Scenes: *HF* Parts I-VI
By Mufasa
Scenes: Part I
University of Southern Florida – Tampa
“…and by teaching the brain to carry out the process of neural construction – not only itself, but the rest of the central nervous system – this process will hopefully open new pathways, not only for victims of Bells Palsy, but paralysis, strokes, Parkinsons, and other neurologically based diseases…”
“Forgive me for interrupting, Dr. Torres, but we should be wrapping up pretty soon.”
Angelo Torres nodded toward his colleague – Dr. Troy Jenkins – and continued to wrap up his paper. “This brand of neurology is just beginning to open up. I encourage some of you medical majors in this very room to consider that as a possible direction in your future studies. Thank you.”
The lecture immediately broke out into applause. With a smile, Angelo turned to greet them. In a way, this was more what he had anticipated himself doing at one time before fate would lead him to the steps of the Hellfire Club. He had no regrets, though. He liked what he was doing. He liked the people he was with. With a smile, he ran his hand through the mass of stringy brown hair before he turned toward the class.
“Thank you very much, Angelo, for delivering a cursory overview to this new and exciting field. For any of you interested in discussing your work or your future with Dr. Torres, there are 20 minute slots for meetings starting from 9:00 A.M. tomorrow and ending at 1:00. Then, Dr. Torres must be on his way back to New York. Please work on your papers and have them ready for tomorrow.”
As the class adjourned, Dr. Jenkins walked up to Angelo, excitedly shaking his hand. “Great work, Doctor. I thought the ol’ Puerto Rican prodigy had lost his lecture chops.”
“No, not the chops… but a taste for the life altogether.”
“You should consider returning to the academic circles. Your research is particularly…”
“No,” Angelo said. “I’m doing fine just where I am. And…” he found his concentration interrupted by a sound, much like that of a human chainsaw coming from the middle of the lecture hall.
Dr. Jenkins sighed and glanced over toward the source of it. From their position, all they saw was the back of a closely-cropped head and a darkened arm hanging over the edge of the desk. “Believe it or not, Dr. Torres, up there is one of our most promising students. Well… theoretically, anyway. Sharp mind…” he said, closing the distance. The frustrated man shook the sleeping student awake, addressing him with a lowered pitch. “Mr. Edwards?”
“Huherwha?!” the startled student jumped in his seat, scattering his books around the floor again.
“I don’t mind should you decide to sleep in my class after working third shift again, but would you please be so kind as to not snore?” He gestured behind him. “Since I know you probably spent the entire lecture in dream land, I would like for you to meet Dr. Angelo Torres.”
Jermaine Edwards extended his hand, which the doctor gladly took with a strong firm shake. “Nice to meet you…” he said, his voice trailing off. He got flashes, suddenly. He was restrained inside some sort of field, grabbing the sides of his stomach… a slave… to the full moon? He howled as the claws tore through his fingertips… Abruptly, Jermaine ripped his hand off of Angelo’s. “Sorry… excuse me… I’m a little… under the weather.”
“No problem, Mr. Edwards,” Angelo said. “You might want to make an appointment with me to discuss your work.” He checked the clock on the opposite wall of the lecture room. “If you’ll excuse me, Troy… and Mr. Edwards… I have to make a quick phone call and then catch a bite to eat. Dr. Anthony is supposed to be meeting me at 3:00 today.”
“Understandable, Angelo,” Dr. Jenkins said. He then turned back to his young protégé. “Mr. Edwards… We already had this discussion. I don’t expect to be dealing with this again.”
Jermaine nodded, his attention being more or less focused on the guest lecturer as he left. Although his common sense said not to do it, he decided that was something he HAD to check out…
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BHC – Tennis Courts
“So, Nebs… You’re the White Queen, now. Does that mean we are supposed to hate each other?” Rogue asked, serving the tennis ball.
“Given the past history of the courts, I guess that is what we are supposed to do.” She answered, returning the ball over the net. “Between you and me, though, the tennis court is the only place I feel like hating you.”
“Why would you say that?” Rogue said, lobbing the ball back over with a swing behind her back.
“Show-off,” Nebula grumbled, dashing across her side to get the ball. Between the two of them, Rogue was by far the better tennis player. Nebula, on the other hand, was the one known for looking the better when they were on the court. It was really just Nebula’s style, though. She did not go anywhere looking cheap. Wal-Mart? As if! “You know what I want to hear about… What went on with Justin and Rhiannon!”
“Well, we had a visit from a none-too-kind stranger named Rose (as told in Outburst’s story). Manipulative little bitch. Kind of a telepath,” Rogue answered, knocking the ball back on the side so Nebula would have to dash again. “She had her sights set on Justin… as well as MY spot. Don’t know what happened to the heifer, but she disappeared and fast. Not before she…”
“No! She didn’t!” Nebula said, the ball whizzing right past her. “No… Are you telling me…”
“Yes… I’m afraid so,” Rogue said. “Rose seduced Justin, with a bit of help of her psionic charms… Once Justin came back to his senses, he was a mess. He fully confessed to Rhiannon.”
“Aw shit… and knowing Rhiannon…”
“Well… I don’t know, yet. At the time, she just slapped him between the legs with her bow staff and went down to New Orleans for a few weeks. She got back today.”
