nextgenerationmarvel | Chariots of Fire Are On Their Way

Entry tags:

Chariots of Fire Are On Their Way

The American Museum of Natural History was set ablaze with lights and the mingling scents of exotic flowers perfumed the cool evening air. Brooke Wyngarde had put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into arranging for this soirée, and she was going to be damned if anyone was going to ruin it for her. After all, this was to welcome Stephanie Shaw da Silva and Marcelo Alencar da Silva back to Manhattan and, most importantly, receive them as a newly wedded couple.

Thus, Brooke had pulled out all the stops. Everyone who was anyone who knew the Shaws or the da Silvas had been invited (though Brooke had also dutifully chopped some of the more unsavory names off of her list). The food was a delightful blend of American-Brazilian-Spanish fusion. The cocktails were some of the most popular ones from Brazil, and only the finest Spanish wines were served. The music was live, big band-style stuff, because this was not some hideous high school Kiss on the Lips party.

Brooke herself, being the hostess of the event, may have gone just a tad bit overglam when it came to her look for the night, but then she was certain that she was going to be gracing many a society page the next morning.

She needed to look great, and she certainly did as she stood next to the entrance of the Arthur Ross Terrace, receiving guests for the cocktail hour which would precede that night's dinner, directing them towards the guest sign-in book, the gift table, and everything else.

She hoped, she prayed, that everything that night went off without a hitch.

After all, the supervillains only crash the weddings of the A-List superheroes, right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Caught my eye while I was in Japan. I love a culture that can make something beautiful without sacrificing the functionality of it."

Clubbers are so good at it, they can even do it without lying.

Alistaire puts a hand on her hip as they dance. Far enough apart to leave room for the conversation, but close enough to not be tacky. "Certainly not; but perhaps that could change." He deftly maneuvers Brooke around a partygoer who clearly should have stopped two drinks ago. A nod of his head and his bodyguard moves to escort them from the floor.

"I'm at something of an impasse. A dissatisfaction with upper management that I'm not sure how to resolve without bringing in outside help."

Brooke was a woman who was prone to living most of her adult life in ridiculously high heeled designer shoes and dresses that would never be practical enough to be designated casual day wear. She didn't care about functionality as long as there was beauty.

A meticulously groomed eyebrow arched itself. "By upper management, do you mean Sebastian or Selene?" Surely he wasn't talking about Emma. "Or is there something else afoot that I need to be aware of?"

"There's a line that was crossed that I can't forgive. Although that's probably not the best choice of words... better to say it's something that I can't be paid to tolerate." He looks to his security, who gets a faraway look, before nodding. Good, psychic airwaves around here are quiet. He and Brooke aren't in immediate danger of exposure.

"Going back on my decision and turning down the job offer would have been suicide. He doesn't respect me as much as he does Stephanie, in his perverse way. It would have been an open act of rebellion, and I wasn't ready for it. I'm still not, frankly.

That's why I need your assistance." Such a more genteel and dignified word than 'help'.

"I need to start learning how to 'feel'. Something your intersection of talents and temperament are uniquely qualified for." He states, giving her a modest twirl before he continues. "Adrenaline, dopamine, endorphines... these are things I understand, and they're what I spent my life in the pursuit of. All without ever making one of them come out of or be the result of a needle. Hope, love, fear, faith, remorse... I can observe them, and put them to profit, but it's all clinical.

This is where I've come to. I need to reach his level. Control my emotions, rather than not have them. That's the evolution I need next.

I don't expect to ever be friends, but I'm not looking to make any more enemies. My resources are more flush than they've ever been, even without the recent acquisitions overseas. What can I offer you?"

Brooke remained silent, listening as Alistaire spoke. There was much that was said that Brooke herself certainly hadn't expected. The faintest of Mona Lisa smiles lifted the corners of her raspberry-glossed lips as she listened to Alistaire.

"It's a handsome offer, Mr. Shaw," Brooke replied after a moment. "And as much as it amuses and flatters me that the Black King needs the Red Rook's aid...I'm afraid I'm not quite as fit to help you as you may have been led to believe." There was, shockingly, no vitriol in her tone, nor was she putting Alistaire down. In fact, Brooke was showing a surprising amount of restraint.

Apparently being the hostess did change things about one's own demeanor.

"There's much that I'm still learning about my powers - how to use them, how to control them. How to fine-tune them. Rachel and - shockingly - Emma Frost are both helping me with that, and we've made some progress, but evidently...sociopathic tendencies of my own are getting in the way of that." It was something that Alistaire himself would surely understand, being a clinical sociopath himself. "Believe me, it isn't easy for me to admit not having an upper hand but here...I simply don't."

Alistaire takes stock of Brooke's reply, still dancing effortlessly around the floor with her. "I see."

His voice is measured and even, lacking some of the earlier flamboyance as he calculates his response. "Well then... what about Summers and Frost?" He draws one of her arms past him, bringing his own hand close enough to tap a finger to his temple. "Do you think they could unlock this?

Alliances are Emma's stock in trade, and I don't think I've ever done the X-Men any wrong. What are my chances of them being willing to help a fellow mutant in need of... well, let's call it 'specialized psychiatric care'?"

