Note: This is the last little bit of story before everything goes to hell in
parts 5 & 6.  If you've been waiting for mindless violence and loads of
unpleasantness, your patience is soon to be rewarded.

Disclaimer: Virtually all of the characters appearing in this story are the
property of Marvel comics, and are used without permission.  They are used
here for entertainment purposes only.  Additionally, this story is written
for non-profit purposes only.  This is probably for the best, as it's
unlikely anyone this side of the Aiel Waste would pay a bloody cent for it.

____________________________________

The Inner Circle : Smoke and Ashes - Part Four
____________________________________

    Things had a strange way of not working out for Donald Pierce.  Not for
lack of trying, of course.  Things used to go his way all the time, from the
days when he was just getting his start in the world through just about the
time he helped overthrow the Council of Chosen and forge the very first
Inner Circle.  It wasn't until after these earlier, triumphant days that
life began slapping Donald around at regular intervals.  There was the
travesty with the X-men and their telepath, Phoenix.  Around the time of
that fiasco, the Inner Circle came to be little more than a gathering place
for rich and powerful mutants to scheme and plan, and he had no place in
such an organization.  Shortly after departing the group he suffered what
was perhaps his most humiliating defeat of all, at the hands of a
pre-pubescent group of superheroes known as Power Pack.

    Life remained poor, and several lost battles awaited him even as he
gained more allies on his side.  No sooner than fate had once more begun to
smile upon him, with the ousting of those troublesome X-men from his base in
Australia, the most severe set-back of all reared its ugly head.  His highly
trained and cybernetically enhanced minions, the Reavers, were destroyed by
Sentinels.  He himself was captured, dissected, and his head was kept for a
time as a trophy of this conquest.  Even more humiliating, his captor then
turned around and sold his body parts to the organization known as Operation
Zero Tolerance.  These 'benefactors' rebuilt him, programming into him their
own directives and keeping him under relatively close watch.

    Despite this lack of freedom, once again things were going his way.  He
rebuilt his Reavers and acquired certain valuable information before his new
base was destroyed by the mercenary known as Domino.  It was but a moderate
set-back this time, and he quickly made another large gain for himself when
Zero Tolerance spiraled out of control and they lost track of his comings
and goings.  His luck further increased when he earned the ear of Sebastian
Shaw.  The man had grown tired of working with new faces that could,
perhaps, not be trusted.  He recruited Donald temporarily into the Inner
Circle to help him in the Tomorrow Project, an ultimately ill-conceived
scenario in which they had unsuccessfully attempted to steal the power of an
immortal overlord known as Apocalypse.  With this failure had also gone his
chances of earning a place in Sebastian's Inner Circle.  Now Shinobi Shaw
had given him a chance to regain his membership in the Lords Cardinal, deal
with Sebastian for his impertinence, and completely destroy Trevor Fitzroy
for the indignities the former Upstart had heaped upon him.

    The woman seated across from him had her own motives, though for once
they were compatable with Donald's.  This had been rare even in the day when
they regarded one another as allies.  That was, Donald would not have been
unhappy to say, a day long passed.  Tonight their fates were bound by a
common need for revenge against the man who had literally destroyed their
lives and not by any sense of allegiance to one another.

    Emma Frost was a lovely woman, as much so now as she was six years ago
when they worked together in the Inner Circle.  Like so many other things in
nature, Emma was as deadly as she was beautiful.  Numerous men had
underestimated her at their peril, and Donald had managed to avoid trouble
by observing what became of others who managed to earn her ire.  He knew she
was ambitious, and absolutely ruthless in reaching her goals.  Once her mind
was set upon something she pursued it with unflagging conviction until
victory was hers.

    Looking at her now, he was once again stricken by her cold, unearthly
beauty.  Her platinum hair framed a pale, serious face.  There was a hard,
unforgiving edge to it that made apparent she was as determined as he to go
through with the attack against the Hellfire Club.  That made things easier.
Mutants in general were not to be trusted, save for when their goals and
yours just happened to coincide with one another.

