It was an ordinary Tuesday evening at the Hellfire Club. A few guests had already shown up and were in attendance in the main ballroom. As per the standard dress code for the Hellfire Club, most of the regulars were in period clothing from the 1700s with a more modern flair to the outfits. Scott could see one or two who had replaced the more traditional leggings with a recent fashion trend, Zubaz. It instantly brought a wave of nostalgia to Scott Summers' brain, seeing those ridiculously colorful zig-zag skintight leggings that epitomized the late-80s and early-90s.
Of course, seeing those leggings alongside dark wool jackets, vests of a more normal color scheme, and powdered wigs tended to make the entire ensemble look like something out of a time traveler's nightmare.
The others attending were often famous people trying to have a good time without being seen, and Scott could swear he noticed Bill Murray hiding in one corner telling a few jokes to others in attendance. Most everyone had more modern styles of dress to match himself, Warren, and Jean. A harpsichord could be heard playing off in the distance, though Scott could swear it was playing something modern. It was a tune that teased at one of the corners of his brain, though he'd probably remember it later when it wasn't necessary.
One of the underlings who had offered to take the coats of Warren and Jean, and had done so, motioned for Scott Summers to follow him to a side room. Scott followed, but two bouncers dressed in hilarious tight leggings in day glo colors and menacingly large shoulder pads under their jackets moved to block Warren and Jean from following their leader.
"Scott!" Jean cried out as the doors began to close behind him.
Scott winked at Jean through his glasses, which he knew she could feel through their link, and motioned that it would be ok.
Scott walked up several flights of stairs, more than he figured could have been held inside a building as old as this. Maybe the Hellfire Club bled into the nearby skyscraper. It wouldn't have surprised him. Still, the corridors changed dramatically in style as he passed. The initial ones were that same sort of faux-1700s style that the main ballroom of the Hellfire Club had, but they eventually gave way to a more metallic and modern theme. It almost felt like he was back at the mansion's sub-basements, actually.
Finally, the butler stood in front of a pair of double doors with a white chess piece emblazoned on the front. Scott recognized it as the White Queen. Emma. Scott's calm wavered slightly as memories with her flooded back into his conscious mind. Almost all of them were either in combat, or during sex. Thankfully, most of the latter weren't coming to the front of his head. The doors shuddered open and darkness welcomed Scott.
"What, you expect me to walk into a trap?" Scott looked to the butler next to him, raising an eyebrow.
The Butler looked at Scott and raised an eyebrow. He spoke with a really bad British accent, like someone trying to play off a cockney accent having seen Mary Poppins once, "Miss Frost isn't one to play games, Mister Summers. She requested the room be set like this for you."
"Oh." Scott replied, laughing softly, "So she's playing games. Sounds like Emma all right."
With that, Scott walked into the room and wasn't shocked when the doors shut behind him.
Scott stumbled in the darkness for a few seconds, but found himself a wooden chair. Bumbling slightly, Scott sat down. It was a distinctly uncomfortable chair, one that Scott himself would have chosen for interrogations when he and Emma were leading the school together. The silence in the room was also deafening, but it wasn't anything Scott couldn't handle. The Professor had made him go through similar enhanced interrogation techniques and sensory deprivation during the old X-Men days.
In retrospect, Charles Xavier was kind of a dick.
Scott could feel Jean's presence in the back of his head, chuckling at his thoughts. [Scott, everything ok?] Jean asked mentally, and Scott could 'see' what was going on at Jean's end as well.
[Oh, you know.] Scott replied mentally, leaning back in the chair, [Totally black room, wooden chair with no cushions, no sound.] he paused, thinking to himself, [Also, it's kinda cold in here. Like someone tossed me in the freezer.]
There was a long pause from Jean.
[...do you want help? I can tear this place apart, screw by screw.]
Scott laughed, his voice echoing about the room, [I'm fine, Jean. Remember, Optic Blasts.] In fact, Scott had pulled his spare visor out of his pocket and was in the process of switching them with his glasses right now. It was a coping mechanism for nerves, Scott admitted, but it also made it easier to use said powers if needed.
