to the move. “It’s great that you all share my enthusiasm,” the Purple King declared, “work has already begun constructing a mansion nearby for our students. It will act as a boarding house and school them. And I have faxed in photographs of all your rooms so they can be reconstructed in my castle. But, before we proceed any further, I must confess something.”
Everyone’s eyes fixed on the Purple King. Many of them with furrowed brows. What could the Purple King possibly have to confess? Steven began to speak. “As many of you know, I am a member of the Royal Family of England and a nobleman. But the extent of this is hidden to you ll. Well, you see my father, Irvan, was the eldest brother to Queen Victoria and crowed King Stephen II. But he found out he was a mutant and abdicated when I was fourteen. I happily took the throne as King SteVen III, but when I started to manifest signs of mutancy, my father and aunt persuaded me to allow Victoria to be Queen and I was made Prince of Wales. And then, as I discovered I was External, I had to invent heirs for me, so when I ‘died’, my ‘heirs’ would inherit my status. It was basically to stop people getting suspicious. But with every generation I created, the claim to the throne was getting wider and wider and wider. And lately, I have been looking at the Royal Family, and I am quite appalled. They have let their power basin slip and there are too many ‘hanger oners’. So I spoke with the Queen, and threatened to go public about my mutancy and my claim to the throne. This of course is scandalous, so she persuaded me not to by giving me the titles of Earl of Wessex and Lord of Lancaster, titles I already hold, and the titles of Prince of Cumbria and Duke of Westminster. And to top all of this off, I am not 156. I am indeed 178. I lied so that if any of you ever became suspicious, the dates wouldn’t add up.”
“Oh my…” Morte muttered, “you were actually King of England. Really? I mean no joke?”
Steven smiled. “For nine years.”
“Cool,” Toby interrupted, “we have a real King for a King if you know what I mean. Did you get to wear the fancy crown?”
The Purple King laughed. “At my coronation I did. Anyway, I hope you will all forgive me for my secrecy, but it wasn’t meant maliciously. So, are we all England bound?”
“Well duh!” Charlotte said jokingly as she rose from her seat and headed for the door, “now let’s call an end to this meeting. We have some valuable packing to do!”