    Donald cleared his throat and tucked his napkin over his lap.

    "I'm sorry," he said, addressing their little party's third member.
"Could you repeat what you just said?  I can't have heard you correctly."

    The black-haired woman seated between he and Emma at the booth cocked
her head in his direction.  Having introduced herself simply as Damask, and
as Ms. Steed when asked for elaboration, she was to help them infiltrate the
Hellfire Club undetected and aid them in the assault.  Unfortunately, the
strategy she had apparently adopted to do just that was severely flawed.

    "You heard what I said," Damask answered.  "And before you get your
panties in a bunch, hear me out."

    "Are you insane?" Donald hissed, attempting to keep his voice low.  The
dining room was divided into several faintly lit areas that might have been
regarded as romantic, and each booth provided a good amount of privacy.
Still, it wouldn't do for them to be overheard here.  As he well knew, the
Inner Circle had eyes and ears everywhere. "Your idea of a surprise attack
is walking through the front door?  The front door!  The whole idea is for
them to NOT be expecting us!  We're not here for a potluck, you know."

    "It is," Emma observed dryly, "a bit of a stretch."

    "I told you to hear me out," Damask snapped.  "I know the Club backwards
and forwards, and if you entertain any hope of success tonight you will shut
your mouths and listen."

    Donald tightened his fist around the napkin in his lap, the cloth
crumpling around his fingers.  They were fingers that had enough strength in
them to crush solid steel.  Placing it on the woman's knee and applying a
bit of pressure would change her tune quickly enough.  Impertinence was one
thing Donald Pierce had no patience for.  If she continued in her
disrespectful manner, she would regret it.

    "I think he has a valid concern," Emma said.  "We really can't risk
being identified."

    "The Club is expecting visitors to come and go throughout the evening.
The Inner Circle itself might be small and secretive, but as I'm sure you
both know there are lesser royalty and the occasional odd member who's been
permitted a glimpse at the Club's inner workings.  Tonight, with a visitor
from what for all intents and purposes should be a rival Circle, certain
lesser ranked members of the Lords Cardinal will be expected to be in
attendance."

    "And you're one of these individuals?" Donald asked skeptically.

    She gazed at him coldly with her dark eyes.  "No, I'm not."

    He sighed in exasperation.  "Then I fail to see the point of any of
this.  Can you help us get in or not?"

    "I told you to listen," Damask replied.  "Shut your mouth and hear me
out, or we'll have blown our chance by the time I finish explaining."

    His hands twitched under the table.  He closed his fingers over the
cushioned bench beneath him, applying pressure until he felt the wood
beneath begin to crackle faintly.  Emma gave him a stern look and shook her
head.  He hated the reminder of her mutation.  Obviously she'd picked up on
the agitation that was no doubt rolling off of her in waves.

    "I apologize, Ms. Steed," he said through gritted teeth.  "Please,
continue."

     "As I was saying, the doormen will be expecting members to come and go
throughout the evening.  What Mr. Pierce has apparently forgotten is that
the Inner Circle is a secret organization, and the doormen themselves have
no knowledge of its existance or its membership.  For all intents and
purposes, I have as valid a reason to attend this function as anyone else.
Moreso, perhaps.  Until only recently I was Black Queen, and some of the
servants, while ignorant of the specifics, know that I was a person of some
importance. So far as they know, I still am.  My showing up, and bringing
along two unrecognized guests, will stir little water.  Unless Shaw and his
friends have some reason to be expecting the two of you in particular, I
doubt we'll have any trouble at all."

    Donald let his grip relax somewhat.  He found it impossible to argue
with a single one of her points.  Still, it complicated matters.  Of all his
Reavers, only Pretty Boy could successfully imitate a normal person.  The
others were rather more obviously cybernetic.  They'd thus far managed to
conceal their presence in the city via the usage of a van, but they would
never make it past sentries unless Emma used her telepathy, and even then
there was no guarantee.  The Club most likely had surveillance cameras that
the illusion would not fool.

