Scenes *HF* (Complete)
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…
----------------------------
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…”
----------------------
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
Scenes: Part VII
White Mage’s Library
“All right,” Malachi said, pacing back and forth. “Tell me about Mallefus.”
Gomurr leaned back against his desk, poring through one of his books. “It’s been a while since we have had a ‘lesson’, so I think we’ll begin there. What do you remember of the Elohim?”
“The Elohim?” Malachi asked. “Seven of the most powerful beings in existence. They report directly to the One who rules above All. They are basically the equivalent of angels in the Christian faith…”
“Quick synopsis… effective, but gapped. I won’t get into that, now. One of the restrictions placed on the Elohim is that they cannot enter Heaven. Nephilim, however, have no such restriction.”
“Nephilim?”
“A child of an Elohim and a mortal.”
“I don’t understand,” Malachi said. “I’m assuming that Mallefus is a Nephilim, otherwise you would not have brought it up. Yet, if a Nephilim is just half an Elohim, then why did it take six of the seven Elohim to imprison Mallefus? Is he really that powerful?”
“Malachi,” Gomurr answered. “You just witnessed an Elohim personally ask the Circle of Mystics for help. What does that tell you?”
-----------------------
On the road back to Strong Towers
Well, tonight was a bust. That was a light way to put it. Sharon was so pissed right now that Gabe would have to be an idiot to try seducing her tonight. The only thing he could do right now to make her feel any better was drive the car and nod as she went on. Fortunately, Khalid was in the back seat quietly eating his fifth steak. (The cook gave him a free one.)
“I can’t BELIEVE you, Khalid,” Sharon seethed. “I went through all that trouble setting the two of you up and you act like… like…” She stopped, letting a strained growl come through her teeth.
“Yet another reason you shouldn’t try playing match-maker,” Khalid said. “Every girl you set me up with is bad news.”
“Come on, Khalid,” Gabe said, stopping at a red light. “You’re known for dating bad news. She would have been perfect. Of course, you’d have problems like hell breaking up with her in about two to three months when she started showing…”
“GABE… you aren’t helping,” Sharon said, crossing her arms across her chest. Gabe sighed. She gets sexy when she’s angry. Unfortunately, angry is also the time she’s LEAST likely to have sex…
“Sharon, he was right. Camille is pretty loose. As the valet brought the car over, I saw her getting into a cab with Dan Anders, chief executive of Anders Sanders.”
“So?”
“She had already hiked up her skirt as she got in.”
Sharon sighed, uncrossing her arms. Gabe smiled. Okay… mildly peeved. That was good. That he could work with. He might still get some tonight… Sharon glanced toward the back where Khalid had just finished his steak. “Okay, Khalid. I’m sorry about tonight.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Khalid said, momentarily flashing his photon aura around his hands to burn off the grease. “It happens… and the dinner was delicious.”
“I just…” Sharon stopped. “Khalid, you’ve just been so different for the past two months. I already mentioned everything before, but… It’s like you’re possessed.”
Khalid wasn’t sure what to say. He’d admit that he’s changed since going to Egypt (Shifting Sands), but he did not really feel different. It was always there, but he just did not realize it. He sat quietly in the back seat, looking morosely out the window as they passed.
“This past week, especially,” Sharon said. “You’ve just… come off so strong…”
“Tell you what,” Gabe said, interrupting her. “I'll just take him and go beat up bad guys for the next week or so. If he’s still messed up in the head after that, I’ll get a few hookers and lock him in the training room.”
“GABE!” Sharon glared.
“Trust me,” Gabe chuckled. “Sex and violence ALWAYS tames the putty tat.”
“Or makes it hyper…” Sharon glared.
“Hyper just means ‘receptive to more activity.’”
“Are we talking about HIM or YOU?” Sharon laughed.
The two of them were interrupted by a soft light growl from the back seat. At first, Sharon and Gabe looked at each other, and then they looked in the back seat just to see what Khalid was doing. He was looking out the window at Gomurr’s strip club as they passed.
“Forget it, K,” Gabe said. “You know what happened LAST time.”
“Actually,” Khalid said, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I just remember waking up three days later.”