He quiets for a moment. "War is coming, Brooke, whether I make the first shot across the bow or not. He's going to make a move on Stephanie, and I can't allow that. One way or another, I need to ready myself."

"Grey-Ramsey," Brooke said softly. "She hasn't been Summers for a very, very long time, Alistaire." She sighs softly. "Rachel wouldn't. For the most part, she wants nothing to do with connections to the Hellfire Club. You do realize that every time Rachel severed ties with your little Cajun spiced tart it was because of you, right? I mean, not that I minded. That hideous excuse for English that she used desperately needed subtitles, and we had no mutant around to grant that power. At least now we don't need to try and decipher her verbal hieroglyphics. Lord only knows how you put up with it for so long." Brooke smiled thinly.

"Emma...I'm not nearly as close to her as I am to Rachel. And saying that Rachel and I are close might not quite be the right word from her point of view. You would need to speak to her, but I'm not certain how helpful she might be towards Sebastian Shaw's grandchild." She raised a small eyebrow. "You're not very well liked in our circle, Alistaire. Surely you must have realized that. War or not, there may not be that many people who are willing to have your back."

If there was one thing that Brooke should ever have been appreciated for - not including her wonderfully ladylike sense of style and fine breeding - it was that her honesty was as brutal as a bullet to the brain.

Alistaire gives a light grunt of affirmation at the clarification about namings. He really did need to get around to caring, one of these days. Which, he supposed, was rather the point of this whole venture.

"Alisa has her value, if only she'd accept what it truly is." He gives a shrug, before dipping Ms Wyngarde close to the floor. "I think I may still make a run at Xavier's lot. Last time I tried speaking with them, I didn't have a common enemy to offer them." He whispers, before righting them both.

He smirks as the discussion turns to Emma. "Oh I'm well aware of how she'll feel about me being his grandchild. I'm sure she'll feel more strongly about him being him.

My evolution aside, the most important thing at this stage isn't getting people to have my back. I just need enough of them to not have Sebastian's. I think I may have an easier time pointing out that he's gone quite mad, than persuading people to like me." He pauses. "But... 'not many' isn't the same as 'not any'. Whom would you suggest I start with?

Oh, and before I forget, dearie, soft re-opening for the first hotel I bought is this coming weekend. Lovely old building. Only one hundred and eight rooms, but the spa is exceptional, and the head chef for the main restaurant makes a ceviche worth begging for."

Because 'worth killing for' isn't really such an exceptional length to go to, in their crowd.

"Monopoly money has more value than Alisa LeBeau," Brooke replied. "What you ever saw worthy in her, I'll never understand. Especially to chase after her so repeatedly and desperately."

"You can try all you like with Rachel and Emma, Alistaire, but I know for a fact that Rachel will have a side of her own that's neither yours nor Sebastian's. The same could easily be said for Emma. You know she's always danced to her own tune." Her eyes darted around, taking stock of everyone in the room, making sure that nothing was off. She would be concerned until the party was over, after all.

"Honestly, I'm not certain. You may have to dig into the Hellfire Club archives. Emma Steed, Courtney Ross...someone else who has connections willing to back you somehow."

He laughs gently. "If I actually had to chase, it wouldn't be interesting. How easily she returns to her habits is entertaining."

Alistaire smirks. "For a queen, Emma really is more like a jester to the universe, in her elegant way. As long as she gets to play, it's a win.

I'll come up with something..." And, for a moment, Alistaire Shaw actually looks somber. "I can't not come up with a resolution for this situation." He looks across the room at Stephanie. "Not this time."

"She does possess the mental constitution of ping-pong ball, it's true, with her forever volleying between two extremes."

She arches an eyebrow and follow his gaze. "I honestly didn't think you cared a whit for Stephanie. Unless there's something else afoot where you absolutely need her on your side, and this is all just a game until that time comes."

"I do... very much, in my way. Probably something close to your way." He shrugs a shoulder, still dancing with her.

"I'm amoral, Brooke... not a sadist. I don't gain any satisfaction of seeing good ripped down or corrupted just for the sake of corruption. Stephanie is a better person than I could ever aspire to be, however much emotions I might gain access to. I won't let her father ruin her."

"She's the closest thing I will ever have to a sister," Brooke said. "Which is why I wanted to host this reception for her, and why I want to give up all of my preconceived notions and actually become friends with Marcelo. Stephanie's family." More family than her actual family would ever be. "Stephanie's also, hands down, one of the strongest women I know. She's Ororo Munroe-levels of strong - smart, wise, tough as nails, and capable of handling everything that life can and will throw at her. You want a resolution? Work with her. Don't try to be some dashing knight who's going to protect her, because that woman doesn't need to be protected. Allies, sure. Informants, of course. A man on the inside is always helpful. But she's no damsel in distress that needs the men in her life to secret her away and fight for her honour. She's more than capable of handling that on her own."

"I'd hoped by not allying directly with her it would conceal my hand from Sebastian for as long as possible, but you may be right." He gives the Red a nod of respect. He's nearly finished their circuit of the dance floor, coming back towards Alexander again.

"Any parting thoughts?

And really, do come to the opening."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Chariots of Fire Are On Their Way

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject