The X-Project

The White Court and their escorts arrive at the party.


The doors opened, and more of Rutledge’s extremely well trained staff jumped to greet the visitors. In this case, it was two men in snow white tuxedos and earpieces, looking around warily. From his perched up on the far landing, Jason Wyngarde made an amused noise, which drew a questioning look from the Red Bishop.

“Dear Conrad, I believe the White Court of the New York Royal Chapter has arrived. With the sad boytoys of both Frost sisters providing security.” He gave a derisive snort. “How wonderfully awful.”

Meanwhile, Garrison finished his brief sweep and looked back at Doug. “OK, it’s clear. Now can I change out of this ridiculous suit? I feel like I’m ten seconds away from being made to sell 7-Up or dance around to ‘Putting on the Ritz’.”

"Think of it as camouflage," Doug told the Mountie. "Blend in with the environment." Indeed, the pure white tuxedos would have stood out even at many formal galas, but at a Hellfire gathering like this they were de rigeur. "Besides, you make it work." Only someone who knew him would have guessed at Garrison's discomfort with the choice of attire, to everyone else he looked businesslike and professional.

"He does. He always cleans up nice," Adrienne commented as she entered, brushing a hand down the torso of her own dress to make sure it encompassed her properly after having her coat seen to. She didn't appear to be at all nervous or unhappy with her own attire or presence here tonight. On the contrary; the people who saw her on a regular basis would most likely notice that she hadn't seemed this confident or pleased in a long time. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid we're all going to pale in comparison to Ms. Frost the Elder."

“That is kind of the point,” murmured Emma, sweeping in behind her sister, her hand resting lightly on Christian Kane’s arm, the gesture managing to convey both a clear mark of possession and a regal disdain. “The White Queen’s regalia is hardly designed for comfort. Or,” she shuddered lightly, “warmth. But drawing attention,” Emma sharply tapped the crop she carried in her left hand on her bare thigh, “that it certainly does.” Her voice was rich with amusement at the rippling movement through the crowd as heads turned at the slapping sound of the crop and then inclined in recognition, submission, as they recognised the White Queen.

"It certainly made them easy to tail." Christian said quietly, before the various attendants could descend on them. Britain former premier spy-master was also clad in a white tuxedo, but he wore it was the ease of long experience. His long white hair was caught in a tight ponytail down the back of his jacket, and cufflinks and studs flashed platinum in the lights. Surprisingly, Christian had the attire on hand in his rarely used London home. Most of the London Chapter recognized him, and a ripple of talk spread through the crowd at the sight of him at the side of New York's White Queen. "I dare say that we might be the new topic of conversation."

Meanwhile, Strathdee and Wyngarde took in the show from the balcony. Jason rubbed his upper lip, contemplating the new details. "Interesting. I'm not surprised that the White Queen decided to make a strong statement with her court selections, but to bring in Christian Kane... is it to bolster the Blue Queen or to make sure Shaw can't wriggle away? Kane did train Steed after all."

Strathdee looked over at his co-conspirator and raised an eyebrow, "Who says it can't be both? From the sound of it one should never underestimate Emma Frost, or assume that she has only one plan at any time. Saves you being taken by surprise later."

Doug spotted Wyngarde first, then recognized Strathdee from descriptions and pictures of the London courts. He frowned, not liking the way the American and Brit were so very chummy. It wasn't that he mistrusted anyone who palled around with...no, it was exactly that he mistrusted anyone who palled around with any of the New York Black court. He jerked his chin toward the balcony, silently guiding the eyes of Garrison and his father in that direction.

"I see him." Kane muttered, forcing himself not to clench his fists. Tearing Wyngarde's head off wasn't a viable solution, and without his powers, the thought was made moot. "Smug looking prick."

"They all are, son. That's the nature of this place. It's also one of its weaknesses." Christian's smile never wavered, inexplicably reminiscent of an old tiger ghosting through jungle it had long inhabited. "Now that we've been properly noticed, and look – a queue of bastards is forming - shall we join the festivities?"

“Now, Christian,” said Emma, tranquilly. “You say queue of bastards like it’s a bad thing. These are my people.” Her smile was entirely predatory. “Or they will be, anyway, by the time we’re done here.” She tapped the crop against her thigh again, her eyes glittering as she relaxed her shields, letting the adulation of the crowd whisper against her mind, tinged with eager lust. Treachery may be on the minds of certain high-ranking members of the Club, but most of the people attending knew nothing of those machinations and were just eager to ingratiate themselves with the White Court and hoped that they might, perhaps, gain special favour in the eyes of the White Queen. Emma might be there to thwart the treachery but she didn’t see any reason for missing out on the fun. “White Court,” she purred, “it’s time to misbehave.”


Wyngarde is slightly surprised by the appearance of some associates of Xavier's at the party and sics Astrid Bloom on them to make sure they aren't planning anything.


“Curiouser and curiouser.” Wyngarde muttered, earning a puzzle look from Strathdee. “I believe Xavier’s has decided to make a statement.” He made a gesture to the floor, where a pair entered the London Chapter through the front doors, and joined the receiving line. Elisabeth Braddock had membership along with her brother from their parents, but had barely used it. Now, she was on the floor with her lanky date in tow.