Nebula nodded. “Surely, with Phantom with her, Rhiannon will have had time to think about it…”
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BHC – Outburst’s Suite
Her bed was the first thing to explode. Why? Because it was the nearest. Next, her bow staff crashed through her dresser mirror, raining shards of glass into the air. She swung it across, scattering everything to the floor. Momentarily, her eye caught on a picture… a picture of her, Justin, and Phantom toilet-papering Strong Towers. She reached down to pick it up and ripped it straight down the middle. The half of the picture with Justin on it, she charged and hurled it at her Heath Ledger poster.
Rhiannon…
She reached into her stash of pictures, grabbing them by the handful. Each one of them with Justin… With a green flash, they zipped across the room in scattered directions, blasting through the wall and the windows… anything she could see.
RHIANNON…
The cards… He gave them to her. The deck that she saved just so they could play Shag. Angrily, she charged the entire deck and threw it out the window so that it exploded at the base of the statue overlooking the courtyard.
She didn’t know why she did it… WHY she had returned from New Orleans early to deal with this. The entire purpose of going down there was to get over it… get over the betrayal. Now…
She glared in the shattered mirror, her eyes glaring at the long blonde tresses he had said he liked so much… that he jokingly promised to sneak by in the middle of the night to chop them off. She reached into her jacket, pulling out a single card and charged it and sneered. “Long blonde hair, huh? Guess you only like brunettes now. Fuck you!” She snapped the card across the lock in her hand. Cut off just above the shoulder. “You know, Justin… you can eat this fucking hair for all I care.”
Phantom watched Rhiannon LeBeau continue her tirade. He had tried to explain, but she got so worked up that she would not listen. With a sigh, his eyes watched the locks of blonde hair fall down to the ground, landing on top of the burning trenchcoat. Just as he was about to say something, he sensed a ripple on the astral plane… Of what? He didn’t know… but he figured the other telepaths would deal with it. For now, he was needed here.
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White Court - Grounds
The Chief Groundskeeper was the first one to see him. The man was so put off by what he saw that instead of watering the marigolds like he intended, he accidentally sprayed one of his workers in the face.
“CARL!” she screamed, using her hands to futilely block out the stream of water coming at her. When she saw what caught Carl’s attention, she forgot her anger and instead stared in disbelief as he passed… the water from the hose still landing in her face.
The guards stationed at the entrance both jumped when they saw him. The blonde one had forgotten to press the button to open the door and had to be prompted by the other guard. As soon as he passed on through the entrance, they stared at each other, not quite sure if they believed they had seen what they had just seen.
As he walked through the hallway, a few of the cafeteria workers dropped their trays, spilling food and utensils through the hall. One of the busboys who didn’t see what the commotion was about turned around and literally backed into one of the tables, knocking it over. Not noticing everyone’s reaction – or more accurately ignoring everyone’s reaction – he continued toward the kitchen, this time kicking the swinging door wide open as he walked in. The cooks all stopped what they were doing as he walked through, heading toward the back where the butcher was.
The butcher was about to slice some deli meat when he saw Khalid walk through the door. The knife in his hand dropped to the ground with a clang as Khalid cleared off one of the tables with a photon lion’s paw. With a growl, he laid a full-grown buck across the table.
“What the…”
At first, Khalid just growled but then with a white flash of his eyes, he snapped out of it. “He’s paralyzed. Don’t sweat it. I already talked to him. He knows he’s going to die. He can’t feel anything.” Khalid wrapped his hand under the buck’s head and jerked it across, snapping the neck with a sickening crack. For a moment, the butcher saw an energy discharge leave the deer passing into Khalid. “He’s dead now. All right… I don’t really care what you choose to do with the skin, the head, the balls, or the organs. That’s up to you. Anyway, cut up as much as you can right now and place it in the freezer. One of the prime ribs is going to be my lunch today. ”
“Um… er…” the butcher stammered. “How do you… want it… cooked?”
Khalid looked at him for a moment, saying nothing. “Cooked? Oh… Sorry. Run it through the defrost, warm it to room temperature, chunk it on a plate, and deliver it to my office with mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and a liter of water.”
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, HERE?!” came a voice from just outside the kitchen. The swinging door opened and the White Knight Ozymandias stepped inside. When he saw the recently-killed buck lying on the table, his gaze turned toward Khalid. “What the… how… who… wha…”
“Relax, Kane…” Khalid said. “Fine… fine… All right,” He turned back toward the butcher. “Make sure Kane gets a prime cut as well.” With a smile, he walked out of the kitchen.
Ozymandias and the butcher turned toward the buck and then finally toward each other, each shocked about what had just transpired. The butcher stammered at first, but finally spoke. “Um… er… will you be having yours… ‘a tartar’ as well?”
End Part I
Scenes: Part II
MCL Cafeteria – Tampa, FL
Jermaine watched him from the opposite side of the cafeteria. From what he had been able to look up on Angelo Torres on the internet, he seemed to be exactly what he said he was. Well published in journals. Everything was legit. By the way that everyone reacted toward him, the faculty at the medical school seemed to have a positive reaction toward him.
Jermaine, however, knew something different… courtesy of an inherited family psychic gift – the ability to see into souls. Dr. Torres was definitely MUCH more than he appeared to be. But… was he really a werewolf? With a smirk, Jermaine decided the best way to figure out the truth… but pretending he knew it.
“Hello, Dr. Torres…” Jermaine said, approaching him at his table.