[Fine, fine.] Jean replied mentally, sounding only slightly huffy that she didn't have a chance to rip the Hellfire Club to pieces. [I don't see Mastermind, or someone pretending to be a Jason Wyndgarde, by the way.]
[Good.] Scott nodded to himself, feeling slightly comforted by that. [If this goes well, we won't need to worry about him. Much.]
A sliver of light grew into a rectangle as a single door slammed open, splashing the room with almost blinding light. Scott's hand moved by instinct up to the release stud on his visor, ready to blast some goons in Hellfire Club masks. Instead, an outline the man named Cyclops had become overly familiar with greeted him. A larger outline, one that looked like a large fur coat draped over someone's shoulders. Lithe legs at about knee-high were seen below the cloak, and stiletto heels at her feet.
"God damnit," Scott could hear Emma curse as she held the door open, "That damned fuse must have blown again. I would apologize, but I don't feel sorry."
Scott let out a laugh, a small feeling of relief coming through his body as he heard her voice again. Seeing Jean once more had way, way more of an impact on him, Scott had to admit, but Emma had been an important part of his life for the last several years.
"Hi Emma," Scott waved at the White Queen of the Hellfire Club nonchalantly from his chair.
Emma stood at the door, blankly staring at Scott Summers. He could feel her mind probing at his own, and coming up against several mental blocks. Emma was certainly weaker than she was in the future, Scott reflected. He felt Emma grow frustrated, hitting a brick wall each time she tried to probe at him. If Scott had wanted, he could let Emma in… but he didn't want to show off all his cards just yet.
"...who are you?" Emma sounded frustrated, glaring at Scott and drawing her cloak close.
"Scott Summers of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters." Scott introduced himself, letting the wooden chair go forward and land with a clunk as he stopped leaning and stood up. Adjusting his tie slightly, Scott tapped his visor, "Excuse the attire. I was expecting trouble."
Emma didn't move, but Scott did notice her hand tightening on the doorknob, "I've heard of the school. Last I checked, Charles Xavier was a paraplegic bald man, though. You are…" she paused, looking Scott up and down in the harsh light, "Far more interesting."
"I'll take that as a compliment, Miss Frost." Scott nodded, taking a moment to switch back to his glasses instead, "I have something I'd like to talk to you about, Emma. Do you want to continue speaking here, or somewhere more comfortable?"
Emma let out a 'hmmph' as she backed away from the open door, "Please, Mister Summers, follow me."
Scott obediently followed Emma into her chambers. As his eyes adjusted to more normal lighting, part of him was subtly impressed with what he saw.
[Eyes on the prize, Scott.] Jean chided him as she noticed what he was looking at.
[I meant the room.] Scott told a half-truth, and felt Jean roll her eyes with amusement.
To be fair, he hadn't expected to see Emma in her full White Queen regalia. White fur collar atop a long bright white cape. Long, thigh-high boots in the same white that hugged Emma's curves. A tight white corset that pulled the eyes to the center of her chest. White panties. Scott hadn't really seen Emma in this outfit before much, but remembered hearing about it from Phoenix not long after their first fight. While Emma Frost had worn much more provocative outfits during her time as a teacher at Xavier's, something about this outfit really caught Scott by surprise.
Now that his brain was focusing on the environment, though, it was surprisingly plain. A pair of fainting couches with a small oak table between them. A fireplace to the left of those tables, and a wet bar on the opposite wall. Scott also saw another set of double doors on the opposite side of the room from him, which must lead to Emma's more private quarters at the Hellfire Club. Emma walked slowly around the room before sitting down on the black fainting couch.
"Now." She said, as more of a statement than a question of Scott, "I hear you had a business proposition."
"Of a sorts," Scott replied as he sat down on the white couch opposite of Emma. He noticed that there was a tea set between them, steam escaping the spigot of the tea kettle. Forcing himself to look Emma in the eyes, which was only mildly harder than it had ever been, Scott continued, "I know that you have a desire to teach young Mutants, and I have a means to provide it."