"A show of support it seems," Strathdee agreed, "It hardly matters, how many members of the club they bring in. The result has already been decided," he continued confidently. As far as he was concerned the more of Xavier's cohorts who appeared the more witnesses there would be to the ultimate victory.

"One of these days I'll engineer a situation where you're 'And Guest'," murmured Jim as the doorman grudgingly acknowledged the veracity of their invitations. "A conference, maybe."

"Relax, the point of being here is that no one is supposed to look at you. The less they know, the better." Taking in the surroundings, Betsy smiled at familiar faces as they passed. A few noted her dress, one side deep black split down the middle with jewels while the other part of her dress was strikingly white. "And don't doubt your status as my favorite piece of arm candy, luv."

Jim reached around her shoulder to toy with her single black shoulder-strap. "That's another reason I need to pick the next event. I want at least one night where I get to introduce you as my shiksa."

Betsy turned. She smiled as she brought her lips to Haller's ear and whispered. "But you did, I'm positive the limo driver heard you repeat it, over and over again." She pulled back. Her smile growing wider, as her other hand roamed her partner's neck. "I quite liked it."

"Doesn't count. No one else heard you invoking me as your higher power, either." Jim turned away from a wooden-faced waiter and paused, his smile momentarily falling as he saw her face. "You okay? You look pale."

"It's the lighting, it washes me out." Betsy responded without pause. Her hand traveled down his back. "I truly despise these events, don't you think our time would be better served finding a soft surface and invoking more deities."

The other telepath's smile returned, bringing with it a faint flush. "Shiksa temptress," he said, and passed her a glass of champagne offered by one of the Club's politely expressionless employees.

Wyngarde shared an amused look with Strathdee. "Perhaps Braddock has broken ties with Xavier's. We had heard rumours. Regardless," He snapped his fingers and a woman appeared at his side immediately. "Astrid, darling, keep an eye on those two? If they have a larger plan, I'd like some warning."

"Of course, Jason." Bloom said, and disappeared down the steps and into the crowded lobby.

"I've learnt not to put too much faith in rumours," Strathdee replied, "Especially considering Xavier's unnatural ability to retain the loyalty of his disciples wherever they end up." If he could engender that kind of loyalty then Strathdee was sure he'd be in a much stronger position than he was now. "It can't hurt to keep an eye on things, especially when we're this close to our goal."

The Black Court arrives at the party and Wyngarde and Strathdee reflect on their plan one last time before the proceedings start.


"And my patron arrives." Wyngarde said coldly, as the doors opened to admit the rest of the Black Court to the club. Their retinue was typically overblown, bracketed by a pair of men who were Belladonna's assassin body guards (and rumoured sex toys). Scarlett appeared on Sebastian's arm, the diminutive red-headed telepath the court's supposed counter to Emma Frost's psionic powers. The truth was that the woman was not a terribly powerful telepath, more useful for her skills in identifying signs of psionic tampering than the kind of mental feats Frost was capable of.

"He looks angry, Conrad. That is a good sign. Cold, ruthless Shaw might think he way out of this mess. But angry Shaw wants to hurt someone, and it makes him lose sight of whom his target should be."

"And why wouldn't he be. He's been accused and pushed, men like our dear Mr Shaw never like to to be called to court. Especially since he knows he's not done anything wrong, or at least what he's been accused of.

"Ironic, considering the many things that he is guilty of. Tonight, he learns that Wyngardes never forgive and never forget." He said coldly.

"I'd suggest attempting to enjoy ourselves," Shaw said, the words directed at Belladonna, "but considering the circumstances, and company within, perhaps we should strive to tolerate the evening." He was biding his time, really, until things settled down to their normal status quo - until then, though, he would content himself with how, exactly, to seek his revenge once things were settled.

Shaw did not let slights such as this go on without an answer.

"Oh, there's always something to enjoy in every situation, chere," Belladonna purred, "if only you know where to look for it. I am sure some source of diversion will present itself by the end of the night." Whether she meant in the form of a particularly juicy bit of gossip, a touch of revenge or something else entirely was hard to say.

He didn't, quite, scowl at her but it was a near thing. "Hopefully, the diversion will be of some use to us rather than vapid conversations we tend to find ourselves in," Shaw remarked, tightening his hand over where Scarlett had her's looped through his arm as he steered them through the crowded entry way.

"And now it starts." Wyngarde turned back to Strathdee. "I have one last loose end to take care of, and we're clear, Conrad. My assassins will dispatch the Blue King, yours will be the final nail in the coffin for the Red King. Shaw and Steed to take the blame, and the White Court will remain silent in order to dispatch one of their foes." He put a comforting arm around the man's shoulders. "And once the dust settles, we'll both be Kings. The courts will dance to our whims, and then, who knows?"

"You have greater ambitions?" Strathdee asked feigning surprise. There was only one position Wyngarde could be aiming for, the Lord Imperial, a position that only one of them could achieve. And a post neither of them could achieve while the other held the secrets of their scheme over the others head. Perhaps when all this was done it would be wise to hire those assassins to pay Wyngarde a visit Conrad mused as an answering smile spread across his face. "And most importantly, nobody even suspects a thing," he continued gesturing at Shaw. "It makes this victory even sweeter."