“Oh… that’s right… Mufasa was in charge after the second vodka,” Gabe said. Suddenly, his eyes snapped wide as he remembered who was in the car with them.
“What ELSE happened LAST time??!!” Sharon said in her I’m-sleeping-at-my-apartment-tonight voice.
FUCK!!!!…
End Part VII
Scenes: Part VIII
Strong Towers
Fast and furious. That was the melody floating through the apartment. The man at the piano knew it well. Khalid had learned it years ago. Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 3 in A minor. Many people considered the piece a war-horse. Khalid loved it. You just HAVE to love a sonata whose tonal plan cycles up by major thirds in minor keys just in the first theme group.
Well… at any time other than 2:00 A.M…
“What the hell?!” Gabe said, bursting into the practice room.
The figure turned on the piano bench to face Gabe, moving his cape out of the way so it did not bunch around his waist. “Hello, Daemon…” SuperGrover said. “I think we have to talk.”
“Talk?!” Gabe said, flashing his sword. “Oh YEAH, you better talk… like how you got past my alarm system and why the fuck you are in my apartment at 2:00 in the morning!”
“All right,” Grover answered. “Though, put your sword away… It’s too late to fight. Basically, I want to hear from YOU exactly what is going on with Khalid… and what the hell happened to him.”
“About time one of you people from the White Court decided to give a flying fuck what happens…”
“I’d have asked earlier, but there were extenuating circumstances…”
“Yeah… like you were evil.”
“Bingo.”
“Fine,” Daemon said, sending Anubis back to its pocket dimension. “But after this, I am demanding an explanation of my own… like what the FUCK happened to my Grey Bishop!”
-------------------------
Prydesville, NY
Khalid knew something was up the moment he stepped out of his bedroom and onto the front porch. No, he didn’t have the urge to hunt tonight. After all the meat he ate today, he just was not hungry. He felt this energy – nervous energy? – that he felt was just burgeoning beneath him. Whatever the case, he knew he did not want to sleep. The visions were bad enough when they came to him in a waking dream. It was hell in sleep. What he would not give for a good night’s sleep.
With a flash of his eyes, he started to turn around when two fingers were sharply planted on both of his temples. “I was… wondering… when… you’d show up…”
“Nice to feel missed,” Patrick Walsh said, pushing in tighter on Khalid’s head. As strong as he was, this move applied just enough pain so that he could easily telepathically enter Khalid’s mind. “Hello, Löwe… Let’s talk. Have a seat.”
--------------------
“Let me get this straight… Sharon asks you to train him. Maul volunteers. THAT should have been a red flag right there…”
“Yes it should have,” Daemon answered. “Great-grandfathers have a habit of pulling out the most embarrassing baby photos at just the wrong time.” Grover and Daemon stopped, each one staring at each other for a moment. “Sorry, I forgot that Terrans don’t routinely live to see their great-grandchildren as adults.”
“You were RAISED here?”
“Don’t get sarcastic, Smurf King…”
“As tall as you are, where do you think you get off calling ANYONE a Smurf?”
“Let’s get back to the subject at hand!” Daemon glared. Yes, he would normally slap the hell out of someone who said that, but not now… especially when he opened himself up for it.
“All right… Some people who call themselves the Toc-Ra came out to capture Khalid, because as Mufasa he hid the artifacts known as the Eye of Ra and the Key of Ra… and only he knew where they were.”
“Got it…” Daemon said. (See “Full Circle” and “Shifting Sands” to see what REALLY happened…) “Mufasa took control… ripped them a new one. I decided that if these artifacts were indeed bad news, that we should get them before anyone else.”
“Ever the proactive Grey King…”
“The switches back and forth between ‘Khalid’ and ‘Mufasa’ started happening more and more, being even more unpredictable while I was researching the archaeological databases in the area. He was acting funny as if he were afraid of something…”
That’s when the premonitions started… Grover thought.
“I observed it for a while noticing how it shifted in varying degrees… particularly when he sensed the Toc-Ra found the Eye. I think that is around the time when I found that the ‘two’ of them ‘fused’.”
---------------------
“Why… are you… doing… this?” Khalid said, fighting Maul’s lock on his mind.