    "Surely there's a less obvious way in."

    "What?  You were expecting secret underground tunnels that just happened
to lead directly to the Inner Circle's meeting chambers?  I don't think so,
Mr. Pierce.  This isn't a movie."

    Pierce's planned retort was interrupted by a chirping at his waste.
Sparing a glare for the dark-haired woman he removed his portable phone from
it's casing at his hip, snapped up the antenna, and answered.

    "Hello," he said simply, tone free of possible identifying inflection.

    "They're at the Oak and Thistle, boss," Pretty Boy's voice came over the
phone.  He was right on time for his fifteen minute update.  "Arrived there
a few moments ago."

    "Thank you.  That's splendid to know.  Is it populated?"

    Damask raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at Emma, who shrugged.

    "There are a few others in there.  I'm planning on going in for a look
around.  I think I can pull the van into the alleyway and let us in through
the back."

    "Good.  Get to it then, please."

    "Yes, sir," came the obligatory responce.  He deactivated the phone and
replaced it at his hip.

    "Well," he said, leaning back in his chair.  "You'll be happy to know
that my men are preparing to engage Fitzroy and Madelyne in a restaurant not
far from here."

    "What?" Emma asked, her expression suddenly intent.  "Fitzroy's not at
the Club?"

    "No, he left before I arrived here to--"

    "Where is he?" Emma demanded.  Damask reached out with a restraining
hand and laid it on her arm.  "He's been out by himself all this time and
you somehow neglected to tell me?"

    "Please, Emma, let Pierce's men handle them.  They're insignificant.
It's Sebastian and Selene who need to occupy our full attention."

    "Insignificant?" Emma snarled, snatching her arm out of Damask's grip.
"Fitzroy's the ONLY reason I'm even here.  The rest of the Inner Circle is
YOUR problem."

    Pierce was stunned.

    "Emma, we have to--"

    "Where is he, Donald?" Emma asked in a voice that was little more than a
whisper.  "I know how you dislike my 'gift', and it would be a shame to have
to rip the answers I want out of your simple-minded little brain."

    "The Oak and Thistle," he said.  "But we can go there AFTER we deal with
the others."

    "To Hell with the others!" Emma snapped, and left the table without
saying another word.  Donald and Damask sat there in stunned silence,
watching as she barreled past another customer on her way out the door.

    "Well," Damask said at last.  "She certainly is... headstrong."

    "Yes," he replied weakly, his own voice sounding far away.  His mind was
racing.  "I suppose we could help her engage them at the restaurant first."

    "And risk the Circle being notified somehow that two of their members
are under attack?  No, we have to act now.  We don't have much time left.
We have two agents on the inside that are expecting us any moment now, and
we don't to keep them waiting, now do we?"

    Donald opened the phone and hit the button that would put him in contact
with the Reavers, wanting them to know that Emma was on her way.  He'd been
counting on her help in this.  Now he only hoped the element of surprise
would prove sufficient to get the job done, or they were doomed before they
started.  He wondered, briefly.  How might he fare with Sebastian if he
betrayed Shinobi and handed the elder Shaw the Manhattan Circle on a silver
platter?  Crazy thoughts.  He'd burnt his bridges with Sebastian, and he
still wanted Fitzroy's head on a pike.  This was the only way.  He just
prayed that it would work.  This Damask was a mutant, and if the two agents
she spoke of inside the Club were mutants, they might fare rather well.  He
expected one of them was Shinobi's associate Martine, but as for the other
he had no idea.  He only hoped they were trustworthy, and that they'd kept
their secrets safe from Club telepaths.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Martine was seated at a large circular table, hands clasped before her
on the black, swirled marble tabletop.  There were six chairs set around
that table, each set three feet from one another and each one occupied.  A
pale-skinned, pale-haired woman in white robes sat to Martine's left.  Known
only as Scribe, she had said little and appeared to be present solely as an
observer.  A strange, luminous globe of blue-white light hung suspended
before her.  Tessa, who had defected a few months ago from Shinobi's Inner
Circle, was in turn seated to Scribe's left.  Likewise, proceeding around
the circle, was the mythic sorceress known only as Selene, Sebastian Shaw
himself, and Benedict Kine, who sat just to Martine's right.  All were
dressed as befitted members of the Inner Circle, in clothing suitable to the
period of time that had come to be known as the Victorian Era.  The sole
possible exception was Selene, who wore just enough to keep from being
completely indecent.  Martine smirked inwardly.  The simple, singular
addition of a whip would serve to make that raven-haired woman look more a
dominatrix than any sort of conventional royalty.  Strangely enough, the
look was something of a tradition amongst Queens of the Hellfire Club.

