nextgenerationmarvel | Something Wicked This Way Comes

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Current Location: X-Mansion

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Something Wicked This Way Comes

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” Brooke Wyngarde muttered to herself as she stared at the thick, artistically wrought iron gates that separated the Xavier Mansion from the world around it. “I just…I can’t.” But here she was, sitting outside the Mansion for the last fifteen minutes, working up her nerves to make this next step. Her father had temporarily returned home to England to work on some stuff, and Brooke found that she desperately needed to be around her own kind – and not necessarily the Hellfire Club, even if she was the Red Rook now.

Besides, she needed to learn more about her powers and how to utilize them, and the Xavier Institute…well, that was essentially the Yale or the Harvard of mutant education, weren’t they? Besides, it’s not as though she was here to befriend anyone or, god forbid, join the X-Men. She was just making herself the best possible mutant that she could be - and maybe she'd find some allies on the way.

After all, if I’m going to be queen one day…

Pursing her lips, Brooke let herself out of the car and smoothed down her Nanette Lepore skirt. She let herself through the gates and walked down the pathway towards the front door, her heart beating wildly with each step. She had never really dealt with the X-Men very much before, but her father had been one of Emma Frost’s Hellions, and her mother had never really been too fond of the X-Men. She didn’t know whether or not to expect a welcome wagon, or the Danger Room attacking her somehow.

She was visibly relieved when she reached the front door. After a moment’s hesitation, Brooke finally reached up and rang the doorbell.

Here goes nothing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Or someone just got married and David is being sneaky as hell.

"Cool. She's nice," he says with a zen-like nod. And no one can pull anything on Rachel or his Dad. He's not going to say that though.

Brooke got the feeling that the boy was feeling maybe a little pleased with himself. She brushed that away. He had probably led the last visitor astray, and was now happy that he was leading her in the right direction.

She really didn't get devious off of him, so she knew that he wasn't leading her to the danger room.

"I need all the nice I can get," Brooke stated. She turned to the right and saw a picture of the original five X-Men flanking Professor X. She rolled her eyes. Their costumes had been so dorky, even for back then. "So, what do you do?"

"Enhanced senses," he says plainly.

"By the way do you want a breather before you meet her?" Okay he can try being nice. "Your heart was pounding like a hammer."

His senses are just that good. He also isn't a total ass. He's about to throw her to the wolves so to speak. At least it might feel that way to her.

Brooke flashed him a smile. "That's sweet, but I'm sure I can handle myself well enough with dear old Mrs. Ramsey," Brooke replied. "What is she, Xavier's sister or something?"

"Old?" He gives her a look then bursts out laughing. He can't help it.

Rachel will not be amused but she's pretty enough that age doesn't matter. He'll never say that around her or think it.

"Trust me. She's here on her own merits. She's good and occasionally scary."

"Okay, so she's not old," Brooke said a little tartly. "Bad assumption. Besides, I hardly doubt she's any scarier than Wolverine or Storm." Both of whom worried Brooke plenty. One was a hairy ball of rage, the other could probably flash-fry Brooke in nanoseconds. "Just as long she's welcoming and open-minded, that's absolutely all that I need."

That just has him amused as hell. He's so glad that she's probably not a telepath. It'd mess with him pulling a fast one on her.

"She can be pretty nice considering the trouble me and my sister get into. When my brother drops in Mr Summers tends to call us the 'little hell beasts'.... We are't that bad."

Just one car getting ruined and you're marked for life apparently. He stops at the door and gives in a firm knock. "Mrs Ramsey? We have a guest who wants to speak with someone at the school."

He flashes Brooke a somewhat charming smile. "Good luck Miss Wyngarde."

And he quickly retreats to avoid bursting out laughing again.

The door opened even though Rachel sat at her desk. She was occasionally gesturing and paperwork sorted itself out. Just back from her honeymoon, she needed to get things in order before classes began shortly.

"Come in," she beckoned absently.

Okay. A telekinetic. I can see why...what was his name? Robert? Michael? David. David? Something similarly plain, in any case. I can see why he'd call her scary. Because, telekinetic.

Brooke stepped in, a bright, sunny smile gracing her pretty face.

The smile fell as soon as she saw the redhead behind the desk.

"Oh crap." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at that greeting. Not that it wasn't earned. She had a pleasant smile. She also had her defenses up to make herself as unreadable as possible.

"Miss Wyngarde, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" The papers settled into neat piles and stopped fluttering around. The door shut behind Brooke.

Brooke forced the smile back onto her face. "Mrs. Ramsey. Congratulations on your newly wedded status," she said warmly. She was here, after all, to get help, which meant suppressing her baser, yet far superior, instincts. Brooke stepped further into the room. "To be perfectly honest - and believe me when I say that this is difficult to admit - I need help." She slipped into one of the chairs across from Rachel's desk, and placed her purse in the seat next to hers. "Honing my powers, making connections, that sort of thing. It seems as though everyone who is everyone goes here, and well..." Brooke's smile grew a few degrees warmer, "I think it would be good for me to be her, amongst my own." Especially if I am going to rule all of the Hellfire Clubs under my sole sovereignship one day.

Rachel leaned back in her chair. She glanced over the well-appointed young woman. "If it's a genuine overture for help, I'll talk to the rest of the senior staff. Which includes the hairy, smelly, beer-swilling little one with claws."

It's amazing what a telepath could pick from other people hearing something. "As for honing your powers, the instructor for that would most likely be me. Unless you would prefer a different mentalist."