“I gave you a gift, Löwe,” Maul answered, applying more pressure to Khalid’s temples. “I ‘freed’ you enough so that what lay inside could come out.” His eyes flashed as he started moving his fingers in circles.
“You… brainwashed… me…”
“No… Mind control and brainwashing are two different things. Put it this way, Löwe… Everything has a price. I freed you… and you owe me.”
“Get out of…”
“You’re my back-up,” he said, with a sneer. “I don’t think I’ll tell you just how. I’ll let you find out with everyone else, should I decide to play that card. However, you don’t need to be remembering I’m alive just yet. I’ll take care of…” He stopped. “A block? A telepathic block?”
Unseen by Maul, Khalid’s eyes and tattoos started glowing bright white.
“How come I never noti…” Before Maul could complete his statement, a psionic backlash ripped through his system, causing him to drop to the ground.
Khalid stood up, staring down at Maul. “Sorry, Walsh…” he said, taking hold of Maul’s energy field. “I’ll allow your telepathic suggestion to run its course, but I WON’T allow you to endanger everything.”
“I… don’t know…”
“You’re right… You don’t know.” Khalid sneered. “And I’m making sure it stays that way.” With a flash of his eyes, Khalid forced Maul’s telepathy to erase the events from his own mind. Instead, Maul would have the memory of ambushing Khalid and reinforcing the psionic suggestion, then returning to the shadows to spy in secret. Satisfied, he triggered Maul’s shadowsporting ability to return him to the shadows. “Can’t play that card until it’s time.”
-------------------------
“So, they just ‘fused’, huh?” Grover asked. “Well… UNFUSE them. You created this problem with him… you fix it back.”
“FIX it?” Daemon said. “FIX it?!” Once again, Anubis flashed into his hand. “Do you have the faintest CLUE what the fuck your ‘cousin’ has gone through? The HELL he was in?!”
“We loaned him to you so that he could learn how to defend himself… NOT to release the ‘King of Kemet’!” Grover answered, forming the Gauntlets of Excalibur into a staff.
“K and Mufasa were one and the same; they were ALWAYS one and the same! What did you THINK they were? Two people trapped in the same body?! The REASON K had problems was because he refused to acknowledge it. Once confronted with his past, he couldn’t deny it.”
“Or maybe being confronted with his past was what caused him to snap!” Grover answered. “Whatever case, he is NOT the same person we know…”
“No… He’s not. This time he’s actually whole,” Daemon said, sending the extradimensional sword back into its pocket dimension. “And sometimes it takes some doing to get settled in. If you want to give him back his case of split-personality disorder, then do it yourself… and know that if you do it, I’m going to fucking gut you from crotch to chin.”
“You DARE threaten me?!” Grover said.
“YES… You tell me RIGHT NOW if you think your cousin is any better off than he was before.”
“HE… is…” he stopped. “You’re right.” He stood up, walking toward the door. “You are absolutely right. I wanted to be sure.”
“Sure… of…”
“That you knew what you did… and to say thank you.”
“THANK you?! Fuck that… You want to ‘thank me’, then maybe you should get your court up to snuff instead of watching them fall to pieces the MOMENT you aren’t there to babysit them. Maybe if they aren’t fighting amongst each other so much of the time you might get some shit done.”
“I DON’T need your advice.”
“No… YOU don’t,” Gabe sneered. “And K doesn’t… and individually, no one does… Your court as a whole…”
“Good night, Mr. Strong,” Grover said, and flew out the window before Daemon could say another word.
“What you fail to realize,” Daemon said, instantly changing shape with a flash of light. “Is that Mr. Strong is currently at Ms. Stokes’ place…” With a flick of his hand, the Stranger cast a spell that changed the recordings on Daemon’s security discs. “Good night, Grover… You might want to take my advice.”
End Part VIII
Scenes: Part IX
White Mage’s Library
He was up all night. How could he help it? Six months from now, one of the most dangerous demons known to man was going to make his move. The thing was that no one knew where he was or who he had bonded to. They just knew that if they did not find Mallefus’ host before he burst free that there would be utter chaos… a bloodbath. If Estophalum finds him first and kills him? It’s that much worse.
