Author's Note: I lied to you all. This is not the sequel you're looking for. About two weeks before I headed back to school, I realized I hate Emma Frost so much I'd love to write about her, and so this came out as a preqel-to-the-sequel…if that makes any sense. It was supposed to be more of a one-shot, but it evolved and grew (as stories are wont to do), and instead, I have seven chapters of "events leading up to the sequel." I hope you enjoy, and I pray you'll all continue to be patient with me while the real sequel is prepared. It's currently 28 chapters and almost 48,000 words, and now that I'm back at school I can't really say when it'll get finished, because I am hella busy. Please stick with me, because it'll be worth it. If you're like me, you've looked back on the first story and laugh when you read it. Since it's been a couple years…well, judge for yourself. Without further ado or excuses, I present "Hellfate."
Hellfate
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters – the near future. William Stryker kidnaps Xavier and uses him to nearly destroy the world. In the process, a dear friend is destroyed instead.
Three years later. Geoffrey Stryker, vengeful brother, uses experimental research to design a drug to cripple the mutants of the academy. Fortunately the "cure" doesn't last, and the evidence is destroyed – or so the X-Men were told.
Two and a half years later, the story continues…
Chapter One: Dior
"I told you we'd be late."
Sabere leaped off the back of the borrowed motorcycle and dropped her helmet on the seat. Logan slid off his seat and leisurely lit a cigar. With animalistic reflexes and an adamantium-plated skull, he had no need for a helmet. Sabere, on the other hand, was incensed and had wild hair to match. He smirked as she shoved him in the direction of the mansion.
"We're half an hour late! I was supposed to lead a team today! The session's probably over…"
"Then what's the fuss?" Logan asked. He blew a lazy stream of smoke into the June afternoon air, and grinned as Sabere made a face. The way he'd figured, it was only one session of the six scheduled for the week. But she'd bickered about the entire trip – borrowing Scott's ride (which Logan did almost daily, to get away from the now mostly-empty mansion), leaving for a half-hour drive when they had to be in the Danger Room in an hour, and driving back a case of beer, of all things – but hey, it would be worth it.
He positioned the cigar in the corner of his mouth and scooped up the case. Good, dark stuff, not cheap, but worth every sip. Nightcrawler recommended it, which, he reflected, was not too surprising given his heritage.
"…and all for some goddamned beer. It may be summer, but this is still a school and there are still some – "
The new scent made him freeze. He threw out an arm to stop Sabere – there was nothing safe or good about this scent. Perfume, high-quality, but it carried tones of cruelty and ruthlessness. Female, unfamiliar, and unwelcome – and right outside their front door.
Sabere poked him and gave a hand sign – what's going on?
Logan gestured back. Enemies. Keep an eye out.
He set down the case silently and they made their way quietly around to the front of the mansion.
Sabere caught a glimpse of their visitor through the ivy covering a corner of the mansion. At first she thought it must be a joke, because the woman looked like some high-class hooker visiting for the weekend. Her hair was sleek and blonde and fell in a smooth sheet against her shoulders, but the hair was the last thing to be noticed. Even from thirty feet away, Sabere could see the woman was wearing an elaborate though miniscule white corset, and ample cleavage, perfectly bronzed, was perched inside. Well, some of it was inside the shirt, if it could be called a shirt by any culture. The woman wore a floor-length flared white skirt, which, when she shifted her weight, revealed a slit that bared a shapely leg that must inspire Mattel. Even Logan, in full hunter mode, could barely contain a gasp.
But Sabere tried to focus her attention on the feet – the least sexual part. Now it was clear that their guest was no hooker, because no classy call girl wore the equivalent of white combat boots while on business.
"Honestly, would the two of you stop stalking and go find your dear professor?" The woman rounded on them, arms akimbo, her perfectly structured face and dramatic silver makeup commanding almost as much attention – almost – as her décolletage.
"You realize most of the clientele at this school are underage?" Logan retorted, claws still out.
"I do not have time for catty jokes, especially when they involve the oldest puns in the book. I'm here to see Xavier, who has responded to neither the door nor my own attempts to reach him."
Sabere blamed her lack of focus on the intimidating attention of a life-size Barbie's face and cleavage. "You're a telepath?" she asked dumbly, and immediately regretted it. This was not a woman to lose ground to.
"You're a brainless young fool," the blonde snapped. "Now will one of you lackeys please try to find the professor before I – "
"And lackey will be their career, should they continue to miss Danger Room sessions," Xavier interrupted, rolling out the huge front door with Scott at his side.
"Charles," the woman said coldly.
"Miss Frost," Xavier replied pleasantly. "What, besides harassing my delinquents, brings you to my doorstep?"
Logan clenched his fists, radiating resentment at his demeaning treatment in front of this confident stranger.