    "As I'm sure Tessa's already informed you, Shinobi's performance as
leader has been somewhat less than exemplary."

    Martine nodded at Benedict's words.  He'd filled her in on his plan
shortly before they arrived, told her what she needed to know to make the
meeting flow smoothly, and what he was willing to offer to make his
negotiations successful.  It was good to know, if they were to get these
people to help him.  It would also be good to know when she contacted
Shinobi later and filled him in on the evening's events.

    "Even before Candra's disappearance," Benedict continued, "the
organization was on the verge of complete collapse.  Now the few of us who
remain are at one another's throats constantly.  The situation is rapidly
becoming highly unstable."

    "It would be too much to hope that Candra managed to get herself
killed," Selene mused.  Her eyes were dark, burning coals. "Are you sure she
and Shinobi haven't set this up?"

    "I think you're giving them both too much credit," Benedict said.

    Tessa turned her head to address Selene and Sebastian both.  She laid a
hand gently upon two file folders laid before her on the table.

    "When I was a part of Shinobi's Circle, every day seemed a constant
stuggle to keep the various members from killing each other.  I have no
reason to believe that my departure has made the situation any better."

    "And it hasn't," Benedict affirmed.   "If anything, your presence served
as a balance to keep things from spinning completely out of control.
Shinobi's grown even more reclusive and disagreeable over the past few
months.   He's begun to exclude me from some of the Club's projects, and
ignores me most of the time in general.  As the White King, I feel that this
some of his activities are things I should be made aware of.  I don't feel
that it's unreasonable for me to be looking out for the Circle's best
interest."

    "You make it sound as if Shinobi doesn't trust you," Sebastian said,
voice tight.  They were the first words he'd spoken since they sat down at
the table, and there was a brief moment of silence in their wake.

    "Being suspicious hasn't made him any smarter, if that's what you're
implying," Martine said.  "He doesn't have any evidence suggestive of
wrong-doing on Mr. Kine's part, and even if he did he'd be hard pressed to
get anyone to agree to do anything about it."

    Tessa was giving her an unpleasant look.  Martine returned it and the
other woman dropped her eyes, studing the folders in front of her a little
too intently.  *You whore,* Martine thought to herself.  *I hope you give
yourself a headache.*  Martine's mutation, if it could be called that, made
her something of a psionic non-entity.  For all intents and purposes she was
'cloaked' to telepathy, not registering as even being present in the room.
Selene was supposedly telepathic, but if she'd noticed the inability to
access Martine's thoughts she gave no indication.  Of course, it had been
rude of Tessa to attempt to read her mind to begin with.  Undoubtedly,
however, Sebastian had asked her to do just that in order to ascertain the
veracity of their claims, and the levels to which they could be trusted.
Benedict's mind was no doubt an open book, but then again he really had
nothing to hide from these people.

    "In short," Benedict said, looking at Sebastian, "he's proven an
absolute failure as Black King.  Some of us, remembering the days when YOU
were in charge, have remarked that you actually knew how to get things done.
It's a skill that's sorely missed, and has been since you were unrightfully
ousted from the club."

