nextgenerationmarvel | A Grand Soiree [Open to anyone with potential business at the NYC branch of the Hellfire Club]

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A Grand Soiree [Open to anyone with potential business at the NYC branch of the Hellfire Club]

"There hasn't been a party like this in years at this location, has there?" Sebastian turned towards Tessa, or rather, the clone of her that Essex had made for him. It was true, though, there was an energy in the old place that hadn't been seen ever since before he died for the first time. They didn't know yet, that he would take this moment to make his reemegence into the public eye, but there were rumours that there would be a grand surprise.

"No, sir. Attendance at the New York branch's soirees has been declining for some years." Tessa replied crisply. He wondered, vaguely, what the original Tessa would think of this pitch-perfect copy of her. As for Tessa's part, she was aware of Sage's existence and regarded it as nothing more than a vague curiosity.

Sebastian continued to watch guests filing in through the cameras at the command centre he'd installed some years ago beneath the halls of the Hellfire Club.

"What about my would-be heirs?" Sebastian spoke with a faint sneer. Disappointing as they were in many ways, they were his family. His legacy. They would have to do. He couldn't have another Shinobi on his hands.

"I expect they will both attend. I've spotted Stephanie, but but Alistaire as of yet." Tessa replied again.

"Good. And others have been invited too. The Braddock and the Worthington girls." Sebastian turned again towards the monitors. "Keep a close eye on the witch, would you? I won't have her ruining my night."

"Yes, sir."

Sebastian lifted a glass of fine whisky to his lips and took a slow sip, watching the event unfolding before him. A grand collection of the finest of New York society. A fine audience for him to emerge before, like the phoenix.

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Stephanie looked at him, eyes glistening with barely suppressed tears. "I saw him, Marcelo. My father, my real father, up on that stage. So much has happened- and there's so much I'm still angry at him for, but I can ... I can either hold this resentment or I can work with him. Keep him on the straight and narrow. Kick his ass when he needs it."

She looked at him, a bit confused. "... don't tell me you didn't at least think that was an objectively brilliant speech. Come on, Marcelo. I get that you're pretty much obligated to hold things against him. I understand, but just admit it was a good speech." She actually smiled slightly.

Marcelo felt his heart slowly slip down to settle like a rock into the pit of his stomach. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. No, she still looked near jubilant.

He glanced at the people around them. "We need to talk. Now."

Marcelo reached for her elbow to steer her out of the way to somewhere where he could put a silence bubble around them. He wasn't believing this.

"What the hell, Marcelo?" Stephanie practically hissed as he maneuvered her out of the area. She looked at him with an eyebrow raised, demanding explanation. She wriggled her arm out of his- it wasn't hard, considering her strength and she stood across from him.

"This isn't about you, Marcelo! I was wrong! I was wrong!" She looked at him. "This is my mistake. There are things, things I should have understood better. And that he should've understood better too.

Don't make this into a fight between us, Marcelo." She looked at him with now-pleading eyes. "Please. I need you."

"What did you and everyone drink out there?" he asked once they were in a bubble of silence. They could hear each other fine, but no one could hear them. He gestured at the room of people once Stephanie snatched her arm away.

"Pompous overreaching platitudes do not make a good speech. Nor should it make you happy to see the man who punished you for daring to take care of me when I needed it."

"A glass of champagne." She looked at him like his head had floated off on a string. "What is that even supposed to mean?" She looked around at them.

"He meant every word of it. And ... I haven't forgotten everything. We've got a lot to sort through, Father and I. No doubt about it. But should I just sit and hate my own father? Or should I work with him to make sure that he's the man he could be, instead of falling prey to his worst instincts?

Fighting him his pointless, but maybe I can help him. I know Mr. Crane's spoken to him about the way he treated me. Maybe he understands that now. The mistake he made."

His mind was racing. He was trying to figure out what was going on. It couldn't be the champagne. There had to be other people who didn't drink any like him. And Marcelo was the only one seemingly unaffected by a speech that was not the second coming of the Sermon on the Mount.

