Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Scott had never enjoyed parties, had never looked forward to a large gathering full of mostly strangers. It’d be a lot easier to endure, though, if you were here, Jean. That, of course, was a forlorn hope- it’d been over two years and he knew that he was supposed to be, or already have, moved on from her loss. Everyone else seemed to be able to do it- even Wanda, who he’d learned some months later, had been in love with Jean too. But she loved Kurt too, and just under a year after Cape Citadel, the two had started dating again and remained a couple.

Scott was happy for them, was glad that Wanda could find some happiness amid the multiple griefs of her life, with her relationship with her father utterly destroyed, and with Pietro nearly so. I’ve got to stop dwelling on this right now. I wish I could go out into the field instead of being here. Am I really that necessary? My father’s the one doing all the real negotiating. Hank and Betsy are more than capable of making our presence here.

He could get by when he was able to keep himself busy, when he was either leading the X-Men into combat or deep into coursework in what was a rather punishing course load. People frequently counseled him to make sure he rested enough, but the truth was that it was the nighttime that was often the worst, when he was left alone with his thoughts, knowing that he’d never again be able to wake up and see Jean there. That they’d never be able to resume their quixotic quest for the Westchester Bobcat, that they’d never have the future together they always hoped for.

“And I thought I was bored.” Scott turned at the sound of the crisp voice towards Emma Frost, a twenty-one year old woman who also happened to be a billionaire who ran a colossal media empire, including a national television network. “You look as if you’d like to remove those fetching red glasses of yours and obliterate every single last one of us. Perhaps I should be standing behind you.” She had a glass of champagne in each hand, offering one to him.

“Uh, I’m still about a year underaged.” Scott replied slightly awkwardly at the drink, not wanting to be impolite and at the same time not particularly wanting to talk to her or anyone else at the moment. He didn’t want to obliterate anyone. He just wanted to go home and work on Danger Room programs or fix up the Blackbird or his car and try to ignore the need to limp off alone to his room for as long as possible. Champagne wouldn’t help with that. The fact that he didn’t particularly trust Emma Frost or any of the Hellfire Club’s elite didn’t help either.

“It’s the Hellfire Club, darling. Do you think anyone is going to care if you have a little champagne?” Emma smiled thinly. “Unless you think I’ve done something to it. Can you imagine the scandal? Billionaire media empress roofies unsuspecting boy. I don’t think even I could bury that. Indulge me. I may not be feeling quite as bitter as you, but this isn’t exactly my vision of an ideal party either.”

Scott couldn’t help but chuckle at the joke. He kind of loved dark humour, which regularly surprised people- only Wanda really seemed to understand that. He shrugged and took the drink. “I’m not much of a party guy. But I guess you probably knew that already.” She probably knew a lot of things already. He hadn’t exactly been shy about his thoughts and he remembered, with some chagrin, that she was a telepath. It always kind of amazed him, how many telepaths there seemed to be around.

“I don’t need telepathic powers to figure out that much. Shame, really, you don’t look half-bad in that suit.” Emma sipped her champagne. “I mean, I’d certainly suggest a little retailoring, but considering that I imagine you bought it off the rack, it’s surprisingly adequate.” That at least seemed to jive about what he knew about Emma Frost, a woman who was always ready with some sort of veiled insult. Though he wasn’t sure if that was actually intended as such.

“If I meant to insult you, you’d know it. Anyway, why would I do that?” Emma raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I suppose, though, from your perspective- you’re wondering why I came over here to talk to you in the first place. What nefarious plot could I possibly be looking to advance? What vile conspiracy?” Scott had to admit he’d had the thought. Certainly, if she could read his emotions, even if she couldn’t read his actual thoughts, she’d get the idea that he wasn’t incredibly social.

“I guess I’ll have to find out.” Scott decided that he was going to throw caution to the winds and have a sip of the drink- bubbliness and the flavour of wine weren’t things that he immediately thought made a good combination, but other sip and he found he kind of liked it. “Thanks for the drink, though.” The thought of getting completely drunk did flit through his mind, but he knew that there was no way he’d escape through any substances. Alcohol just breaks down inhibitions. I’d end up a sobbing mess, probably.