The first process would be to figure out what type of host a demon like Mallefus would take. A mortal with no superpowers would not be ideal. The change to the mortal would be dramatic, rippling like a beacon for all to see. For a mortal with powers, Mallefus can disguise his energy to match theirs. As weak as he is now, that would give him plenty of time to recharge. Everyone would simply interpret it as the natural progression of a person growing into his powers.
There is also the possibility that someone else is hiding him… but that REALLY is not likely. No reason exists to hide such a sick and twisted demon like that. No reason at all… Mischance said that he noticed the black hole about two months ago. That was the magic time.
“Two months ago… What has happened in the past two months?” Grover grabbed a blank notebook off his shelf. The best way to approach this would be systematically. In all the Hellfire Courts, there have been people who have changed dramatically in one way or another. They might not like it, but he was going to have to start keeping tabs on everyone…
--------------------
A lot has happened. Just in the space of two months. This was NOT the same court he had left after that mess happened with the soul devourer. (The Hunt) Darque Feonix calls himself Ozymandias. Blackfire quit as queen and has taken up residence at the Grey Court. SlashR was dead. Diablo joined. Nebula became queen. Khalid became Mufasa… sort of. He’s got a fourteen-year-old girl for an assassin. Gomurr’s grown about a foot and a half and has developed a tan. Christian calls him daddy. Oh yeah… and his new White Warlord is another version – a twisted, sarcastic, smart-ass version – of Robert Maxwell. Not Harbinger, though… Cronos. With an agenda of his own, of course… These days, who doesn’t have one?
“All right, Cronos,” SuperGrover said. “You already know this, so…”
“Fine, then quit wasting my time.”
“It’s debatable who is wasting whose time, here,” Grover snapped back. “I’m sure that you have some reason, whatever it is, for pushing his buttons, but leave him alone.”
“Me? Pushing his buttons?” he asked. “I wouldn’t dream of it… We ALL know he is mentally stable now and…”
Grover sighed. Some days it just did not pay to be king. “I’m not telling you again. I’m not going to have all this infighting inside my court. All of that has to come to an end.”
“In that case, shouldn’t you have your White Rook and Knight in here instead?”
“I’ll deal with them soon enough. The issue at hand is you. Don’t make me regret vouching for you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Cronos said, standing up from his chair. “Not at all.” With an arrogant smirk, he disappeared into thin air, leaving the room altogether.
Grover stood up to look out the window overlooking the courtyard with the statue of the Harbinger. Case said that the risk was not worth it, but I said that this was a different Maxwell. He’s different, all right.
“You have no idea…” he heard behind him. Grover spun around immediately, leveling a blade formed from Excalibur at his visitor’s neck. “Now come on,” his visitor smiled. “It hasn’t been THAT long since we were best buddies…”
“It’s never happened,” Grover said. “Leave… Now.”
“Do you HONESTLY think your insignificant metal can have any effect on me?” the HellGoat asked. “Here!” He grabbed Grover’s wrist and pulled the blade across his neck. At first there was no effect, but then HellGoat’s head toppled down. The two demonic horns imbedded themselves in the floor, supporting the rest of the decapitated head.
“Cute,” Grover said.
HellGoat’s body bent over, his hands pawing the ground looking for the head. “Hey! You! Over here!” Finally, the hands found it and returned it to the neck backwards. The head turned of its own volition, righting itself to look forward. “Good thing I did those head-spinning exercises…”
“What do you want?” Grover said.
“No… I don’t want something… but YOU do,” he said. “You’ve seen some of Khalid’s visions through the bond you share. You know he is going to die.”
“And you have come to offer a way to save him… right?”
“Actually… No. I don’t like the bastard. I plan on laughing my fool ass off while his life trickles away. No, I’m offering a way for you cut off the aftermath. You get a chance to save thousands, millions, billions of lives… and protect this mudball from a threat greater than you know. You get to live up to your title as Champion…” (alluded to in Phantom Nails)
“No,” Grover said. “I’ve seen the type of deal you make. I want no part of it.”