“Mr. Sleepy-head,” Angelo cracked. He gestured toward the empty seat across from him. “I’m expecting someone for lunch any moment. So what made you decide to join me rather than tail me like you’ve been doing for the last hour?”
Jermaine leaned in closer and whispered. “I know what you are.”
“And… what am I?”
“You tell me,” Jermaine smiled.
“Let’s see…” Angelo said, reaching for a file folder next to him. With a smile, he tossed the file across the table to Jermaine and leaned back in his chair. “Black male… born and raised in Southern Florida… psychic ability that’s been passed down through the family… Failing out of medical school, because he’s trying to work a full-time job and a part-time job at the same time and sleeping in class… Oh yeah… and the mutant ability of psychokinetic transmorphing… usually taking the form of dust.” He stopped seeing the look of panic sweep across Jermaine’s face. “Sorry, Dusty… Guess that was you. Looks like your game didn’t work, did it?”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He shouted, glancing at the pictures… and files… and… “How the hell…”
“Sit down,” Angelo said. “I want you to meet a friend of mine.”
Jermaine turned around as someone came up.
“Hello, Mr. Edwards… My name is Casey Jones,” the man said, sitting next to him. “Perhaps right now, we need to talk about your situation…”
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Office of the White Rook
“Good grief,” Sharon Stokes said. “I can’t believe you are eating that.”
“Me either,” Khalid growled, ripping tearing off a piece of venison with his teeth. A mixture of blood and grease had started to dribble down his chin, but he had quickly wiped it up with a paper towel nearby. “That damn butcher ran it through the defrost too long… Fucking always got to cook it to death…”
Sharon sighed as she watched him eat for a few seconds. Right now, his manners were atrocious, growling at the table… eating the meat with his hands… well… not to mention that he was barely dressed at all… “Khalid, I’ve got a question… Have you noticed that you have… um… changed since your trip to Egypt?” (Shifting Sands)
“Changed?” Khalid asked, this time gnawing on a bone. For a moment, he growled and pulled before he set it down and reached for another rib. “How do you mean?”
“You’re eating your meat raw, for one thing…” she said. “You usually insisted that it was ‘cooked dead’ before…”
“Now, you’re mistaken,” Khalid said, shaking a half-eaten rib in his hand to emphasize his point as he ate. “I only eat hooved animals raw. Pork, poultry, fish… Better be cooked.” He blinked at that one. “Though… I guess I see your point…” he said, looking at the rib in his hand.
“You’re killing food with your bare hands.”
“Actually, I started doing THAT one shortly after last New Year’s Day,” Khalid said, resuming eating.
“You’re eating more. You sure your metabolism hasn’t sped up?”
“Not likely… I’m well over two-hundred pounds…”
“You’re just… Okay, here is the entire thing. Growling, hunting, bad table manners, loss of tact, sniffing people, playing with weapons, teasing the help… For the past week, the only thing you have worn… ANYWHERE… are shorts made of unstable molecules. People think you’re going to the beach or something!”
“No,” Khalid said, leaning back in his chair. For a moment, he placed both hands at the base of his neck. Sharon found herself extremely aware of just how large his chest really was and the effect the tattoos had on his appearance. The way he carried on was as if he were clueless of the effect… or just didn’t care. “I just got sick of being all suffocated. The weather’s too hot for that.”
Sharon shook her head. The guy didn’t have a clue. “When was the last time you saw Grover come to work wearing only a pair of swimming trunks? Or Nebula coming in a bikini?! I mean… You’re acting less and less like yourself and more like… like…”
“Mufasa?”
“EXACTLY!”
“I am Mufasa.”
“But you’re Khalid!”
“I’m Khalid, too… but I’m also Mufasa…” Khalid stopped, once more looking at the deer rib in his hand. “Though I admit… I don’t know what happened to the table manners. Both Khalid and Mufasa knew that one.”
“Khalid,” Sharon said with a sigh. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that right now, your self-restraint is lacking. You’ve got everyone on edge except for Gabe… and Maul, before he…”
“Maul ain’t dead.” (The Blood Feud)
“Khalid… He’s dead… and I think this behavior is your way of coping with his death.”
“Maul is not dead,” Khalid said again. “I didn’t sense his energy field pass on, so I don’t think he’s dead. He’s probably playing us for fools, knowing him.” Khalid stopped a moment, ripping the rest of the meat off the rib. “My ‘great-grandfather’ is at heart and soul a trickster… a foul-mouthed thug trickster, but a trickster. If anything, I know he’s still alive because I owe him a swift kick to the nuts.”
“Fine, Khalid… You can believe whatever you want to believe,” she said, dropping the subject. “Look… Gabe and I were looking at going to a steakhouse with my friend Camille and we thought…”
“No… Forget it,” Khalid growled. “Every girl you’ve tried to set me up with has been bad news.”
“Look… You aren’t getting anywhere with Asima, so I figured…”
“I said no. No way… uh uh… forget it… No how.”
“She’s a zoologist that specializes in lions.”
Khalid blinked… and then continued. “Forget it. Nuh uh… I’m not…”
Sharon showed him a picture. Next thing she heard was the low soft growl. Khalid, realizing how he was acting, snapped out of it and nodded. “Well… I suppose one more blind date can’t hurt.”
“Good… We’re having dinner at seven. Gabe’s going to go over a few things with you starting around five.”
“What?”
