“We already know that Fitzroy, Scribe and Mountjoy are likely to be present,” Scott continued. Storm had briefed the rest of the team on the previous night’s events. “Rogue, I hate to ask you this, but I think you’re our best chance against Mountjoy. After last time, he should think twice about using his power against you. You need to hit him hard and fast, get him out of the picture before he can get his hands on anyone else.”
Rogue nodded. “I can do that, with pleasure.”
“What if he’s already hiding inside someone again?” asked Nightcrawler.
“I’ll perform a telepathic sweep as soon as we’re inside the building,” said Phoenix. “By all accounts, Mountjoy doesn’t control the mind of his host; I should be able to detect both his thoughts and theirs, as two separate patterns. I’ll point him out to Rogue.”
“Against Scribe,” said Cyclops, “we need a good hand-to-hand fighter, someone who can match her reflexes. Wolverine ...”
Wolverine shook his head. “Got me a score to settle with Fitzroy. He’s mine!”
Cyclops scowled, and was about to remind Logan once again who was leading the X-Men when Nightcrawler jumped in to defuse the situation: “Scribe should be easy enough to deal with, if we double-team her. I can keep her busy while Bobby piles ice around her feet. That should slow her down.”
“Suits me,” said Iceman.
Cyclops decided not to make an issue of Wolverine’s intransigence, this time. “Which leaves the rest of us to deal with however many mercenaries the Hellfire Club can throw at us,” he said, “keep them off the others’ backs while they handle the big guns.”
“Gave yourself the easy job, I see, boss-man,” remarked Wolverine. “Should be like shooting fish in a barrel.” Cyclops ignored him. He was only tiying to provoke a reaction.
“However,” he continued, “we should be aware that Fitzroy has had plenty of time to call in reinforcements by now.”
“Sebastian Shaw,” said Phoenix, unhappily.
“Shaw likes to remain in the background,” said Storm. “He doesn’t usually involve himself in combat situations. If he does, however, then I believe I can handle him. He may have the ability to absorb kinetic force, but I can strike him with electrical energy.” “Makes sense,” said Cyclops. “But if Shaw does turn up, he might have his personal assistant, Tessa, with him. She isn’t one for brawling either, but we have to be prepared. She might decide to make an exception.”
“Tessa’s psi-powers are no match for my own,” said Phoenix. “If it comes to a battle between us, I can take her. But I suspect I’ll have other problems.” She said the words with a hint of resignation, and Scott’s heart ached to hear them. He looked at his wife, and she smiled back at him bravely. It’s all right, Scott, she told him, mind to mind. You can mention her name. Aloud, for the benefit of the others, she said: “Madelyne Piyor’s abilities are equal to my own, but I have the edge in experience. At the very least, I can keep her occupied until the rest of the Lords Cardinal have been dealt with.”
“Good for you, Jeannie,” said Wolverine. “As for Tessa, she ain’t a fighter. Trick with her is to knock her down before she can worm her way into your head.”
Cyclops nodded. “If both telepaths are present, Jean, forget Tesssa and concentrate on ... Pryor.” He had hesitated, just fractionally, before saying her name. She had always been ‘Maddie’ to him. He hoped the others hadn’t noticed, although Jean certainly would have. “In that eventuality, Tessa becomes my responsibility.” Wolverine was right: Tessa’s threat could be ended with one optic blast, if only he could locate her and strike quickly enough.
“Looks like we got a plan then,” said Wolverine. “I vote we strike now. Sooner we do it, the less time those suckers’ve got to prepare.”
“Kurt, can you ’port back to the hotel and wake Hank?” asked Cyclops.
“Jawohl, mein fearless leader,” said Nightcrawler, with a mock salute. The others crowded around him, preventing the few other diners in the cafe from seeing as he vanished into thin air. Cyclops couldn’t help but wonder, however, what any onlooker might make of the sound and the brimstone smell of his teleportation effect.