“He will die,” HellGoat said. “He will be hated, despised, and labeled a traitor… All that has life will curse his name. You… and only YOU determine if that life will continue to flourish… or be wiped away in the coming tempest.”
“What cost?”
“Oh…” he said. “But that would be telling…” He disappeared in a cloud of smoke, more for dramatic effect than for necessity.
What the hell was going on?
-------------------------------
“Get OUT!” Khalid fought against the fingers locked in a deathgrip on his neck. It was futile to struggle. That just made his opponent enjoy it all the more. Yet, it was not in his nature to surrender. What he was really doing was spinning things in his mind, gathering information to make a strategic move.
“No, I don’t think so…” his opponent said, pulling Khalid closer to his face. Khalid responded with a growl. The man at first laughed, but then responded with a growl that was fiercer and more demonic. “I think I like my new home JUST fine.”
“You can’t HAVE it!”
“You’ll just have to do something ABOUT it, won’t you… ‘Khalid’… ‘Mufasa’… or do you go by ‘Purified’ these days?”
“You can COUNT on it!” Khalid spat.
His opponent backhanded him across the face, splitting open his lip. Then, he followed it up with a punch before he threw Khalid to the ground. Before he could get up, his opponent ran over kicking him in the chin.
“Know this,” The man grabbed him by the base of his braid and planted his thumb and forefinger painfully on the underside of his neck. Khalid blinked his eyes open to look at his assailant’s face… a mirror image of his own. The doppelganger squeezed even tighter laughing in his face. “You have two choices, Purified… Do nothing and I burst free… Release me and I am free. Either way, I’m free…” he tilted Khalid’s head up. “and I could never have done it with out you!” With that he moved his hands as if to snap Khalid’s neck…
Khalid snapped awake in his office chair, sending a stack of papers lying on his desk all over the floor. He came to his feet and leaned over his desk, trying to calm the pulsing in his temples when he heard a knock at the door. “Come on in,” Khalid said.
“Uncle K-Lid, it’s time for my saxop…” Christian stopped in the doorway as if he was transfixed.
Just as Khalid was about to look toward the child, he saw a drop of crimson land on his desk. He rubbed the back of his hand across his lip, noticing the bloody streak… and that his jaw was tender. He looked toward the child, not quite sure what he expected to see. “Christian, I…”
“How come I’m not hearing any hon…” Grover’s voice carried through the door. He stopped, noticing that Khalid’s face was a bloody mess… as if he just got the shit beat out of him. “Um… Christian… Go see Alice.”
“Uncle K-Lid is… in… pain…” Christian said.
“Go,” Grover said more forcefully. “Uncle Khalid and I have to talk.”
End Part IX
Part X
Office of the Black King
“Justin… We need to talk.”
The words of doom. Anyone else, Justin would have taken at their word and even made a few wisecracks while doing it. When Rhiannon came calling and using that serious tone, it had to be trouble. She didn’t insult him… She didn’t use the high-pitched “yoohoo” voice… and most importantly, she did not have Phantom with her.
This was DEFINITELY bad.
“Don’t worry about my… um… my jewels. They were a little tender, but Dei Lu gave me the most amazing cream and…”
“I’m leaving.”
“Fuck.” Justin said, getting up from behind his desk. As he walked toward her, he accidentally bumped into the monitor on his desk, sending it crashing to the ground. He didn’t notice it. “You’re joking… Right? Right?”
“No.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “This is my resignation and…”
He crumpled it up in his hand. “Never got it, so that means you can’t resign.”
“Don’t make this any harder than it is.”
“Then don’t leave!”
“Justin, listen to me,” she said. “Something came up… So, I’m calling the Hellfire Club quits for a while.”
“What?! What could possibly have come up?!”
“Well,” she stepped back toward the door to open it up, revealing a man. “I’ve found someone else.”
“What the… MATT DAMON??!!” Justin yelled.
“This is the Justin I heard so much about,” Matt said. “You blew it BIG time, Pal. Why the hell would you choose the Winona Ryder clone when you could have THIS?” He pulled Rhiannon roughly to him and started kissing her.
Justin lunged at them, grabbing wildly but a large bald man stepped out of nowhere stepping in between them. “Calm down, man… Keep it civil.”