“Well, what sort of hostess would I be if I didn’t make sure you at least sampled the champagne we spent many thousands of dollars on?” Emma took another sip of hers. “There’s fifty dollars in that glass you’re drinking, by the way.” Scott found himself sipping it again and concluding that if it really was some sort of particularly special kind of champagne, he’d be unlikely to tell the difference. I probably make a pretty awful rich kid. Oh well.

“Your lack of class consciousness is disturbing, yes, but not insurmountable. Some would consider that you have a fairly impressive common touch.” Emma finished her champagne and set it on a passing tray. “You certainly have impressive skills in other fields. A gift for leadership that could, if you so desired, translate to endeavours beyond leading about dangerously unstable people in garish costumes to battle even more dangerously unstable people in even worse costumes. Your father, Sebastian, they all have their gifts, but they’re not young. They know intellectually, but don’t really understand that the mutant race is a youth movement. As far as mutants go, Scott, we’re actually old. ”

“You sound like you’re proposing an alliance, Emma. Hasn’t that already happened? Isn’t that why we’re here?” Scott raised an eyebrow and finished his champagne. It didn’t particularly seem her style to compliment someone simply to be nice and if she somehow found him attractive, his thoughts would’ve made that pretty clear that wasn’t going to happen. Not that she herself wasn’t attractive, as a matter of fact, she was gorgeous, almost impossibly so, but he wasn’t even entirely certain he was capable of really wanting another woman. The very thought felt like a betrayal.

“Between your father and the Hellfire Club? Certainly.” Emma replied, neatly finding another glass of champagne, though Scott noticed the next sip was a far daintier one. “But I’m quite certain this is the longest conversation that the two of us have had. Which really seems a shame, considering that you and I, respectively, shine the brightest in our respective firmaments.” Scott tried very hard not to mentally project the incredible eyeroll that he couldn’t possibly resist.

“Roll your eyes as you must, but it’s true. I cannot imagine you’ve heard terribly flattering things about me from Elisabeth or Piotr, but the fact is that we share an interest in finding and guiding young mutants. We have different, but I believe, complimentary approaches. I manipulate people.” She sipped her glass. “You inspire them. I like subtlety and you have a talent for direct action.” Her gaze drifted towards his. “I have a special project that I have been working on and I would like to bring you in on it.”

“Don’t imagine that I could find a lot of time for it, between school and the superheroics in garish costumes.” Scott noted dryly, finding himself another glass of champagne. “So I’m probably going to have to say thanks, but no thanks to that. It was nice of you to consider me, though. And thanks for the drink.” He took another sip of the champagne, feeling the first one already start to hit him. It really was pretty good, though he still wished it was a beer instead.

“You know, it’s terribly rude to so cavalierly dismiss a lady when she’s explaining her special project.” Emma reached over to grasp his champagne. “And while it’s all well and good to have a drink, that particular mentality is a fabulous way to end up right in alcoholism.” She indicated with her head slightly to where Harry Leland was barely on his feet, having switched from glasses of champagne to an entire bottle. “Do you know, that Harry there could be one of the most powerful mutants in the world? His power is gravity control. If he weren’t morbidly obese and miserably alcoholic, he could rival Magneto. He doesn’t look depressed, but he’s been a shell of a man since Sebastian took over the Inner Circle. You can tell me to shove off if you like, once you’ve actually listened to me, but do take that warning into account.” Emma let go of the glass, though the appeal had gone and Scott simply rested it on a nearby table.

“Okay, fine.” Scott replied, taking a breath. “I wouldn’t want to be rude.” He smiled a little grimly, but the truth was that he was a little intrigued at what Emma Frost both considered so important and wanted him in on. He also figured that it wouldn’t be anything too obviously evil, because she wouldn’t have broached the idea to him if she didn’t think there was at least a reasonable chance that he’d go for it. Fine, Emma Frost, you’ve got your audience.