"You and everyone else out there are in a rapture about that speech. It wasn't even that good, Stephanie. It had nothing to do with your relationship with your father." He took a breath. He realized something.

"The man who spoke before your father and introduced him. Is he a mutant?"

"Yes. Barely, though." She laughed. "And it's hilariously obvious when he's using it. It's all robotic." She seemed positively condescending about it, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And it's telepathy. I have a scrambler against that. So maybe you're just a poor judge of speeches.

And it's Reginald, darling. He's sweet, really. You'd like him." Stephanie shook her head. "How about we just relax and enjoy the party? And maybe later tonight, we can enjoy each other ..." She took his hands and pulled him a little closer.

"I'm sorry I snapped. It's just a rollercoaster right now."

His eyes narrowed at the admission the man was a mutant. The change in crowd demeanor came while that man was talking, not Sebastian. He stiffly came closer when she pulled.

"He's not a telepath..." The pieces were falling into place in Marcelo's mind. Not everybody consumed the same thing. It couldn't be in the air because there was no effect on Marcelo himself. The Brazilian was only human after all. But he did have one defense no one else in the room had thanks to a lab accident.

"His voice was off when he addressed the room. It didn't sound like a voice should. Sonic powers, maybe?" If the speech had actually contained what Stephanie had wished to hear, Marcelo would have let things lie. But it hadn't. This was probably his only chance to ever protect Stephanie.

And she wouldn't want it.

Stephanie's face looked conflicted for a moment, as if she was trying to sort out very contradictory impulses. She'd spent a long time with Crane, though and now that Marcelo had attacked him, that subtle programming was coming to the surface.

"You are not accusing Reginald of that." Stephanie snapped angrily. "When Shinobi was trying to bankrupt Shaw Industries- me, aiming to kill us, it was Crane that worked day and night to restore Shaw assets to their proper owners."

Nevermind that he'd worked with Sebastian through the entire period. Or had likely done so.

"Reginald is my friend."

He could ignore the snapping, but it was more the reason behind why she was getting angry that horrified him. How far down that rabbit hole was she? Was she far beyond everything he could do?

"Stephanie," he tried to keep his voice calm. "I was standing next to you out there. I heard the same speech from your father and the opening provided by your friend Reginald. You know I have powers and the protection it gives me. Reginald's voice didn't sound right. You think all those people in that room are happy because your father made a speech laced with things for his daughter? Is your father such a sentimental man as that? Particularly after he let you anguish thinking he was dead and then yanking Shaw Industries out from under you while saying you have to take part in this Hellfire business."

He took a step back from her. "Or do you not trust me at all?"

Stephanie's head hurt. It felt like Marcelo was making some sense, but at the same time, how dare he accuse Reginald of such a thing? She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing the whole horrible thing would just go away.

"It's not about trust." She was almost pleading, desperate to just end this. "Stop making this about that. Just, stop. Please." She was visibly shaking now. She looked like she was going to start crying any moment now.

He swallowed. It wasn't an answer that gave him hope.

"Very well," he said quietly. He dropped the silence bubble around them, letting the noise from the party wash over them. Excited chatter about that magnificent speech made him sick to his stomach.

"Your party awaits." He was going to find champagne or alcohol and forget about any bad side effects with his medications.

"Ah, so we meet at last. This is the man my daughter speaks so often about." Sebastian seemed jubilant, triumphant as he offered his hand to Marcelo. He certainly noted the downcast expressions on their faces, which only fuelled his sense of triumph. The man was more likely than not an obstacle in his path. If the Brazilian were lucky, Stephanie would abandon him and he might even be able to survive.

He had achieved so much tonight. He could afford to be generous.

"What did you two think of the speech? It was a little overripe, yes, but that's what the crowd likes. It certainly seemed to have quite a response, though." He chuckled slightly and sipped his drink.

"You look like you're recovering nicely from that tragic incident, though." He smirked directly at Marcelo.

