Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 6
Author: Ethiercn
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: Marvel owns them. I am making no profit.
Note: Thanks to Pygmalion, Nebs, and Myth.
Nova ignored Silhouette's glare and kept drumming his fingers on the table in the Crash Pad. C'mon Supertights, he thought, pick up the damn phone. From behind, he could hear Speedball's pacing and the tapping of Nita's foot. What was Vance thinking, Nova continued with his internal rant, going off half cock was his trademark.
The phone rang.
Speedball and Nita tripped over each other as they raced towards the phone. "Ouch!" Silhouette cried out as her head collided with Nova's. Thrash reached down and pressed the speaker button on the phone. "Well?" the Warrior's leader demanded, earning him a dirty look from Nova.
"She's here," Justice's voice said.
Nova let out a whoop as he picked up Nita and swung her around. Sil and Speedball exchanged a high five.
"Don't get too excited," Justice interrupted and the celebrations stopped. Justice quickly filled the others in on Shaw's insurance plan of holding their families hostage for Firestar's good behavior.
"We need to find these bastards," Nova snarled.
"We need better secret idenitiies, "Speedball added morosely.
"Does Firestar have any ideas?" Thrash asked calmly.
Cold bastard, Nova thought angrily. This whole thing is his fault, and he doesn't' have any family to lose. He doesn't even look relieved.
"I don't know," Justice replied in a tense voice. "She's watched all the time, so I haven't been able to speak to her. They've told her that I was dead."
"What does Shaw want?" Nita asked, her hands rested on Nova's shoulders.
"This Thomas Chase didn't say. You guys need to find about him. I think Firestar was trying to contact us earlier. I should be able to talk to her tomorrow." Vance paused. "Look, I've got to go."
"We'll see what we can find out. We won't move until you've checked," Thrash said and then added almost apologetically. "Perhaps the Upstarts was a front for something else."
"You think?" Justice hung up.
Next Day
"We are going out this evening," Shaw announced from his seat in the library. The beefy man almost looked happy.
"Where?" Angel asked. Her eyes finally left the screen as the painting covered the screen that a few minutes ago had shown her father. Until twenty minutes along, she had lived in fear that somehow Thomas had discovered her tampering of the practice room computer. She tried not to appear nervous, but she felt covered in a nervous sweat and constantly wanted to wipe her hands on her jeans. Thomas, however, didn't look angry, just, strangely, interested.
"A small gathering, given by a member of the Hellfire Club. It is time to display some power, enough to remind people that rumors of my death are nothing but rumors," Shaw paused and examined his fingernails for a moment. "You will stay close; your purpose is to show support and obedience," he looked at her and saw her nod. Shaw gestured to Thomas who brought forward a long white box. "You'll need to dress appropriately."
Angel took the box from Thomas and opened it. She studied the outfit that lay inside. "Where's the rest of it?" she asked, her ponytail swishing as she looked up. She couldn't wear that; her all together would be hanging out.
Thomas let out a bark of laughter.
Shaw rose to his feet and looked over in the box. "Everything's there. The color suits you."
"I can't wear this," Angel replied.
"Rachel can make any needed alterations."
"I'll look like I belong in some strange sex club," Angel blurted out before she could stop herself.
"Don't knock it until you try it," Thomas smirked. "I could arrange for . . ."
"Thomas!" Shaw's voice cut off the rest of the remark but lacked any real heat, and Angel wondered why Chase had such a free rein. "It is standard for the Club. Surely, you saw Frost wear something similar." Shaw finished. "You're not a queen, so color means little."
Precisely, Angel thought, and that's part of the reason why I don't want to wear it. "Look," she tried. "I'll wear anything else. Just not this. You said that I wouldn't have to comprom . . "
Suddenly, Shaw hit her across the face. The force of the blow knocked her off the chair. She landed on her knees, grasping from the shock and pain. She saw Thomas' feet move as he came forward. "You will do what you are told!" Shaw roared as he stood above her. She felt his weight shift as if he were about to deliver another blow. She dug her hands into the carpet. She couldn't fight back, not with her father under threat.
"Sir," Thomas said calmly. "Perhaps she has a point."
"Explain yourself," Shaw growled.
"If you adhere too much to old ways, it could show weakness. A slight adjustment to the outfit, leather pants, the kind with laces on the side, is not too much of a change and could be seen as a willingness to adapt," Thomas looked down at Angel. "And sir, with all due respect, if she is bruised, it doesn't show solidarity or a believable ability to rule your own children."
Shaw took a deep breath, "You," he said to Angel. "Can wear something more modest. But cross me, disappoint me, or fail me in anyway tonight, and you will not like you next see on the screen." Shaw left the room with a curse.
Thomas reached down and, to her surprise, gently took hold of her arm and helped her to feet. "You could thank me," he said as he reached out and raised her chin.
"Thank you," she mumbled, casting her eyes down as Thomas studied her face.
"It will bruise," Thomas concluded as he let go of her chin then let down her hair to see if it could hid the mark. "Make sure that you cover it well. I'll send Rachel up later to help you get ready. She'll bring the pants." He pulled the black leather corset from the box and handed it to her. "At least you won't need padding."
Angel blushed angrily and turned to go. Thomas reached out quickly and held her back. "Two things," he said. "First, good control when Master Shaw hit you."
"My father would've been killed. I care, unlike some people," Angel interrupted.