“Basically,” Sharon said, crossing her arms. “You’ve got to tone it down. Act more like Khalid and less like Mufasa…”
“They’re the same…”
She sighed. “I’ll talk to you later.” She walked toward the door, shaking her head. Gabe… your idea had best work…
End Part II
Scenes: Part III
Byron’s apartment
Safely away from the watching eyes of everyone else, she paced back and forth. She lifted her hand to rub against the glowing Hellstone ring on her finger. She admitted that with the recent turn of events that this was probably not the best time to do it. Yet, she could not let one more day go by. As much as she was not yet ready to forgive what he did, Byron also recognized that he needed her more than ever.
She could tell he was near before he said anything. “Hello, Diablo…”
“Hello… Byron…” he said. That felt awkward. Then again, considering that their separation has been for a while, he was not sure what other way it could be. He came into the room to hug her, but just before he got there, she placed her hand gently on his chest. Of course… Like always, he was moving too fast… “I…”
“I decided to have our food delivered,” she said. “I figured we could talk freely away from everyone’s eyes.”
“The god of Hell cares not what mortals think about…” he stopped in mid-thought, realizing that it was for HER sake, rather than that of everyone else. Silently, he cursed himself. Once more, his tongue had spoken before his mind had caught up.
Byron’s reaction toward Diablo’s answer was more forgiving than his was. She could tell by the expression on his face that he reconsidered his words in mid-thought. “Thank you for being patient… with me… through all of this.”
“Patience? I HAVE no patience…” he said. “Except for where you are concerned.”
Byron smiled. Repairing a troubled marriage is difficult. “So… How do you like your new position as White Pawn?”
Diablo grumbled, his face clearly betraying his frustration. “For the Lord of Hell to subordinate himself… to serve… when he is used to ruling…”
“Diablo, there is an old saying… that in order to rule, you have to learn to serve.”
“Nonsense… Whoever came up with such a…”
“The idea is that you shouldn’t rule unless you know who you are ruling.”
“Blasphemy… Should I choose, I could just as well enter the minds of my subjects and learn that way… or order them to tell me…”
She raised her voice. “You have to know what it is LIKE in order to do anything about it.” Silence entered the room between the two of them. What she had meant had eluded him before, but now he grasped it. “Do you get along with the rest of the court?”
“Grover is… a respectable individual, even if I find him too idealistic in some respects. Having observed him, though, he is clearly more ‘earthen’ now as a father than he was when I met him seven years ago.”
Byron’s eyebrow went up. SuperGrover was DEAD seven years ago (Ascension). What the hell was he getting at?
“Nebula has personality,” Diablo said with a smile. “Not as much as her mother, but definitely personality. As for her work as a queen, it is too early to tell. Casey Jones, as you know, is a lawyer.” Diablo rubbed his hands with a mischievous grin. “Once he passes into the afterlife, I think he will make an excellent addition to…”
“Diablo!” Byron said, laughing. “Really…”
“I might see if I can find a place for him in my ranks… Excellent lawyer… even if he can be too officious.”
Byron finally caught her breath. Then, suddenly she stopped. “Hold on… I’m a lawyer, too!”
“Well… yes,” Diablo said. “But you already have a place… by my side.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“As for Ozymandias, my opinion of him is that he is too big for his breeches. Phoenix Gate… BAH… He was MUCH more interesting as avatar of the celestial Phoenix. He had power, but he was not ‘afraid’ or ‘morally bound’ of using it!”
“Diablo,” Byron giggled. “I…” she allowed a tear to trickle down her eye. This was it. It was just like this in the beginning. Diablo’s “bad” act, but in good humor. Although he was in more danger than ever, this was the Diablo she had fallen in love with.
Unaware of Byron’s look, Diablo continued on his speech. “Then, Khalid… Mufasa…” Diablo said, leaning back. “He has actually surprised me in the past months. ALWAYS an interesting character – for reasons I cannot say, yet – but I must admit that recently, he has proven himself to be even better than his past incarnation.” He stopped as if that triggered a thought. A thought that had proven itself disturbing, even to him. A thought… that unfortunately he was not at liberty to discuss with Byron. “Overall, I consider the White Court’s overall temperament to be on the weak side… concerned with ‘morality’ and ‘idealness’ and all that… Such wasted potential… Your Grey Court, on the other hand…”
“Let’s not talk about them,” Byron said. “I… Diablo, as you know… I’m not ready for us to unite again. I need time. After today, though… I think things are going to be okay.”
“Of course they are going to be okay!” Diablo said, with mock surprise. “I am the Lord of Hell… If they were not going to be okay, then I would force it to go back and…” his speech was interrupted by a kiss on the cheek. For a moment, the two horns that grew out of his scalp glowed bright red and then faded again. “I… forget… what I was saying.”
Byron rubbed his scalp, stopping to trace a finger around one of the horns. She chuckled as she saw it turn bright red again. “Enough games… Food’s here.”
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BHC – Office of the Black King
“Hey… Justin?” Greg asked, poking his head in through the door. “You have a moment?”
“Sure, come on in! It’s not like I have a secretary or a thousand appointments to keep or…”
Greg noticed that Justin was polishing something. As he got closer, he blinked. “Hey… Hold on… Are those replicas of Grammies?”