If Brooke paled, she didn't allow it to change the expression on her face. Of course she heard that, she thought. She's one of the world's most powerful telepaths. She blinked. And my grandfather screwed with her mother's mind. She blinked again. Please don't go all fiery-raptor-woman on me.

...She'd probably heard that too.

"I just wasn't sure how he would react to a bonafide member of the Hellfire Club arriving on the school's doorstep," Brooke replied. "Besides, I understand that this would need to be brought up in front of a panel before anything was decided, given my family's history with your institution." That's right, Brooke. Try to sound as smart and together as humanly possible. "Besides, as for honing my powers...well. You were the Phoenix." Which, in this case, was a positive.

While Rachel was not reading Brooke's mind, she was getting the drift of what young miss Wyngarde was thinking from her body language. Doug might have been to blame for this body language watching.

"Speaking of the Hellfire Club and membership, you will not be allowed to recruit for said club on the grounds of the school," Rachel clarified before it came an issue. She leaned forward and laced her fingers together as she placed her hands on top of her desk. A faint outline of the Phoenix appeared around her left eye. "And I will be again."

Brooke had the good sense to look appalled at the thought that Rachel would even suggest such a thing. "I would never," she said, "do something like that in however many years you would like me to never do something like that." She pushed forward feelings of trust and confidence - not towards Rachel, specifically, but simply around Brooke herself. She also tried not to be disturbed by the little Phoenix emblem hovering over Rachel's eye.

That was less easy. The Phoenix was a scary, scary thing. Brooke had heard so many horror stories about it.

"Yes. Well. I suppose that would be expected."

"I think a lifetime would be unreasonable if not tempting to say. So, for however long you are going to be here under our roof." The power signature flickered out. Mostly because Rachel had better things to do than keep it going. Like sending out mental messages for the senior staff on the subject of the newest asylum seeker.

"Now, will you be staying on campus or making the hour commute from New York to be here on a daily basis?"

"Ah." Brooke blinked. She hadn't actually considered that. Her father had given her a very posh little apartment - so much better than the dumpy little one on One Fifth Avenue she'd been sharing with her mother. But truth be told, an hour's commute...

"It's moments like this where I wish I was a teleporter," Brooke said lightly. "Although I don't imagine that would be good for your skin. Or flying, for that matter, though that would also be hell on your hair." She smiled graciously. "I'm sure you can relate to that. If possible, I'd like to go back and forth. Stay here doing the week, go home during the weekends...that sort of thing. I mean, if that would be alright with the staff here."

"I can telekinetically keep my hair in place as I fly. Better for the ozone," she commented back with a slight smile. She could also rearrange it at whim. Stray thoughts sometimes lead to stray hairs, though.

"That would be acceptable," she said diplomatically because what came next would probably be harder for the girl to swallow. "While here, you will be under the same expectations as any student. No personal domestic workers unless you want them to work for everyone. Including some of your instructors who you aren't very fond of."

Brooke nodded her assent. "Of course. I can't imagine you'd want Sharona interfering with the help you already have around here. I mean, her heavily accented, heavily broken English would probably get in the way of your domestics, and we wouldn't want that."

Because, really, with a mansion this big, why wouldn't there be domestics?

Rachel barely managed to contain a bubble of laughter. Though she did before it became an undignified snort.

"No, Miss Wyngarde, you're not understanding it completely. There is no domestic help on campus. We believe in our students here being self-sufficient. In a world that hates and fears you, domestic help is a luxury we can't rely on."

Whatever pleasant expression there was on Brooke's face faded in an instant. "Surely there's a mutant somewhere with telekinetic control over household cleaning products. Or, you know, a mutant with control over dust. Have you checked some unfortunate place like Kentucky? That's where they would likely be born, you know."

It was oh so hard not to smile like the cat who got the canary, but Rachel managed a sense of decorum. Her family history with Brooke's family wasn't so pleasant that Rachel couldn't enjoy this, however.

"No, all the Guthries that are mutants have non-domestic powers. Especially Paige. I've heard stories of her skin leavings." Rachel had a glass of water floated over to beside Brooke. "Telekinetics are trained for things like surviving combat. Fine control of dust motes comes years down the road and is often abandoned for making black holes instead."

Rachel may have been stretching the truth a bit, but it was mostly true for herself. "There is no domestic help here. There is a cafeteria for student mealtimes, but as you're a bit older you'll have access to cook your own food. I think I can sign you up for Remedial Life Skills when we set up your power training schedule..."

Brooke stared at Rachel. She opened her mouth to say something dark and biting to tear the redhead down, but stopped herself.

Just barely.

"Cook my own...but I can go off campus to eat, right? I mean, I don't care how far away Asiate or Butter are, but cafeteria food..." Brooke paused, a lightbulb going off in her head. "How many students do we have living here, roughly?"

"You can go off-campus and spend your money to eat if you so desire. It's your money to spend how you will." Seeing rather than telepathically sensing a bright idea was a new experience for Rachel. Not that she possibly liked the idea coming from a Wyngarde.

"Quite a few. And none of them will be employed by you to do your domestic work."

"No no, that's not what I meant. See, I can hardly afford to hire a gaggle of maids to do the housework at the mansion here. But I could easily find a classically trained chef with a modern aesthetic to provide food for everyone in the...can we call it anything else besides a cafeteria? The Dining Hall. Yes, that sounds far less soup kitchen-y."

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