    "Which should not come as a surprise to anyone," Sebastian answered.
Despite the comment, there was no indication in his tone that the statement
was anything more or less than absolute fact.  They were the words of a man
who was honestly and completely certain of his own abilities.   Therein,
Martine suspected, lie the chiefmost difference between he and Shinobi.  The
younger Shaw felt the need to prove his superiority, and in so doing very
often revealed his vulnerability, and that he honestly still saw himself as
living in his father's overbearing shadow.

    "Without your guidance," Benedict continued, "the Hellfire Club was
rudderless.  It had no direction, and no real purpose.  Magneto and Storm
leeched all the life out of it, making it a mere shadow of the powerful
organization it had been previously.  Plans came to naught, and in the wake
of the Upstarts the remaining Lords Cardinal themselves were almost
universally eliminated."

    "And promptly almost universally got better," Tessa added with a bemused
smile.

    "The Upstarts gave the Inner Circle a much-needed wake-up call,"
Sebastian said, roughly.  "In so doing, the paved the way for my return to
power.  Shinobi's the only one of them that concerns me."

    "Let's move along, please," Selene requested tightly.  Her face was free
of emotion, but the slight edge in her voice could not have been more
apparent.  It was a poorly kept secret that she had been responcible for the
Upstart competition, seeking to remove the dead wood from the Inner Circle
and replace it with more focused and more easily manipulated individuals.
She herself had ultimately become a victem of the group, though full details
of what had befallen her had yet to be made clear.  She had evidently become
a captive of Trevor Fitzroy, and if his previous works were any indication
her stay under his roof had to have been anything but pleasant.

    "Of course," Benedict said, smiling in a condescending manner.  "As you
know, I didn't cross the pond for this secret meeting just to exchange
tidbits of gossip, no matter how juicy.  I came to make you an offer."

    "We are aware of that," Sebastian replied.  "We wouldn't be wasting our
time here otherwise.  What we want are specifics, not vague implications."

    "Martine?"

    She straightened somewhat in her chair, eyeing the individuals gathered.
Tessa was watching her with a forked eyebrow and a slight smile of
amusement.  Martine silently cursed her and Benedict both.  She'd only been
filled in on the details a short time ago, and failed to see why Benedict
wanted her to be the one to lay them down, as she wasn't totally clear on
them herself.

    "In exchange for a promise of his retaining the White Kingship, Benedict
is willing to offer you information on the defenses of the Manhattan charter
house.  He is further willing to provide details on the identities and
abilities of the Inner Circle, as well as provide assistance in infiltrating
the organization.  Further, he is prepared to aid you in any way possible in
the removal of Shinobi Shaw from the Black Kingship."

    Sebastian remained impassive, eyeing Benedict casually.  "What makes you
think that I would require this information, much less willingly divide my
power as King with another individual?  As you so aptly pointed out earlier,
it was precisely this maneuver that led to the Inner Circle's decline to
begin with."

    "I don't doubt that you could deal with Shinobi on your own," Benedict
answered.  "But could you do it as efficiently on your own as you could with
agents acting from the inside?  Shinobi might not trust me, but he doesn't
dare impede my actions as White King.  With my access to the club, your
reclamation of it could take little more than days, or even hours.  No fuss,
no mess.  And no casualties to either side outside of those you might wish
to induce.  I believe that it's worth considering."

    "Besides which," Martine added, "Shinobi trusts me completely.  He
confides in me regarding his movements, and I think that could prove
invaluable in any action taken against him."

    Silence fell over the room, and Martine began to worry.  Neither she nor
Shinobi had taken into account the possibility that Sebastian might not be
interested in Benedict's help.  They were obviously much more focused than
Shinobi had given them credit for, and if they were as suspicious as they
seemed the ambush planned for later in the evening would likely result in
nothing more than a massacre on the wrong side.  She felt hot, and worried
that at any moment sweat would begin to bead up on her forehead.  If
anything, that would only confirm any suspicions Sebastian and his crew
might have.