“Grammies?” Justin asked. “That’s just sick, man! Why the hell would I want to buy replicas of my grandma?! I mean… You know what people DO with statues and things like that? I heard it was the same thing they do with spatul…”
Greg cleared his throat, more to interrupt Justin than anything else. “No… I meant like the Grammy Awards… You know… those awards they put for music and…” he stopped, picking up one of the freshly polished figures in his hand. “JUSTIN… What the hell are you doing with Mufasa’s Grammies?!”
“Um… er…” Justin snatched it out of Greg’s hand and put them all in a box. With a troubled laugh, he dropped down into his chair and set his feet on the desk. “SO, what did you come here to talk about?”
“Hey… Aren’t those Khalid’s tennis shoes, too?”
Justin quickly put his feet underneath the desk. “SO… WHAT IS IT YOU WANT TO DISCUSS, GREG??!!”
“Oh… Sorry… um… I was wondering if you had seen Rhiannon lately.”
“No,” Justin answered. “Though I did see her handiwork. I’m going to have to get the statue of Silver repaired, not to mention her suite rebuilt, but…”
“No, I know where she is.” Greg said. “What I’m saying is that her look has sort of… um… changed.”
“It has?” Justin asked.
At that moment, Justin’s secretary – Francesca Ortiz – walked in with a box. “Excuse me, Mr. Mills,” she said. “I have a package for you from Ms. LeBeau.”
“Oooooh! She sent me a gift!” Justin walked over, taking the box from Francesca much like a child. While he was keeping the act on, he was really trying to hide just how upset he really was. He went back to his desk…
“Mr. Mills… One more thing… Mr. Hunter called to tell you that he wants his Grammies, his tennis shoes, and his truck delivered back to his house by this afternoon.”
Guess he doesn’t know about the records, yet… Justin opened the box, finding it virtually empty… except for hair lining the bottom… long BLONDE hair… “What…” At the bottom was a note… “Bite me.”
End Part III
Scenes Part IV
One thing that the good doctor had said before he left for Tampa was that physically, he could not figure anything wrong with Khalid without a full physical. (Khalid outright said no way in hell.) According to the readings from the Neuron Holographic Projector taken shortly before Khalid took it off his wrist in Egypt (Shifting Sands), it showed that over the time there his hormones had grown out of whack and changes in his encephalogram readings. The thing Gabe could not figure out was whether it had been previously suppressed with the Mufasa persona or that had been planted one of those times Maul had “borrowed” his body. Other people who had been possessed by vampires seemed to come out of it with no further side effects, so it pointed to the former…
The point was that Khalid was… um… different. That was one way to describe it. His personality was about a mixture between “Khalid” and “Mufasa” – in particular their most colorful personality traits. Admittedly, Gabe’s goal had been to force this to happen, but he had not been ready for the results.
“All right, K… First thing is first,” Gabe said, walking into the living room. “Forget what Sharon said. Act more like Mufasa and less like Khalid.”
Khalid smirked as he watched the Discovery Channel special. “I’ve been trying to warn you. They’re the same. In fact, as YOU had shown me, (Full Circle) there came certain points where they even acted the same.” He pulled his fist in triumph as the lioness on the television forced an antelope to the ground.
“True, true, true… but still. Keep in mind. K played the nice guy and rarely got any. Okay… that said, I already picked your clothes for you.”
“You picked my clothes for me?!”
“YES, I picked your clothes for you. I’m not being seen in public with a guy who wears nothing but swimming trunks all the time. Besides… We’re trying to set you up with this woman, not scare her to death! Now here… Go change,” Gabe said, tossing the pile of clothes toward him. “Oh… and two more things… You’re going to eat your food with SILVERWARE tonight… and NO GROWLING.” He watched Khalid disappear into the bedroom. “No growling until out of the restaurant, that is…” He heard a demonic growl carry out of the bedroom. “STARTING NOW.”
While Khalid changed, Gabe looked over at the other box he had for Khalid. That white Hellions-style rook outfit just was not going to cut it. (Not to mention that Khalid thought it was too tight.) Khalid needed something to blend into the dark… but that would be something the two of them would discuss later.
Khalid stepped out in a pair of black khakis, black denim shirt, and a black vest. He glared toward Gabe, holding up the tie in his hand.
“Put it on,” Gabe said.
Khalid answered with a growl and then burned it in his hand as he walked back toward the couch. He tossed the burning tie over his head, not seeing it land in the garbage. “I DO have my professional image to consider,” Khalid said.
“WHAT professional image? Remember… your career went belly-up when…” Gabe stopped when Khalid glared at him and snarled. Normally, that wouldn’t have stopped him at all, but even now Gabe realized that it was too low a blow.
“Don’t go there,” Khalid said as he dropped onto the couch. As if disgusted by the television, he tapped the remote turning it off. “Besides… Don’t count me out, yet. My music is still selling well… and I still have Lyonspaw Records.”
“But you aren’t playing anywhere…”
“Oh… I wouldn’t say that,” Khalid sneered. “A good celebrity knows how to stir up more publicity. I got an offer that I’d have to be an idiot to refuse.” He nodded toward the envelope on the coffee table.
Gabe picked it up, reading it over. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” They looked at each other. Gabe had his answer. “You’re right. You’re going to get plenty of publicity all right… with everyone else breathing down your neck.”
“I’d have to be a goddamn fool to turn down an invitation by the Master of Magnetism to play a concert in Genosha.”
“If the PRESS gets a hold of this,” Gabe started when he saw the smile on Khalid’s face.
“Who says they haven’t?”
“You are a goddamn genius.”