The X-Men frnished their breakfasts in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts of the battle to come. Cyclops was playing through various possibilities in his mind, ensuring as far as possible that he was prepared for any eventuality, that he wouldn’t lose control.
Then Nightcrawler returned, hurrying through the glass door from the street, still in his Errol Flynn disguise, having apparently teleported back to a discreet spot nearby rather than risking materializing where he might be seen. And Cyclops could tell, from the expression on his illusory face, that something was wrong. Something for which he hadn’t prepared.
“He’s gone!” Nightcrawler blurted out in a low voice, as soon as he was near enough to the table for the others to hear. “Hank’s gone!”
“What do you mean?” asked Cyclops, urgently.
“He wasn’t in the hotel room. And he hasn’t been there for the last thirty minutes at least. The beds have been made up, so I checked with the cleaners. They haven’t seen hide nor hair of him, no pun intended.” “Thirty minutes?” repeated Phoenix.
“More than long enough for him to have joined us here,” said Rogue, “and I can’t imagine where else he would have gone.”
“Ain’t it obvious?” grunted Wolverine. “The Hellfire Club are picking us off one by one. Looks like we got us two hostages to rescue now.”
The costumed mercenaries were taking no chances. Four of them held on to the Beast, as four more covered him with their guns. They had wrestled him to the floor, but they lifted him to his knees as Trevor Fitzroy entered the Hellfire Club’s ballroom, the boots of his bulky bio-armor thudding heavily into the thick carpet. More agents followed at his heels, along with a white-haired woman who could only have been the Red Rook, Scribe.
“Well, well, wrell, what do we have here?* said Fitzroy, in a mocking tone. “One of our enemies, delivering himself into my hands. To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“You expressed it eloquently enough yourself, Fitzroy,” said the Beast. “I came here of my own volition, and allowed your rent-a-mob extras to believe they had overpowered me, because I wished to speak to you. It isn’t necessary to engage in heavy-handed tactics.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, 1 think. What kind of a trap are you planning to spring here?”
“No trap,” the Beast assured him. “I merely want to get a message to your Black King.”
“A plea for the return of your associate, no doubt. I don’t think so, X-Man. You’ve got nothing to say to the Lords Cardinal that we want to hear.”
“I think we should let Mr. Shaw make that decision for himself," came a new voice.
The Beast recognized the woman known only as Tessa, as she swept into the room. She was young and slight of form, but Hank knew her power resided in her mind, not her body. Her black hair was piled up on top of her head, and she looked the very model of efficiency in a stylish black trouser suit.
“Shaw left me in charge while he was gone,” said Fitzroy, pointedly.
“And he sent me to investigate the situation here,” countered Tessa. Fitzroy was a member of the Inner Circle, and therefore technically Tessa’s superior. Hank wouldn’t have guessed it, though, from the young woman’s demeanor. She had always been loyal to Sebastian Shaw-almost uniquely so—for as long as the X-Men had known them both. But, increasingly it seemed, she had little time for his associates. The Beast saw the barely disguised contempt in which she held Fitzroy, who was probably a few years her junior. He wondered if he might be able to use that rift against them both in the future.
“The situation,” growled Fitzroy, “is that I’ve fought off the X-Men, as Shaw wanted, and now I’ve captured one of them. I think I can deal with him myself.”
“He’s telling the truth, Mr. Fitzroy,” said Tessa, scornfully. “I can see it in his mind. He
didn’t come here to fight. His teammates don’t even know where he is.” •
“So, we kill him before they find out!”
“They won’t. I’ve constructed a psi-shield around his mind. Even Phoenix won’t be able to detect his thoughts now. Not from a distance. He’s on his own.” As Fitzroy fumed in silence, Tessa stalked across the room and crouched down in front of the Beast, bringing her eyes level with his. “Now, little man, you said you had a message for my employer?”
The Beast returned her stare levelly. “I know what Shaw’s plans are,” he said. He was bluffing: he couldn’t be sure that his deductions were correct.
“Do you indeed? And the X-Men intend to stop him, I suppose?” “Maybe. But, as you have already inferred, I came here without their knowledge, and for an entirely different purpose.”