“What the fuck is going on?!” Justin yelled. He suddenly glanced to the right to see an audience. “What are all these people doing in my office?”
“JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!” the audience yelled.
Jerry Springer stepped out of the doorway behind him. “So, Rhiannon… are you telling us that your relationship with Justin is over?”
Rhiannon’s answer was drowned out by Matt Damon’s mouth. The two of them dropped to the floor, rolling around on it as they made out. Steve – the big bald man – looked at Justin with a quizzical expression on his face as he held him back.
“GET YOU MOUTH OFF OF RHIANNON’S!!!” Justin yelled. “I mean… geesh… WE never even did that…”
Matt pulled his mouth off. “Sorry… It’s the pheromones…” Rhiannon jerked him back down by the shirt and continued making out with him.
“I can’t believe this…”
Jerry Springer spoke into the mic again. “That’s what happens when you have Mufasa write the story.”
“JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!”
Justin snapped back awake at his desk, looking once again at the sheet of paper in his hands. Rhiannon’s letter of resignation. There was no way he could deny it. She was leaving… for good. It wasn’t fair. It was FAR from fair.
Suddenly, the door flew open and Rhiannon stepped through. “Justin, before Phantom and I leave, there’s one more thing I have to say.”
“And that is?”
She jumped over the desk, landing on Justin’s lap. The force of the jump caused the chair to roll backwards until it crashed into the wall. Her hands grabbed Justin’s jacket roughly to pull him close to her face, as if she were threatening him. “That bitch Rose doesn’t have ANYTHING on me!” Then, she kissed him.
And the only thing Justin could think was… “Rose who?”
-----------------------------
Other than the ambient noise, the only sound in the room was water being splashed in the sink. By now, it had turned a reddish color. Once more, the terry washcloth dipped under the surface of the water, this time coming up to be wrung. A hand came down, slamming on top of plug. He sat there for a moment, listening to the bloody water go down the drain. If only ever it were so easy.
Khalid finally looked into the mirror. The injuries would heal in a matter of days. His neck and jaw would be tight for a while, but they would be fine otherwise. His pulse would not go down. Too much adrenaline. He slowly breathed in and out, forcing himself to relax. It was fine, now.
“What’s going on?”
“History’s just repeating itself,” Khalid answered. With a quick flash of his aura, the excess water evaporated off his hands and face. He turned around to face Grover, who was straddling the bench between the two sets of lockers.
###He stalked toward the hangar bay. Just as he expected. The Hellions were waiting for him.
“We can’t let you leave.”
“I’m not asking.”###
“I need something more specific.”
“I can’t help you out.”
“You’re hiding something.”
“And you aren’t?”
“I’m the fucking king. If I want to hide something, then that is my right. You on the other hand…”
“Fuck that. The court never gave a damn about my affairs before. Why the hell should they start now?”
“It’s personal, now?”
“I don’t think it gets any more personal than knowing you are going to die.”
###He started to make the incision when he felt the thrust in his back and looked down to see the blade sticking out just under his sternum. With a flash of the eyes, he knew who it was without even looking behind him. “Y… You… betrayed me?”
“Yes… Long overdue, don’t you think?”###
Grover brought his fist down swiftly on the wooden bench, shattering it to pieces as he stood up. Khalid did not need his sliver of Excalibur to feel the rage in this room. When the occasion calls for it, Grover was as good at masking his temper as he was. As with everyone, certain “triggers” shot right through the mask. “You shared with me one of your visions – the one where you get stabbed by someone you know. I want to know ALL of them… NOW.”
“No.” Khalid said.
“That was not a fucking request; that was a fucking order.”
“And the answer is STILL no.”
“God damn it,” Grover closed the distance, shoving Khalid back into the mirror. The impact of his shoulder caused it to crack. “Is this the only thing you understand, now? I have to browbeat you to get it out?! DAMN you, you’re taking this fucking lightly… I don’t care HOW ‘personal’ you think it is. I want to fucking head this…”
###“Consider this an official warning delivered in person, Purified. Turn from your path. End it. You CAN not win. You WILL not win… Should you follow through, we WILL destroy you.”###
With a flash of his aura, Khalid threw him off, unconsciously brushing shards of the mirror off his shoulder. “You CAN’T head this off. It is GOING to happen. It has ALREADY been set into place. Something may or may not happen along the way, but THIS is certain.”