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The Circle of Mystics were up in arms. That was an understatement. Commotion was a light word to use for the chaos taking place in this realm.
Sorcerers, mages, wizards, and others from all across the Earthenrealm and its surrounding dimensions were present. Even Diablo’s mother, the former ruler of Limbo herself Kyluna, had shown up for what was one of the most important emergency meetings of all time. The topic of discussion?
Evil…
Malachi, at twelve the youngest person ever to be admitted into the Circle of Mystics, watched people dash back and forth arguing and yelling. Some bordered on fighting, but he knew that it would never come to that. Beside him was someone how had served for years as his mentor – the most prominent person in his studies – Gomurr Shang Chek, who watched the proceedings with a bit of concern.
“All right,” Malachi whispered. “It’s been two hours since I left my calculus class to see what was the deal here… and I’m just as confused as ever. I can’t figure out what is going on.”
“Do you see that man over there in the leather jacket?” Gomurr said, pointing to a man near Kyluna.
“Timothy Danvers? The Time Elemental?”
“Yes, Mischance,” Gomurr answered. “He warned of what appears to be the eruption of a temporal black hole.”
“What?”
“Dimensional and time travel to him are absolute, however the eruption of this black hole means that he cannot proceed past that point.”
“Could it be isolated to just him?”
“That is what I wondered at first,” Gomurr said. “However, I have noticed that others have also reported similar findings – I am talking about timewalkers, clairvoyants, etc.”
The Sorcerer Supreme Shamen stood up before the entire collection of people gathered around. With a wave of his hand, a lightning bolt struck the center of the large meeting room, causing a wave of silence to fall across everyone. As everyone had seen so far, he had remained quiet through most of the proceedings. “Please allow Mischance to finish his statement. I realize that everyone is particularly concerned about events, but we cannot act until we understand the full scope. Please, Mischance, continue…”
“As I have said, this black hole is occurring only in respect to the future. I noticed its eruption about two months ago and decided to investigate. While I can proceed past that point in other dimensions and timelines, I cannot proceed past that point in this timeline. There is an incredible amount of uncertainty. Only darkness.”
Once again, murmuring began to pick up throughout the room.
“Can you give us a clue?”
“From what I’ve been able to surmise,” Mischance said. “Mallefus.”
“God damn,” Shamen said.
“Fuck…” said someone else.
“He’s returning,” Mischance said.
Once again, the room degenerated into chaos, with people shouting and bickering back and forth. Some were pounding on the desk furiously. Others were screaming and sobbing. One of the mages even took some heart medicine. This time, it was Gomurr that stood up, addressing a question to the Circle. “That should not be possible. The Elohim themselves took care of him.”
“I will answer that.” Everyone stopped as another voice called out. Around the room, everyone stood at their seats as the new entrant into the arena stepped to the center. Two fluffy feathery wings hung around her back with her long blonde hair just over them. She glanced first at Shamen, bidding him to sit down, and then turned to face the entire circle.
“Please speak, Azrael,” he said to the beautiful Elohim.
“Approximately two months ago, at the time Mischance said the black hole erupted, we detected a breach had been made into the realm that had previously contained Mallefus.” Murmurs carried around the room. “He has already escaped and possessed a human host, however he cannot be burst free until he has absorbed enough esoteric energy.”
“I don’t understand,” Gomurr said. “How could he have escaped without…”
“Help?” Azrael asked. “He couldn’t.” The murmurs grew louder. “It was the combined might of all the Elohim that imprisoned him in the first place. When the fallen Sammael slew Michael, that depleted our numbers. Raphael, as you know, had already been fallen. That seriously depleted our available energy. The defenses were down. However, what you are implying is correct… Mallefus did escape with help.”
“Who helped him?”
Azrael stopped before she answered. “Estophalum. Since his bid to repossess the Purified was thwarted (Millennium), his available power is low. It is my belief that he wishes to challenge Mallefus and take his power for his own.”
“My god,” Kyluna said. “Is it already too late has…”
“No, Kyluna…” Azrael said. “Mallefus is too smart for that. He rejected the Illuminati’s proposed sacrifice and chose another human host. That, of course, presents another problem. No one knows who Mallefus’ host is. He could be possessing anyone on the Earth right now.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve got two problems. 1.) If Estophalum finds Mallefus and kills him before he recuperates, then he will become more dangerous than ever. 2.) If WE don’t find Mallefus before he recuperates and emerges, then it will be him that we deal with.”
“Heaven help us all…” someone cried out.
“This time,” Azrael said. “I’m afraid that it is Heaven that has come to ask for your help.”
End Part IV
Scenes: Part V
Grover’s Apartment
“Oz…” Grover said, across from the table. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but this is getting really old.”
“Old? Maybe that should tell you something,” Ozymandias answered. “I realize he is your cousin and that you are mystically bonded to him, but you have to be objective.”
“Interesting choice of words, Oz. Are you saying that this pissing contest between the two of you is objective? First, you were pissed because he was voted in. Then, you were upset because he wasn’t pulling his own weight – though he was blind as a bat at the time. He’s useless… he’s insane… he’s confrontational… For the least three years – has it been three years already? – I’ve heard the same thing over and over and over again in different forms.”
“Can you honestly look at how he’s changed over the past couple of years and tell me that I’m not justified?”