There was a long pause, and Emma's eyes grew slightly wider at Scott's words.
"Who the hell are you." It wasn't a question this time either.
Scott shrugged, "Scott Summer-"
"No." Emma interrupted him, sounding almost angry, "I want more than a name and a face, Mister Summers. I've yet to encounter a single person who can single handedly block out my own telepathic talents." Her eyes narrowed at Scott, trying to pierce the ruby quartz between them, "And one who knows my own desires better than my own compatriots."
Scott leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath, "Well, there's a reason you can't break through my defenses." He paused to tap at his forehead, "You put some of them in there."
"Bullshit."
"You will." Scott explained, feeling Emma push at his brain again. Scott brought a memory to the surface of his mind and let it drift towards Emma's probe.
[Don't you want to inherit the Earth together?] the memory of Emma spoke to them both. A mental image of a graveyard in the autumn, leaves of earthy tones drifting around the two. Scott had been walking away from Emma in this memory, wearing clothes one would choose for a funeral. The memory of Scott paused before turning back to Emma, in thought. [I…] it paused, before coming to Emma and embracing her with a loving kiss, [Yes.]
Emma jerked backwards as if someone had slapped her. She rubbed at her head, hand fluffing her long, blonde hair as if she was trying to get rid of an itch.
"You… what?" Emma wasn't confused, outside of the context. It was obvious that it was a memory, and even more obvious that she had literally no memory of that happening.
"That's from…" Scott paused, thinking," 2010? You had joined the Xavier School a few months ago, and did a pretty good job of convincing me to stay with the school at the time."
Emma looked curious, "Twenty years in the future?"
"I came from 2015, actually," Scott corrected with a shrug, finally admitting the truth, "And I think it was your fault. But that's not why I'm actually here."
"You… you want to change the future." Emma finally began piecing things together, her sky blue eyes piercing Scott's soul as she spoke.
Scott nodded.
"Interesting." Emma tapped at her chin, hunched over in thought, having given up on any seduction angle with Scott Summers, "And you only want me to teach young Mutants?"
"Well," Scott continued, "You're welcome to join the X-Men in combat, if it tickles your fancy."
Emma let out a bark of laughter as something clicked in her head, "Charles Xavier and the X-Men. I should have put two and two together much sooner."
Scott stood up from the fainting couch. He slipped one in his jacket pocket while offering the other one to Emma, "Well? Professor Frost does have a nice ring to it."
Emma's blue-lipsticked lips curled in a smirk as she looked up to Scott Summers, "I believe I shall. You pique my interest, Scott Summers." She stood up, accepting his hand, "But tell that girl in your mind that I just may go after you, too."
Scott could feel nervous sweat going down the back of his neck as he shook the White Queen's hand for the first time.
Author's Notes:
Sorry about the lack of notes last time around. I was in a rush, and really should have waited to post before going over comments. That was my own impatience there, but I wanted to get the chapter out as well before going on a trip to visit family on the other side of the state. Fun note: Lutefisk is about as delicious as it sounds. Boiled, tasteless, and slightly jello-y fish. 'Yum.' Still, it is my heritage as a Scandinavian.
Let's be honest: Magneto-as-Xorn was a horrible retcon to make Magneto into less of a monster. While I don't like where Morrison went with the canonical Holocaust survivor, it was still better than the horrible series of retcons. It'd have even been better if it had been Joseph pretending to be Magneto. Again.
As you can see, I'm playing with Scott/Jean/Emma here. I figure that Emma was already attracted to Scott on a basic level, and his personality hooked her in more. Being unable to read him on top of that? That's gonna really bring in some new heights of attraction. Of course, Scott's survived being blatantly hit on before (hi, Psylocke), but we'll see if this keeps him sane. Especially if the Phoenix Saga still happens.
Not sure if Warren really will stick around, though. In canon, he's the one who voiced the desire to quit, but he's also the one to eventually kick off the original X-Factor. I know Bobby's staying for sure, but we'll have to see what whims strike me in the future.
Like I said, I'm playing this like Scott is: seat of my pants.