“How the hell do you know? How can you call it for sure! It has not…”
“I… just… know.” He dropped his aura.
“What is going on, Khalid?”
“I’m not saying any more.”
“If you want to throw your life away, that is up to you… but damn it, don’t drag everyone…”
“You don’t have a fucking clue what is going on, so don’t you come preaching to me.” Khalid said.
“Preaching is one of the things I do best… so why the HELL don’t you open your mouth and TELL me what the fuck is going on?!”
“I can’t.”
“Then you remember… WHATEVER comes up, you bring on yourself. We can’t help you if you won’t let us…” Angrily, he walked out of the locker room.
Khalid waited until he heard the electronic sliding door slam shut and then sat down on one of the intact benches. “Not even if I let you…”
End Part X
Scenes: Part XI: The End
White Court
“Let’s just say, Mr. Edwards, that you are joining the Hellfire Club in a state of transition.”
“Transition?” Jermaine looked out the window of the limousine at the entrance to the White Court estate in New York, not quite sure what he expected to see. A wrought iron gate. Of course… ALL rich people have wrought iron gates. People walking around the estate in neatly pressed uniforms, pruning and keeping up the lawn. Four people were stationed at the gate. Security guards, he assumed. As they passed the security checkpoint, he began to get a better idea of what this was. “From what to what?”
“As for where we have been, that will be part of your orientation,” Casey Jones said. “As to where we are going, that will partly be up to you. There is a general blueprint of what we want this to actually become, but the means are up to you.”
“That’s reassuring…” he said sarcastically.
“You have no idea,” Angelo said. “It’s a different creature altogether from what it used to be.” The driver opened the limo door in front of the entrance to the main hall. “Why don’t you step out and go see for yourself?”
The three of them left the limo and started toward the main entrance. One of the two armed doorman hit a button which caused the solid oak double door to move inward, apparently of its own volition. Standing twenty feet inside the lobby was a man, dressed aptly in white with a knowing smirk on his face.
“So who’s the Backstreet Boy?” Jermaine asked.
Ozymandias, the man projected into Jermaine’s head. Your new supervisor.
“What the hell did I just get myself into?”
-------------------
Black Court
Phantom sat on top of the jeep, swishing his tail back and forth as he watched Justin and Rhiannon embrace and whisper jokes back and forth to each other. The way the two of them went about it was so “lovey-dovey,” it made him sick. Granted, they were always crazy about each other, but they never took it to that extreme.
Rogue and Greg each leaned on the jeep, looking back and forth between each other and the couple acting all “couply” just a few feet away from them. Rune stood behind them, watching in disgust… and a little bit of sadness. She was a friend and she was walking away from them, quite possibly for good.
“I’m going to miss all of you so much,” she said. “You guys are family in just about every sense of the word, but now I’m going to have to look over things with my other family.”
“I’m going to miss you,” Justin said. “And those late-night games of shag…”
“And I’m going to miss those spatula jokes… and the pranks we were pulling on Strong Towers…” Rhiannon answered. “E-mail?”
“You got it… and don’t be surprised if I pop up in New Orleans now and then.”
“Oh… I’ll know before you even show up and have the red carpet all rolled for you.” One more time, she kissed him and then hopped into the driver’s seat of the jeep, after hugging everyone gathered. “You guys got my number.”
“Take care, Rhiannon…” Rogue said. “And practice those cartwheels like I said.”
“And before you go…” Greg placed a heavy box in the back of the jeep. “Just a little going away present.”
“I don’t drink coffee, Greg.”
“Doesn’t mean some of those thieves down there won’t!”
“Just one last thing, Rhiannon,” Justin said, holding out his hand. “Can you please hand back the watch you slid off my wrist? I don’t want to explain to Khalid where his watch went.”
Rhiannon smiled, tossing Justin the watch and then started up the jeep. Phantom hopped in through the skylight and dropped down in the passenger seat. “Oh what… You aren’t going to ask for your wallet back?”