“And just how much of that did we cause?” Grover asked. “I was… indisposed at the time in question, but you and Case DID agree with Sharon’s decision to allow Daemon and Maul to be in charge of his training. Having known exactly the trouble he was having reconciling ‘Khalid’ and ‘Mufasa’, I can’t say I understand exactly what you expected to happen.”
“Searching for you was our priority. We had no time to deal with his mental…”
“As one of the most powerful telepaths in the world, I would have thought it was right up your alley.”
“There were… difficulties,” Oz answered. “Still, though… They were…”
“Two of the deadliest mercenaries ever to join the Hellfire Club?”
“Very funny.”
“Who’s joking?” Grover pushed away from the table for a moment, tapping his fingers on the surface. “The point was to train him. What ended up happening? A complete fusion of what had previously been two competing personalities. Before you start getting defensive, I’ll let you know that I don’t think that is necessarily a bad thing. I think you just weren’t prepared for what it might bring.”
“Prepared?! Prepared?! He’s insane!”
“About as insane as a man who ripped possession of an ancient artifact from a future version of his son in a psionic battle?”
“I think I see your point.”
“Good, because I don’t plan on having this argument with you again.” Grover reached for a folder beside him on the table and slid it over to Oz. “Besides, we have more pressing matters.”
Oz telemetrically browsed through the contents of the folder. “Jermaine Edwards…”
“Nickname of Dusty. It’s one of the entries that Alice found going through the files we confiscated from Darkheart. Apparently he was on a future ‘recruitment’ list.”
“Psychokinetic transmorph?”
“Yes… and Casey just called in. Angelo arranged for Jermaine to complete his medical degree via independent study with the Hellfire Club. He will intern in the infirmary with Angelo.”
“They do that?”
“They do that when you are a representative of a filthy rich organization and one of the most published doctors in neurology. Anyway, he’s in… however, like Khalid once was, he is a man with little to no experience in the Hellfire Club and the effective use of his powers.”
“And what does this have to do with me?”
“He… is our new White Paladin.”
“What?”
“And as White Knight, that means that he reports to you.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with him?”
“He’s your protégé… Make him into Hellfire Club material.”
----------------------
BHC – Holographic Training Room
Poetry in motion. That was one way to explain it. Why not? That was the way she should be. After all, she was currently the highest-ranking member of the Thieves Guild. Few people knew it, but every day she checks by e-mail to see exactly what her people did and how they did it… and she was NOT afraid to go down to New Orleans and kick some serious Cajun ass if someone decided to mess with her.
One of the things that concerned her lately was that the Assassins have been having problems. Someone keeps on interfering with their campaigns. Normally, Outburst would laugh about it and how they deserve it, but what concerns her is the risk that the Assassins may once again declare war on the Thieves. Too many people have died in previous wars. She can’t spend all of her time in New Orleans trying to keep everything on the even…
Two arrows heading for her. Intercept with charged cards. That frees her bow staff up to intercept the bullets bearing down on her. One quick jump and she was in the thick of it. Seven thugs bearing down on her. Quick slap of the bowstaff around three faces and they were down. Run down the three charging her. She went in between two of them, holding her staff sideways to catch them in the necks. After they went down, the last one was easy.
What she did NOT expect, though, was the rope grabbing her by the leg and pulling her into the air. “What the HELL?! Computer… I did NOT program this!” She charged the rope and detonated it. It was nothing for her to right herself in the air… and wait…
She spun her staff around, leveling at her new opponent’s neck. “Playing wit’ fire?”
“Mmmmmm… I LOVE it when your accent comes out,” Justin said. “That means you are good and mad…”
“At you? Yes?”
“Your pheromones are more powerful then, too,” he said.
“Shut up,” she said. He had to admit… he liked the new shoulder-length hair cut and the reddish coloring she added to it. The trademark armor was still there, but the trenchcoat was not.
“We need to talk.”
“What’s there to talk about?” she said. “You… CHEATED on me… with a fucking slut. You did the… you know… THAT THING… IN YOUR PRIVATE SHOWER!!!”
“I…” Justin said. “I can’t keep explaining what happened… and I can’t keep on apologizing for it. Rose seduced me telepathically. My thoughts were not my own when we did that. They were hers.”
“You said five whole sentences without cracking a joke…” Outburst pondered his expression. Even Phantom said that Justin had no control over his reactions, but in the back of her mind was the idea that he should have been stronger… or more accurately that SHE should have been stronger. She should have beat the shit out of Rose before that happened. “You and I…” she said. “We’re…”
Before she could finish, he grabbed her by the back of the arms. “I’m telling you this, right now. Rose may have been a dead ringer for Winona Ryder, but she had NOTHING on you. When it came down to it, she had to rely on telepathy to nail me. You? You do it more efficiently…”
“Stop talking so seriously,” Outburst said. “Your beginning to sca…” she was stopped by his mouth on top of hers. It was a real kiss, all right. She could taste the Italian lunch he had, but that was the furthest thing from her mind. Before she realized it, she kissed him back. Just when the two of them were about to break for air, she felt a sharp sensation across her lip. “WHAT THE FUCK??!! YOU BIT ME!”
“You TOLD me to!” Justin said. “When you sent me your hair!” Justin looked down at the warm sensation growing in a tender area between his legs. “You didn’t… You charged my cup.”
