Operation: Xorn

[x-gambit.livejournal.com]

A most unwelcome visitor appear in the Snow Valley Center's lobby.



The conversation had been muted, Wisdom quietly sharing the details of Romany's information about the shared dream with Wanda and Betsy in the boardroom. Remy had just taken a flight over to Europe , claiming more guild business, even after he had only shown back up a couple of days ago, bruised and battered. There had been some conversation about it, mixed in with gossip about Marie-Ange and her Mountie, leading to no end of jokes from Mark and Amanda. In all, it was a quiet normal in the offices of the Snow Valley Memorial Center.

The elevator doors opened with a 'ping' and a man in a well tailored dark grey suit stepped out into the lobby. He was older, lightly tanned and moved with the kind of calm self-assuredness that came from immense personal control. He walked over to the front desk, interrupting Mark in his latest game of free cell. He put the expensive black leather briefcase down on the floor, and put both hands on the desk. It was the only detail that didn't fit the profile of successful lawyer or business man in the image. Burn scars covered both hands in random waves, disappearing up under the shirt cuffs.

"Can you please inform Mister Wisdom that Doctor Nathaniel Essex wishes to speak with him?"
"Wisdom?" Mark asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong place, sir." Good thing that Doug had given him one of those monitor cover things so this Essex fellow couldn't see him sending a quick OMG ALERT e-mail to Pete.

Feeling the cold Void seep its way inside her bones and settling, Betsy felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She paled she slowly rose, her dark eyes tracking the Void as it traveled along the main lobby, stopping at the front desk in front of a bewildered Mark. Circling her room, she saw the image of the man she loathed flashburned into Mark's mind. An image that already had Betsy moving away and out the door within a matter of moments. Her black trenchcoat whipping behind her as she descended the staircase.

"Young man, I must certainly do not. If you are going to attempt to obfuscate his location, do at least be effective about it." There was something almost sinister about the man, a firm and convinced aspect of power in his presence. "Mister Peter Wisdom, late of both British Intelligence and the Xavier's School. Oh, and until recently the White King of the Hellfire Club, I'm told. Mister Wisdom and I are former colleagues. Now if you would please inform him that I wish to speak with him."

Mark had to force himself to sit still and not shiver. There was something so frightening about this man, something he'd never experienced before. Not even the Warwolves had touched him in such a way. "Well, in that case," he said, the slightest hint of this abject terror seeping into his voice. He reached over to his phone and pressed a button. "Sir, there's a Doctor Essex here to see you." Good thing that Remy had been paranoid enough to suggest a mass call button be installed so everyone could be reached at once in such situations.

Wanda paused in mid-discussion with Wisdom, and frowned at the intercom. "He sounds off," she said, worried, throwing down her pen. "Obviously the call was for you but I will head down in case Mark needs a hand before you get there." That intercom use was very, very rarely utilized and with good reason.

It took her less than a minute to near the front but she slowed down and started to flip through a handful of mail she had grabbed on her way. "Mark, could you be a dear and send these out for me?" Wanda asked, striding into the area. "I need these to reach Cambridge fairly soon." She paused by the front desk and tilted her head. "Hello."

It didn't matter in the least if he had bought it, just that it placed her in the lobby with Mark.

"Good afternoon, Ms Maximoff. I was surprised to see your name on the staff list here, of course. It was always my assumption that you would be with Charles, working on capturing your rather lunatic father." Essex ' tones were cold and smooth, utterly polite and approperate, giving nothing away about what he honestly thought about the situation.

Even though there was a drop in her stomach, Wanda had no outwardly reaction other then a polite smile. "I fear you have me at a disadvantage," she said, knowing she had heard the name Essex before. Something from the files at the Mansion.

"Doctor Nathaniel Essex." He said, taking her hand in a firm grip. "I have worked with both Charles and Moira for a number of years. Genetic research."

Oh, that Essex. Wanda shook his hand just as firmly, smile never dropping. Well, this day was turning curiouser and curiouser, that was for sure. "And what brings you to Snow Valley , Doctor?" she asked, leaning against the desk as she took him in. A bit of worry, but more curiosity, had her intrigued as to why he had come, considering all the things she had heard about him.

"I need to speak with Mr Wisdom. It seems I'll have to speak with everyone else in the office first at this rate." Essex said dryly. "If you could show me to his office?"

"Alright," she agreed, straightening. Mark had, hopefully, been pressing the other neat little button, one that was tucked out of the way. It was the intercom button but with it out the way it meant that Pete, and everyone else, would have heard the conversation and gotten ready. For what, now that it remained to be seen. "Mark, I will take Dr. Essex back. Watch my calls, please?"

"No," Betsy said, as she made her way down the staircase and approached Mark and Wanda while her gaze never left Essex's cold eyes. "I think that's far enough." There was a preciseness to her movement. Focused. Determined. Though it did little to belay the fact that Elisabeth Braddock was teeming with a suppressed animalistic rage. "Actually," she stopped right in front of him. "If you do not leave the premises at once, they won't be able to find enough of your body to have a proper service and that's after I ritualistically excavate your internal organs and feed them to you."