    Tessa lowered her head once more to her files, and Sebastian nodded
lazily in her direction.  Martine cursed herself for a fool.  Of course
they'd been in telepathic contact with one another!  Most likely through the
entire meeting.  She impatiently reminded herself not to underestimate these
people, lest everything blow up in her face.

    "You make an intriguing case," the Black King remarked.  "You've given
us much to think about.  You are correct in believing that we can supply you
with a stronger Inner Circle, one with drive and ambition.  One united in
both direction and in belief.  Every day we make advancements, and as our
allies you may benefit from these as well.  Tessa, if you please."

    Tessa rose from the table.  Her black cloak settled around her lithe
figure and she locked gazes with Benedict.  Martine had always hated Tessa's
eyes.  They could burrow into your soul, as if rooting for your deepest
secrets.  Combined with the woman's innate brilliance, it always served to
set Martine on edge despite her immunity to telepathic invasion.  Tessa's
mutant ability seemed, quite honestly, to be no less than knowing all there
was to know about everyone, and everything.  Being very fond of her privacy,
Martine understandably felt very uncomfortable around Sebastian's
sharp-minded assistant.

    "Almost two years ago now the Hellfire Club was subject to an insidious
attack.  It came at a time when we were most vulnerable, many of us in
hiding in the face of multiple assassination attempts and other, unexpected
set-backs.  The group known as the Hellions, young mutants trained and
conditioned to pursue the Inner Circle's agendas even at the cost of their
own lives, became embroiled in this conflict and were mercilessly
slaughtered."

    The room remained quiet as Tessa began to make her way slowly around the
table, hands clasped behind her back.  Outside of her words, the only sound
in the room was that made by her footfalls on the hardwood floor.

    "More than just students and tools to be used, these young men and women
epitomized the very best in what the Hellfire Club was trying to achieve.
Of varied ethnic and national backgrounds, they truly represented the global
interests of our Circle, as well as its future.  They were not only to
serve, they were to learn until they were themselves able to take their
places amongst the elite.  It was a chance that was ultimately robbed of
them, along with their dignity and their very lives."

    Tessa strolled slowly, passing behind Martine as she spoke.  Martine
shivered despite herself.

    "I will repeat myself.  The Hellions were not mere pawns to the whims of
the Club.  They were an investment that, once it began to pay off, would
enable us to move in directions we'd never before even dared to consider.
The decline of the Circle can be traced back to Magneto, but with the
senseless murder of the Hellions, it became abundently clear that the
organization was finally well and truly dead."

    She reached her place again, having walked full-circle, and placed her
hands on the edge of her chair, leaning slightly forward to catch Benedict
and Martine both in her prying eyes.  "Until today."

    If Martine was right about where this was headed, Shinobi had in all
probability made a fatal oversight.  He'd made the assumption that Sebastian
was doing nothing more productive than he himself, and his entire plan
hinged on that belief.  Things were growing more grim by the moment.

    Tessa sat down in her chair and slid the files she'd been safeguarding
towards Martine and Benedict.  She took one and began to look over it
absently, gnawing on her inner lip as she attempted to conceal her
apprehension.  Benedict looked over the contents of his folder quite
intently, with greed and desire now more evident in his eyes than they had
been only moments earlier.

    "My god," he whispered.  "You've really done it."

    This time it was Selene who spoke.

    "Tessa and our White Rook have spent the last two weeks profiling
various members of Hellfire Youth, attempting to discern which of them may
possess mutagenic potential.  Already several likely candidates have been
recruited, the most recent brought into the fold no more than two hours ago.
More are being uncovered and contacted every day.  Despite the belief that
Europe is significantly less populated with mutants than the States, we've
found a veritable treaure trove of impressionable young mutants under our
very noses."