“Sure did,” Outburst said with a sneer. “Too bad… I think you are wearing Khalid’s favorite pair of jeans, too…” With that, the cup exploded, sending Justin hurdling about thirty feet into the wall of the training room. Normally, Outburst would not have pulled such a stunt, but she knew that DarkWolf’s invulnerable skin would protect that particular… er… apparatus. An apparatus that she could see quite clearly, now.
“Ouch…”
Outburst snickered as she walked out the door. If he thought THAT was painful, wait until he tried to get from the training room back to his personal suite with everything hanging out like that.
“Admit it,” Justin’s voice called out through the door. “You still love me.”
Wouldn’t have charged your cup if I didn’t… Outburst said.
End Part V
Scenes: Part VI
Stan’s Steakhouse
At the phone booth, Sharon and Gabe appeared to be halfway-making out, especially with the way Gabe was trailing his hand up and down Sharon’s back. She was wearing a simple, red satin gown, that was really light on her. With a smile, Gabe knew exactly why she wore THAT dress… so he could rip it off after this date.
“Careful, Gabe…” she said with a smirk. “Keep this up and you’ll give everyone in this restaurant a show.”
“Good,” he said. “It’ll teach them something… especially how inferior certain Terran anatomy is from its Pharaohan counterpart…”
“Still, the reason I came over here was to talk… not to make out…” Gabe started to slow down. “Um… that did NOT mean to cut that off…” With a snicker, Gabe went back to what he was doing. “After all, we DO have to keep up appearances for Khalid and Camille…”
“Admit it, you just want me to do that because you like it…”
“No… that’s just one of the benefits!”
“Lean in closer and you’ll feel another one…”
“Um… Khalid and Camille…” Sharon whispered in Gabe’s ear. “Are they talking?”
Gabe sighed. “No… Not at all. Well… She’s talking about lions and Khalid’s just nodding…”
“She’s assuming he knows nothing about lions… I warned her about that.”
“And Khalid is currently on his third steak.”
“Damn… What the hell is wrong with him?”
“He’s just… going through some changes… almost like a second puberty.”
“Come on… Let’s go back there. See if we can get something moving between the two.” Sharon said, leading Gabe back to the table. Gabe sighed. He knew the instant that the two of them saw each other that Khalid had NO interest in her whatsoever. The only time he had said anything all night was to ask for more rare steak.
It didn’t make sense… Camille had the mixture of intelligence, beauty, and wit that Khalid really went for. She had on the best perfume… wore the tightest blue dress that every man in the restaurant was watching. Khalid just ate, apparently ignorant of the way Camille was sending nonverbal signals to him. Camille could be dancing naked on the table and Khalid would just eat the steak and act dismissive.
“Hello, you two… How’s the steak?” Sharon asked, sitting back at her place at the table. She glanced at Khalid one more time, at least remotely relieved that he was using a knife and fork.
“Oh,” Camille said, placing her hand on her chest. “We were so wrapped up discussing mating habits on the savannah that I didn’t even notice.”
Khalid grumbled as he ate. “Always got to cook the steak to death… and its too small…” He turned toward the waiter. “Please prepare another steak.”
I didn’t realize you were that dense, K… Gabe thought, taking a sip of champagne. He noticed Camille’s burgeoning frustration at not getting Khalid’s attention. “Sharon, you know the first thing I noticed about you? Aside from the obvious attributes, that is…”
“Ooooh…” she said. “Do tell…”
“Your eyes. Not the color, but the intensity. It shows how much you care… and how beautiful you are within.”
“Awwwww…” Sharon said, leaning into him. She whispered into his ear. “You told me before it was my chest…”
“Aside from the obvious attributes…”
“Got ya…” She turned to Khalid and Camille across the table. “Isn’t he sweet?”
“Well,” Camille said, looking at Khalid. “I look at Khalid and see those strong, powerful arms… arms that could hold… and protect.” She leaned in closer. “What do you see?”
Noticing that everyone’s eyes were on him, Khalid looked up from his steak, finishing the bite in his mouth. At first, Gabe thought Khalid was going to flake out, but then he reached his arm around Camille and leaned in. “The first thing I noticed about you… that really caught my eye…” he said, this time sniffing her neck. At first Camille shuddered, but then she started smiling… and holding her breath in anticipation.
Sharon prompted him from across the table. “Which is…”
“Four weeks pregnant,” Khalid said going back to his steak.
At first, the other three at the table stared in shock. Embarrassed and enraged, Camille grabbed her glass of champagne and threw it in Khalid’s face before rushing out from the table and storming toward the door.
Gabe raised his hand. “Check…”
“Khalid!” Sharon called out angrily.
Khalid continued eating at the steak, not even taking time to dry off the champagne still dripping from his face. “It almost covered up the scent of the two men she slept with yesterday…”
“I’m not believing this…” Sharon said, covering her face with her hand.
“No kidding,” Khalid said. “It’s pretty rare for a woman to be pregnant with a set of fraternal twins, each with a different father.”
“Where’s that damn waiter?!” Gabe said, looking around the restaurant.
“Gabe… is he telling the truth?!”
Gabe sighed. “He hasn’t been wrong, yet…”
Finished with his steak, Khalid glanced away from the table to catch a view of a waitress, who was serving the table next to theirs. She glanced behind her to smile at him and he responded with a soft growl.
Sharon jumped up from her seat, calling across the restaurant. “WAITER!!!!!”
End Part VI
Mufasa
King of Kemet
King of Insanity
The White Rook
XMBB Editor
The only man ever denied entrance into the Beer Cult.