Tessa grinned unexpectedly. “I know. You’re here because you have come to think as I do: that Sebastian Shaw is mutantkind’s best hope.”
The Beast blanched at this unequivocal statement. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Oh, come now, Doctor McCoy. Does it shock you so much to hear your unspoken thoughts vocalized for the first time?”
She had a point, Hank couldn’t deny it. Like Selene, Tessa had exposed what he was thinking, what he had hardly dared to admit to himself. Ever since his return to Muir Island, ever since he had found both Moira and her files missing, an idea had been building in his mind. A crazy idea; perhaps, in some ways, an unworthy one. But, as each piece of the jigsaw puzzle of Moira’s disappearance had slotted into place, as the schemes of the Hellfire Club had been gradually revealed, it had become more and more natural. More insistent.
A few days ago, he would never have dreamed of coming here like this, of dealing with the X-Men’s enemies. But then, a few days ago, William Montgomery had still been alive.
And so, Hank McCoy had walked into the clutches of the Hellfire Club, afraid of being proved wrong, and so ashamed of his o wn decision that he hadn’t been able to face his friends with the truth. He was taking a huge gamble, but every fiber of his being screamed at him that he had to do this. And yet, he still couldn’t bring himself to say the words, because saying them would expose his guilt, and make the decision too real.
“Come on,” coaxed Tessa, “why don’t you say it? Put Trevor here out of his misery.”
“You’re right,” said Hank, reluctantly, casting his eyes down towards the floor. “I think Shaw might be our best hope. Our best hope for a cure to the Legacy Vims. And I’m committed to finding that cure, whatever it takes, whatever I might have to do.”
“Say it,” Tessa whispered in his ear. “Tell us why you came here.” “I want you to inform Shaw ...” He hesitated then, and took a deep breath, steeling himself, before he let out the treacherous words at last. “... that I might be prepared to offer him my services.”
I STILL SAY it’s a trap,” said Trevor Fitzroy, irritably. He led the way down the deep-carpeted corridor, not looking at Tessa, who lagged two steps behind him. He resented her presence here. Had she not turned up-had Shaw not sent her to spy on him, despite his assurances that he could deal with the X-Men himself-then one of his enemies would have been dead already. As it was, this glorified secretary had had Scribe and Mountjoy take the Beast downstairs to a holding cell, while his fate was decided. He had gone without a fight, but he must have been feeling quite pleased with himself. He was getting what he wanted.
Tessa's office was next to Shaw’s. Fitzroy tried to open the door, but it was locked. He sulked, as he was forced to step back and let her come forward with the key. “I told you, Mr. Fitzroy,” she said, with an infuriating hint of condescension in her voice, “I’ve scanned his mind. The Beast’s offer is sincere. He truly believes what he is saying.”
“Then that psionic witch, Phoenix, has done something to him. She’s disguised his thoughts somehow. You’re supposed to be the bloody telepath around here, can’t you see that?”
Tessa nodded. “It is possible. It’s also possible that Doctor McCoy has simply chosen to see things our way. He wants to cure the Legacy Virus as badly as we do.”
They walked into the office, and Tessa took a seat behind her desk. Fitzroy remained on his feet, pacing up and down. He had sent his bio-armor back to its other-dimensional pocket of reality, where it awaited his mental command to protect him again. In the meantime, he was clad in a black and white, high-collared bodysuit. “He wants us to believe him. He wants us to take him to the facility-and, mark my words, his teammates will follow.”
“Perhaps,” acknowledged Tessa, thoughtfully.
“Even if he is telling the truth, it won’t stop the X-Men from looking for him.”
“I’m still concealing his thought patterns.”
“Oh, sure, that’ll throw them off the track, won’t it?” scoffed Fitzroy. “I mean, it's not like they’ll ever think of coming here, is it?” “That’s why we need to make a decision quickly. We must remove the Beast from this building, one way or the other.”