Thomas smiled, "True. I think I underestimated you."
Great, Angel thought, he's going to tighten up security.
"Second," Thomas continued. "Should you deicide to taste those strange sexual delights, my door is always open. Just wear the original costume."
Tired of these weird come on from him, designed, she believed, simply to make her feel uncomfortable, Angel snapped. "I don't think you're man enough." Nita would be so proud.
"Considering that your last man was nothing but a foolish boy, I doubt that very much," Thomas countered. He licked his lips, "Perhaps I'll show you later." He pushed her towards the door. "See you tonight," he finished as she left the room. With a slight frown, he pulled out his phone.
Angel entered her suite and threw the leather corset on the bed. She slammed the door behind her. Someone grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides as a hand covered her mouth before she could scream. She tried to bring her foot down on the person's instep, but before she could do that or flame up, a voice, a well loved voice, whispered in her ear, "On our first date, I picked you up on my bike. We went to the Boardwalk. A long drive, but with the way you held on to me, I wanted to make the night last. On the way back, the bike got a flat, and we flew back, just in time for your curfew. The next day, we laughed because a picture of my bike, floating in mid-air, was in the paper."
Then the arms around her loosened. Shaking, she turned and stared at the man in the guardsman uniform, the mask hanging from his belt. She reached and gently brushed his darkened hair away from his blue eyes. His eyes. "They . . . he said . . . you were . . . there was a photo," she choked out.
"I'm not," Vance said simply as his eyes studied her face in turn, his arms holding her close as his lips brushed her forehead. "You're not."
Her knees buckled. Easily, he picked her up and seated them on the edge of the bed, holding her in his lap. "You're alive," she murmured, her hands resting on his chest. "You're alive," she repeated as she kissed the line of his jaw, then his cheek. Finally, his lips found hers.
Please, she thought, this can't be a dream. She became aware of his soft voice "It's me" as his lips kissed away her tears and then claimed her mouth again.
Vance pulled away to study her face. He touched her cheek lightly and felt her wince, "This?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
"Shaw. He . . . "
"Did he do anything else?" his voice filled with concern and anger. "Has he done it before?" he demanded.
She shook her head. "He wanted me to wear," he could feel the heat of her blush though his fingers. She gestured towards the corset, "That and a pair of leather bikini bottoms. It would be like wearing my underwear in public. He changed it to a pair of pants."
Vance looked at the leather on the bed. An image of her dressed in the outfit, complete with the bikini bottoms, flashed though his mind. Despite the situation, his groin tightened. "I think," he began and then had to swallow. "I can see why you wouldn't want to wear it in public." He kissed her nose. "But maybe when it's just the two of us?"
She punched him lightly in the chest. "How did you get here?"
Quickly, he told her about the Warrior's search for her and how they had finally discovered various properties. He glossed over his encounter with her father, ending with his impulsive plan.
"That was risky," she commented at the end. "If they had . . . "
"Not as stupid and as risky as the previous one," Vance cupped her face. "I'm sorry for that."
"It's not just your fault. I should've said something."
"Still," He rested his forehead against hers for a moment unable to put his thoughts into words. "I've contacted the others, told them what the deal is; they're going to figure out how Shaw is keeping tabs on everyone. Do you know what he wants?"
"He says he's my father," she replied softly.
"Does he have any proof?"
"Nothing I believe," she leaned against him as his hands stroked hair. "He wants my help to get his power back." She shifted in his lap, her hands once more on his chest as if his physical presence was something she still didn't quite believe. "He's not well. His hands shake, and he has these coughing fits. Sometimes he seems weak. He takes something for it, but I'm not sure what."
"Okay. I'll tell the others. Maybe Turbo will help out and find something." He thought for a moment. "I know where Shaw is taking you tonight. It's in Denver. I still don't have enough access. Once . . . "
"I've got many of the codes," Angel interrupted, clasping his hand as she rose from his lap. She pulled him to the bathroom to show him.
He watched her take the information from its hiding place. "You're right. A man wouldn't think to look here." His blue eyes held a great deal of pride. "You did that surprise for the practice session."
She nodded, "Thomas might figure it out though. In some ways, he's more dangerous than Shaw."
"I'll take these," Vance picked up the few sketches of the guardsmen that Angel had done. "I can go into town and fax them to the Warriors. He's Randall's brother then?"
"Yes," she replied. "But there is something strange between him and Shaw," Angel continued as she watched Vance add the access information from the barracks computer. "It's like they're equals or even sometimes," She shook her head. "Chase can say things; do things that Shaw would punish in another guardsman." Hands shaking, she began to pack up the information
Vance picked up on her tone of voice. He reached out and gently took her hand. "At night?"
"I push the dresser in front of the door," she finished for him, and it was then he saw the extent of her exhaustion.
He hugged her, almost clutching her to him. Angel leaned him into. "I don't want to let you go," she whispered. "It's like a dream."
"Do you want to know a secret?" he asked. "If it was just the two us in a hotel room, I would ravish you."
"Ravish?" she smiled.
"Ravish. Most definitely ravish," he toyed with her hair. "I need to leave before they miss me or notice the slight change in camera angle."
"I know." Don't cry, she told herself.
They left the bathroom and walked to the door of the suite. Vance kissed her forehead. "I'll make it here tomorrow." His hand rested on the door knob. They kissed. "You're not alone," he finished before pulling on his mask and leaving the room.