    "All of these children belong to Hellfire Youth?" Benedict asked,
incredulous.

    "Not all of them," Tessa responded. "That would exceed both our
expectations and the limits of probability.  We've watched the news and the
hospitals, looking for subtle signs that might give away early
manifestations of mutancy.  When we stumble across such things, we waste no
time in setting up surveillance and deciding whether or not the child would
make an acceptable Hellion."

    "I don't believe it," Benedict said, voice faint.  "While Shinobi's
wasted his time in the hot tub, you people have managed to rebuild an entire
empire."

    "Now," Sebastian said, "It's my turn to make YOU an offer.  When and
only when you successfully aid us in overthrowing my disguisting slob of a
son, you may adopt the mantle of White King.  This does not come without
conditions.  My leadership of the Circle is not the be questioned in any
way.  You will benefit from our activities and have your say in them, as do
all of us, but final decisions are mine to make as I see fit.  You will be
accorded the respect deserved by a King of the Hellfire Club, but let there
be no doubt in your mind that you are a lesser partner.  If you can accept
that, then I believe we may be able to come to an accord."

    "Mr. Shaw," Benedict said, taking his glasses from his face and gazing
at the Black King with a respect more profound than Martine would have
believed him capable of.  "I accept your gracious offer.  It would be my
pleasure to assist you, and the rest of the Circle, in removing the
impediments to your expansion.  If you would allow it, I would gladly stand
at your side.  I want to be a part of this."

    Sebastian nodded, clearly pleased by the response.  "And so you shall.
I think, Mr. Kine, that you will find our commitment to our goals, and our
unity, to be a refreshing change from what you've grown accustomed to in the
States.  Step by step, my friend, we reclaim bits and pieces of our legacy.
I think that the time has come for us to reclaim it alltogether."

    Martine bit down on her cheek, hard.  The Reavers and the White Queen
wouldn't be enough to handle the combined power of the Inner Circle and the
Hellions.  If Benedict began talking and giving away secrets this early on
Shinboi's play to eliminate his father and his father's allies would fall on
it's face before it ever began.  She couldn't afford to wait for Pierce and
Frost.  And would Frost be able to bring herself to fight a newly reformed
group of Hellions?  Doubtful. With deep reservation, she realized that she
would have to kill Kine, and possibly some of the others, herself.

    And soon.  She looked purposefully to her left, and caught Scribe's
gaze.  The pink-eyed woman studied her for a moment, and then nodded her
understanding.  She too, it seemed, realized that the time for waiting was
at an end.

    "Now, Mr. Kine," Sebastian said, "I think the time has come to introduce
you to our new students."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Shinobi hated the Tube.  He hated most conventional vehicals of public
transit, to be completely truthful.  Still, it was a means to an end.  He'd
arrive at the charter house in time to witness the fall of his father's
dynasty and, if necessary, to launch a sneak attack of his own on the heels
of the sneak attack launched by Emma, Donald and his Reavers, Damask,
Martine and Mountjoy.  As not even Martine was aware of his presence in
London, it was impossible that she would let anything unknowingly slip to
anyone else.

    He could feel things falling into place, the pieces moving in their
predesigned courses on the chessboard.  His strategy was one even the
Gamesmaster might be envious of.  Soon, now, it would all be his.

    "Do you hear that, Gamesmaster?" He muttered under his breath, ignoring
the strange look a frumpily dressed woman beside him had to offer.  It
didn't really matter if she heard or understood.  It was amusing to think
that, somewhere in the world, the omniscient mutant known as the
Gamesmaster, who had moderated the Upstart hunts, might be watching this
little struggle.  It felt almost like old times.

    Yes, it was all falling into place.  Especially when one considered the
nature of the little surprise he had brought with him from the States.  It
was all the reinforcement he could ever need and more, though he doubted
that his father or Fitzroy would appreciate the irony.

    He also doubted there would be much left of the Hellfire Club standing
by the time he was done.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------