“Your X-Men are very impressive, but they’re mostly known qualities, people who you only have a limited opportunity to shape. Now, you’ve got a very lovely school set up there. Spectacular and unique facilities. But it’s all a little hands-off. The new generation of mutants cropping up needs strong guidance and a constant, living example that they can accomplish great things with a little discipline.” Emma daintily sipped her champagne. “Unlike just about everyone else in the Hellfire Club, I actually believe in the value of a good education. If you can actually believe it, I’m in education.”

Scott was suddenly reminded of Jean, who had wanted nothing more than to be a teacher, who could have been a doctor, could have been a scientist, taken any number of routes to wealth or glory, but believed there was no greater calling than educating young people. She hadn’t had the chance to follow her dream very far, though in a very short time she’d helped Longshot improve his reading skills dramatically.

Even vaguely comparing Jean to Emma Frost, however, made him almost physically ill. He had no special reason to dislike Emma, but Jean had been selfless and he couldn’t imagine Emma ever putting someone else’s interests truly over her own. I shouldn’t be so uncharitable. And I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss people. It annoyed him that Emma could probably sense every single one of his thoughts just as he was having it, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to use that knowledge.

“What do you want?” Scott replied, not terribly worried if it came off a little harshly. More than anything, he simply wanted Frost to get to the point. What does she want from me? It seems sort of vaguely-perhaps interesting, but I don’t like this beating around the bush. “I mean, you say you value education and that’s a nice-sounding platitude, but what are you talking about, actually, in the here and now?”

“I want to find or assemble a group of young people and for the two of us to take a direct hand in their education and training. We’re both strong academically, I’m an accomplished socialite and you’re a proven tactician. Now, in a nice world, none of the theoretical young people that we would be mentoring would ever need to fight, but I think you and I both know that’s unlikely. The Xavier Institute has unique technological resources and expertise and the Hellfire Club has social and political contacts that you can scarcely even imagine.

The fact is, that I think you and I could accomplish a great deal together, Scott. So what do you think? I can tell you’re at least somewhat intrigued, by the way. Your thoughts aren’t exactly difficult to sense-” Which meant that she knew all about his thoughts about Jean, though she seemed to have the good grace not to mention them at all.

That’s when Scott heard the faint roar of a jet engine, his eyes immediately inclined above him. Directly above us.

“What are you doing?” Emma looked up. “Probably just some ridiculous jetliner flying above us.”

“No. It’s not.” He reached over to remove his watch, which immediately shifted into his hands into the additional component necessary to turn his civilian-wear red sunglasses into his combat visor. The faint roar of jet engines had become louder and glasses were clattering. Guests were still with panic, not sure what was happening. He tapped the side of his visor, which activated communicators that his father, Hank and Betsy all wore. “Trouble. Hank, get my dad out of here. Betsy, keep civilians calm and try to get them out.” He looked at Emma. “You should do that too. Now.”

A huge section of the ceiling exploded down on the ground and Scott immediately let loose with a wide arc optic blast, trying to make sure that as much of the debris as possible didn’t hit anyone. Emma instinctively put up her hands to her ears, no doubt surprised by the nearly-deafening thundercrack his powers made, but immediately afterwards, he saw her eyes furrowed with concentration and literally dozens of nearby guests make an orderly but swift queue for the exists.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hank quickly grabbing the Professor and leaving. Other guests were calmly evacuating based on Betsy’s mental commands. He looked up at what was now a blank patch of evening sky as a multitude of humanoid shapes descended from the sky. Scott let loose with another optic blast, breaking one of them up in a way that suggested they were mechanical rather than human. Good. Won’t have to hold back.

The realization about what had happened hit him hard- Sentinels. These are the Sentinels. A trap? One that, judging by Emma’s outward attitude and willingness to take his orders, she wasn’t in on. Sebastian? Shaw had some sort of implant which blocked telepathy. The only person who could even communicate with him mentally was his assistant, Tessa. Shaw had assured them that the Sentinels were simply sitting in underground facilities gathering dust. That was clearly not the case.