"I have news," Miss Frost said. "It's vital and for now, it is for your ears only."
"So be it." He turned his wheelchair and rolled back inside. Miss Frost swept after him, sparing a scathing glare at Logan and Sabere and a leer at Scott, who looked resolutely away and probably rolled his eyes, if he could.
"Old girlfriend?" Logan asked as the door shut.
"Archnemesis," Scott retorted, with little patience. Clearly no one has a sense of humor today, Sabere thought grumpily. But she hid a smile, thinking of how Kurt would react to their underdressed, overconfident visitor.
"That would be Emma Frost, Class 3 telepath, White Queen of the Hellfire Club," Scott explained.
"The what?" Logan was not impressed by the hokey codename.
"The Hellfire Club. It's a multinational organization of extremely wealthy, extremely powerful, and extremely dangerous mutants. The whole thing is a power struggle, ranked by chess, with the kings and queens of each color fighting for control over the entire organization."
"You've got to be joking," Logan snorted, mostly to himself.
"So why is she here?" Sabere asked.
Scott spread his hands, helpess. "I have no effing clue."
Bamf! Kurt joined them on the front step. He was growing out his hair, and he had to swipe the thick indigo curls out of his face for them to see his grin.
"So Logan finally found away to release his tension!" Sabere had to cover her smile – Logan did not appreciate being teased when it came to his less-than-secret feelings for Jean and, to a much lesser extent, Sabere. "But perhaps it was not entirely appropriate to bring your, ah, companion to a school?"
"She's not with me," Logan snarled. Kurt beamed and rounded on Scott.
"Surely Jean will have words with you on the subject…"
"Though Emma tried her best to look the part, she is not a prostitute," Scott told the sky, his head flopped back in feigned exhaustion. "That's their dress code."
Logan's eyebrow twitched. "Might be my kinda club after all." Sabere rolled her eyes.
"Seriously, who is that lingerie model and why is she so anxious to meet with Xavier?" Kurt tilted his head, reconsidering, and the devilish light came back to his eyes. "I mean, if she really is not a hooker…"
"Kurt, for God's sake!" Sabere groaned.
"Amen to that," Logan snorted. "For a Christian, you got a dirty mind, elf!"
"I am making jokes to put off her suspicions," Kurt said simply. "I heard you say she is a telepath, ja? She is terrifying and if she is probing us, I do not want her to see the truth. I do not like her here – she reeks evil."
"You're telling' me," Logan said.
"We're just going to have to trust the Professor on this one," Scott said. "She came alone, and she's not nearly Xavier's equal as a telepath. And believe it or not, she was polite to us. Whatever she has to tell him is critical."
The others nodded and silence fell.
"You may be interested to know that Sabere's team was killed in action today while its leader was absent," Scottt continued with a raised eyebrow.
"Dammit!" She whirled to scold Logan, but he had already taken off running.
"Forgot the beer!" he called over his shoulder.
Sabere dropped her head into her hands. Scott watched Logan disappear around the corner.
"Let me guess. He took my bike – and you – to go get beer."
"Yeah."
"He takes my bike all the time – I've kinda come to terms with that one. But you? Were you collateral or something?"
"He's…broke." There was no way she was getting out of this gracefully…
"You bought Logan beer." Scott folded his arms.
"Yeah, and he owes me now!" She ignored Kurt, who was shaking with silent laughter, and worked on saving face in front of Scott. Logan had made a fair bargain, and honestly, Sabere had never been on a motorcycle before and enjoyed the opportunity
"So you bought Wolverine beer, missed a Danger Room session, and consequently got your team killed."
"Yep, I'm a teamkiller and an enabler. That covers it." Sabere lifted her chin and glared up at Scott.
"Don't mind him," Kurt broke in, grinning. "He is just upset because Jean died with the other ladies."
"Once was enough! You should understand," Scott grumbled. Sabere hadn't been at the mansion when Jean was killed on a mission, but she had been present for her return, and then almost lost Kurt in return. She certainly understood. "It wasn't even a fair match, with the girls outnumbered…"
"Wait, you did guys versus girls without me?" Sabere asked. Those sessions were always the best because they usually had plenty of money – and drinks – riding on them.
In answer, Scott jerked his head at the path around the mansion. "Let's just say it's a good thing you bought the beer."
"Ooh, my favorite, too." Kurt winked, and Sabere, smiling despite her sound defeat, strode past him to float a bottle out of the box.
"Hey! What are you – "
"They will explain why this is still, for the moment, my beer. I am staying away from you so I don't get in any more trouble with the authorities."
"We'll find you when we have more info on Emma," Scott called.
"Thanks." She scowled at her warm beer and made her way into the student wing – Bobby should be around and if this was to be her only drink from that case, she wanted it to be a good cold one.