“Then we kill him. It’s not worth the risk of keeping him alive.” “It might be.”
“We don’t need him!”
Tessa shook her head. “That, I’m afraid, is where you are wrong. If he is sincere about helping with our project, then his defection couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. He could prove very useful to us.”
“How? Shaw’s already got the MacTaggert woman!”
“She wouldn’t cooperate. We need a replacement, and McCoy would be ideal.”
Fitzroy ceased his pacing, and pulled at his lower lip, stubbornly. This was news to him, and it changed everything. Clearly, Tessa thought their captive could make the difference between success and failure for the project. If she thought so, then doubtless Shaw did too. And, much as he hated to acknowledge the fact, Fitzroy dared not go against Shaw.
He remembered Wolverine’s taunts, and knew that much of what he had said was painfully true. When Fitzroy had first come to this time, he had been running from a life in which he was nobody; from a father who took sadistic delight in humiliating him and making him look small. Here, he had thought, his advanced technology and his knowledge of things to come could give him an edge. He could gain power, respect and wealth.
Instead, he had been soundly beaten, several times over. He had even been left for dead by the gang of mutant terrorists known as X-Force.
Fitzroy played the long game now. He worked for people like Selene and Shaw because they could give him a taste of what he desired. But it was a temporaiy measure. When he had traveled back in time, this brash young mutant had promised himself that he would never be subservient to anyone again. He longed for the day when he would control the Hellfire Club, or an organization like it, himself.
Until then, he had to rein in his impatience, curb his frustration. He couldn’t afford to get on the wrong side of his current benefactors. Not while he still had a use for them.
“Unfortunately,” said Tessa, “the communications blackout is still in force. We cannot contact Sebastian to request instructions. However, I believe he would want us to take the Beast to him. Don’t you agree?” She looked at Fitzroy with an arched eyebrow, as if challenging him to argue. He didn’t know why she had invited him to discuss the matter at all. She was just going through the motions of Hellfire Club protocol. She had already made up her mind, and she would get her own way.
“You really think he’ll help us find a cure?” he asked, delaying the inevitable.
“Yes,” said Tessa, “I think he will. There’s a chance, at least-and I thought you, Mr. Fitzroy, of all people, would want to take every chance you could get.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your greatest asset in the twenty-first century is your foreknowledge—but the Legacy Virus isn’t a part of your past, is it? It was created by a mutant from beyond your era: somebody who, like you, traveled back in time and made a difference. This isn’t quite the world you read about in
your history books. It must be very discomforting for you, to watch this plague spread without knowing when or how it will end.”
Fitzroy grunted a reluctant agreement to that, smarting at the unspoken implication. Shaw had appointed him to his Inner Circle specifically because he knew of events that had not yet happened. The more those events were distorted, the less recognizable this era was to him, and the more dispensable he would become.
He bit his lip, dropped himself into a seat and said, resignedly: “So, we do what the X-Man wants, I suppose. We take him to Shaw.” “I think so,” said Tessa. “In the meantime, I have been authorized to suspend all operations here in Hong Kong. The Lords Cardinal will regroup at the island facility, and remain there until the project is concluded.”
“What? Why?”
“Because the X-Men will almost certainly attack this headquarters again, and we can only lose personnel and equipment by attempting to defend it. Better to let them find an empty building, and search it to their hearts’ content. They will find nothing.” “Sounds to me like we’re giving in to them,” grumbled Fitzroy.
“While they waste precious time, we can be long gone from here.”
“Right. The sooner we leave, then, the better. I absorbed enough energy from Wolverine last night. I reckon 1 can open a portal directly to the island.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I came here in the helicopter. We need to take it back.”
“But the X-Men—”
“The X-Men don’t know we have their teammate. Yes, they might well find a way to follow us. But, if and when that happens-” Tessa smiled tightly. “We’ll deal with it.”
They’re leaving the building. Three.. .no, four.. .five... a whole string of black limousines, coming out of an underground garage.
The Legacy Quest Trilogy Page 13