As it happened, the man himself dashed forward, his eyes wide in surprise and rage, which suggested that perhaps he wasn’t behind this after all- which left some disturbing questions. Who else could possibly have ordered an attack like this? The government? It seemed like a strange time to do so, however. The Hellfire Club was closely allied with several people in the government. Tessa was a close adviser to the President himself.

“Tessa, put on your damned interface glasses and transmit the kill code.” Sebastian barked out as the Sentinels drew closer. His eyes went towards Scott for a moment as he let loose another blast. “Your blasts, boy. What are they made of? Heat or force?” He noticed that the man was stomping the ground impatiently, though as he looked closely, Scott noticed the stone tiles of the floor were breaking underneath him. Superpowers? I didn’t know he had any worth mentioning.

“Force, sir. Concussive force.” Scott replied. There was no point lying about it. Tessa could have identified his powers perfectly in an instant anyway. He had a feeling, too, that Shaw was asking for a very specific reason.

“Hit me. As hard as you can. They’ll land to begin apprehension- if their programming hasn’t been entirely subverted, they won’t even recognize me until I’ve destroyed several of them.” Scott didn’t wait to ask the obvious question, figuring the man knew what he was getting into well enough and blasted Sebastian with his optic blasts. To his surprise, the man didn’t go flying, or even fall down. He simply basked in it as if it were sunlight. After a second or two of continuous blasting, Scott turned his attention back towards the skies.

“Much obliged.” Sebastian grasped a column from the hall, ripping it out and hurling it up into the sky as if it were some sort of bullet. The whole movement was so fast as to be a virtually invisible blur, recognizable mostly from the astonishing impact it had on the Sentinel as the targeted Sentinel flew apart into tiny pieces. Sebastian immediately went to the next one, about to do the same thing.

“Do you think that’s a good idea, sir? It may be unwise to tear out too many of those-” The last thing they needed was even more structual damage to a building in which there were still a huge number of civilians, though the number was dwindling quickly, thanks to the efforts of Betsy and Emma. It was clear from the expression on Tessa’s face as she crouched beneath a marble table that she was having no success.

“I was an engineer by training. These columns are decorative more than functional.” Sebastian hurled the pillar at another Sentinel, which virtually exploded. At least we seem well-capable of harming them. They were getting close enough that they were shooting back now, with beams of energy flattening portions of the room. One of them hit Sebastian, but for all the harm it did, it might as well have been a pillow. How tough is this guy?

“Scott, I’ve called the others in, they’ve finished their mission, they should be here in a few minute- oh dear.”

“Yeah. I see it.” A colossal shadow loomed over the gaping hole in the roof of the building, this particular Sentinel standing over a hundred feet tall. Scott hit it with an optic blast, but it seemed to inflict little or no damage. It responded with a blast from its eyes that Scott had to leap to avoid, landing heavily on his ankle. He cursed at the spike of pain as he got back on his feet, but he had no choice but to keep moving.

“Pierce.” Sebastian hissed. “I will tear him limb to limb for this. Perhaps when this is all done, there will be a place in our Inner Circle for your father.”

“I’m sure he’d love to be around to have that conversation later. Help’s on the way. We just have to stay alive until then.” Another blast hurtled his way, but Sebastian moved in front of him swiftly, absorbing the force of it, once again, looking absolutely none the worse for it, save for ruining the front of what he imagined was a very expensive coat.

“Until then, it would seem it’s the two of us. Our lovely lady friends and their telepathy isn’t of any particular use here- Tessa, why haven’t you got inside their AI routines yet?” Sebastian hurled a huge piece of what was once the roof.

“I’m locked out completely. I could get into it with time, but Sentinel AIs aren’t exactly easy to hack into. Your friends will be here long before then. Let us hope we can hold out until then.”

Easier said than done. There’s a lot of them and effectively only two of us.