"Stephanie, I think Brooke is looking for you. Perhaps you could let us two men chat for a moment?" It seemed kindly enough phrased, but with Marcelo's hearing, he'd be able to discern an order from a genuine request. Sebastian Shaw rarely gave requests.

Marcelo blinked at the sudden appearance of Stephanie's father. Well, if this didn't cap off a nowhere near perfect evening, the Brazilian would go out and get shot somewhere to make sure he hit all the high notes.

"Hello, sir," he said in his politest businessman tone as he shook the offered hand firmly. Or as firmly as a regular human male could.

"Yes, your speech seems to be exactly what the crowd wanted to hear. Congratulations."

Marcelo recalled Brooke getting Stephanie out of the naked flaming angel of death mode when he was again absolutely useless. Now, he could go find a drive-by to get in front of. He marshaled up the right blandly polite facade to put on his face.

"Sir? You're engaged to my daughter. I think you can call me Sebastian, boy." He clapped Marcelo on the back, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make him think about balance.

"I'm curious about something, though. What is it you you want in this world, Marcelo? People don't come anywhere near the Hellfire Club and certainly not to my daughter, without beind driven by something." Sebastian looked at him carefully for a moment, trying to size him up. "Not money, you've enough of that of your own. Power? A grand mission of some sort?"

"Thank you for the offer, but no. We're not familiar enough for that, Mr. Shaw." Which came from a normally warm and friendly Brazilian. Who thankfully had enough balance in his legs to not stumble at the force on his back. Marcelo wanted nothing to do with this entitled jackass. And New York upper society, it didn't bat a lash at a white man calling him 'boy.' Homesick pangs hit him underneath everything else.

"I'm driven by what you would call sentimentality. I think the novelty of it drew your daughter's attention." Marcelo was almost sure the man wouldn't understand how parental death would be a driving force.

"Very well." Sebastian shrugged and sipped his drink. "I suppose that will be changing soon enough, won't it?"

New York upper society would've frowned upon Sebastian for being Irish, let alone Marcelo for being black, if they'd had the chance. The key was to have so much power and clout that nobody could say anything about it.

"Sentimentality." Sebastian repeated his word for a moment. "But what, specifically? Surely you must have a goal or a cause."

"Stephanie, of course, wants to make the world a better and safer place for mutants. And for mutant and human coexistence." Sebastian chuckled. "You certainly can't call her a hypocrite on that regard, can you?"

"No, I don't suspect it will. I'm marrying your daughter, not you," he answered honestly. He was getting tired. Tired of his own constant fear and regret every night since Veridian had been attacked. Tonight just pushed things to almost unbearable. Marcelo could only cling to that he was in the right.

"My goal? To make sure no child no matter their station in life does not go through what I did. That is why Veridian works with law enforcement, agriculture, and energy production rather than putting all our eggs into the military industrial complex."

He snagged a drink off a passing waiter's tray and took a swig. It didn't matter what the hell it was as long as there was the soft burn of alcohol. "No, I can't. She is refreshingly honest."

Edited 2013-12-15 03:32 (UTC)

"Then allow me to be equally honest, Marcelo." Sebastian replied.

"I do not give you my blessing or permission to marry into my family and sully the future of the Hellfire Club, of Shaw Industries." Sebastian looked over to Stephanie.

Though the literal words, while hostile, would not likely be taken as an outright threat to any people in the public who might have heard it, the context was clear. He was not known for an ability to graciously hear dissenting views from his. Especially not from people he considered to be his enemies, as Marcelo more and more clearly was showing himself to be.

"You will not be marrying my daughter."

Marcelo laughed at that like it was a quaint joke. He took another sip of his drink.

"I frankly don't care for your blessing nor do I need your permission to marry her. You are not my father, and you certainly have done little to nothing to earn that title for her. I don't care to join your sycophantic family. Any business between Veridian and Shaw Industries contracted during Stephanie's leadership will run its course and then I will have nothing to do with the company so long as you control it."

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A Grand Soiree [Open to anyone with potential business at the NYC branch of the Hellfire Club]

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