“Nah,” he said. “Everything in there is fake, anyway. I’ll just take it back when I come visit you in New Orleans.”
“Take care, everyone… You too, Rune!” she said, speeding the jeep away down the road. The four of them watched it go down the access road until it grew small. Rogue, Greg, and Rune turned to go back inside the mansion while Justin looked on when suddenly they were all jerked in their places by the sound of a massive boom.
“Rhiannon?” Justin said? Without missing a beat, he sprinted down the path trying to close the distance… praying that what he heard was not what he thought he heard.
Rogue, with Greg in tow, actually reached the jeep first, only to see a burning pile of what was once a vehicle. She started toward the jeep, but an explosion knocked the two of them off their feet.
“RHIANNON??!!” Justin screamed, lunging for the car. He dashed toward the fireball, ripping away the door. Phantom… he saw Phantom… unconscious. He grabbed the cat, carefully tucking him inside his arm to shield him as much as possible from the smoke and flames. He didn’t see Rhiannon. He didn’t see her at all! He started to look even more, when Greg and Rune pulled him back away from the truck. Reluctantly, he let himself get dragged just before the jeep exploded yet again. The four of them hit the ground hard from the impact.
When he opened his eyes, Justin saw an arrow beside his head, with a letter addressed specifically to him. “Darkwolf – You took something from me… so I took something from you. I can be persuaded to trade…” It wasn’t signed. It wasn’t signed at all.
Whoever took Outburst had just made the biggest – and LAST – mistake of his life.
-----------------------
There were some things that he just did not like about the White Rook position. What did rooks do? They oversaw the day to day operations of the court. Organizational matters. Mailroom. Payroll. Maintenance. Groundskeeping. Requisitions. Infirmary. Stuff like that. Mostly, it was paperwork. Everything that was approved had to cross his desk. One part of the job was that he had to check in on things from time to time…
The mailroom was especially busy in the mornings, shortly after the delivery trucks arrive. A staff of twenty spent the entire day sorting, organizing, delivering mail to and from the respective areas in the court. Khalid walked through the mailroom watching everyone at work. Nothing different. People doing what they were supposed to do. Everything was running smoothly as usual.
Just as he was about to leave the room, the headache hit him. With a flash of the eyes, he turned toward the door. Some of the sorters stopped, seeing the pained expression on his face as he looked toward the door. He didn’t say a word, because he knew that no one else could see the “visitor” but him. He just wish it was as easy for him to hide his contempt for this man… this man that dared insult him by copying his very appearance.
They looked back and forth from Khalid and the door trying to see what he was looking at, but they were just as confused as ever. Before anyone could ask any questions, he went out the door, walking “through” his visitor. He started down the hall, keeping his growling to himself. He didn’t even have to look to see that the visitor was there.
What’s wrong, Khalid… You don’t feel like talking to an old friend?
“Get out of my head. You made your point,” he said, not turning to meet him. “And choose another fucking form.”
I’m just reminding you where I came from.
Khalid backhanded the man and then grabbed him by the neck. The man, although he felt it, didn’t move. He just sat there laughing as loud as he could, safely knowing that no one except Khalid could hear him. Khalid growled at him squeezing tightly on his neck. “I know EXACTLY where you came from, and it isn’t from me!”
Not yet… but soon…
Khalid shoved him away and continued down the hall. He could see some of the workers around looking at him, puzzling at his behavior. The visitor laughed even louder.
You would love to kill me… WOULDN’T you? A crowd of people gathered near the ends of the hall, each of them talking among themselves.
“Get back to work!” Khalid barked out. “Soliloquy’s over.” As the crowds dispersed, Khalid dropped into one of the nearby chairs, his eyes glaring intently at the demon that only he could see… that DARED to copy his form.
You can kill me, Khalid… right now… You know where to find me. You know how to find me.
Unknown to either of them, there was a man standing at the end of the hall who witnessed the conversation between both of them. The White Pawn Diablo stroked his goatee silently. The Hellstone medallion dangling from his neck flashed a deep shade of red.
Mallefus laughed as he faded away. See you in your nightmares, Khalid…
The End