"Ah, Ms Braddock. I trust you are in good health." Essex ' casual response could have been a drink order at the Carlyle. In the face of her fury, he was an icy and impervious statue. "My business is with Mister Wisdom today, but if you wish to speak once I'm finished, I can certainly make myself available."

"Mark, turn around" Betsy commanded, taking another step closer. "What I'm about to do should not be witnessed by the faint of heart."

Wanda simple watched, arms crossed, though she was tense to spring if the action called for it. However, it was highly unlikely she would step between Betsy and Essex, not if she valued her limbs. She knew what her coworker was capable of and this was a level of anger she'd never seen in her before.

Betsy pulled back the flap of her trenchcoat and revealed the two sais hidden within. She retrieved them and with a flick of her wrists twirled the dangerous three-pronged weapons precariously close to Essex 's physical person. "Funny thing what a couple of years will do to a person, especially after a little bit of manipulation. Lines they would normally never cross blur and then sometimes, quite possibly, they commit themselves to an inevitable , if not gruesome outcome. An outcome set into motion well before they took their step towards their Fate." She brought the tip of her right sai not so gently under Essex 's throat. "I know you don't believe in God, Nathaniel. But for your sake, I would advise prayer before you meet whatever higher power will claim your carrion-ridden soul."

At that, Wanda twisted her head and mouthed to Mark "Get Wisdom" as clearly as she could. This had to stop. But when she turned to look back, trying to study the lines of chaos for both of them, she took a step back, shuddering. There were plenty attached to Betsy but none of them were attached to Essex .

Essex didn't even seem to register the weapon at his throat. "Ms Braddock, I really do need to speak with Mr Wisdom. I'm sure that we can find time to catch up afterwards, no?"

"If you were stranded in the desert, dying of thirst and only needed a drop," she emphasized the last word with a non-subtle push of her right hand. "A drop of water to live. I wouldn't give it to you. So, no. No time for catch up. Leave or so help me, I will not hesitate to cut you down."
"Looks like I got here just in time." Pete strode into the room at a brisk pace, coming to a stop just beside the pair. "Not right now, Bets -" his tone was sympathetic, but hardened as he added " - and definitely not in the sodding office. Dr Essex isn't stupid enough to walk in here and ask for me without making sure that someone knows he's here."

"Ah, Mister Wisdom. The man I came to speak to." Essex reached up and with a single finger pushed the sai away from his throat, as if he was brushing a fly from his face, instead of facing death. "Your staff is quite dedicated, if somewhat colourful. A moment of your time, if you would, and then Ms Braddock can get back to killing me?"

"You invited this piece of excrement here of all places?" Betsy said, incredulously, looking darkly between the two men as if they were both conspiring against her. Cool pale amethyst eyes finally rested on Wisdom for an excruciating minute before coming to an internal decision. And with a sharp inhale of breath, Betsy surprisingly withdrew her sai and resheathed it. "So be it. I'm sure this absolutely does not include me. So, I'll be off....mangling something to keep myself occupied for the interim."

"I didn't invite him." Pete shrugged. "I'm just not willing to trade the amount of hassle killing him right here and now will cause for the sake of your revenge." He turned his gaze to Essex . "You've got to be fucking desperate to walk in here, squire, so this ought to be good. Let's get some coffee, and you can tell me all about it."

As the two men walked away, there was a cheerful ping from the elevator and Amanda stepped out, carrying a cardboard tray with various paper cups of coffee from the place downstairs. She paused, blinking at the tableau around Mark's desk. "Um," she said, taking in Betsy's stony expression, Wanda's concern and Mark's bemusement. "What'd I miss?"

Pete glanced back "Not sure yet. I'll tell you when I've had a chat with his satanic majesty here, but right now, I'd rather not have the rest of you hanging round any more walking Grand Jury investigations than, y'know, me and LeBeau, unless you absolutely have to."

Betsy was still staring at Pete's office when Amanda appeared. One hard look at the young girl and Betsy turned quickly towards the main entrance. She opened the door and slammed it shut with a reverberating bang that shook the door down to its hinges.



Both men fell into easy step to Wisdom’s office, Pete obviously not wanting to carry on this conversation in a public forum. Besides, a good third of his staff had been heavily involved with Essex , and might not have the same control that Betsy did.

“Mister Wisdom,” Essex took a seat uninvited, ignoring the stares that followed him into the office, or the glower from the man behind him. The doctor set his valise down beside the chair leg, flicking open the latch. “I had heard you spent some time as the White King of the Hellfire Club. I must say that I was surprised. Assuming the misfortunes of the odious Shaw were a result of your influence and that of the X-Men, it signals quite the shift from Charles’ normal choice of
operations.”

Pete gave a non-committal grunt as he has down, before explaining "It wasn't Charlie's idea, no, but the Club'd been fucking with the students just a bit too much, so we talked him into it. But neither of us are working there now, so let's talk about whatever bit of dirty work it is you need doing, and what you're offering in exchange..."

"I'm afraid it's nothing so simple, Mister Wisdom. I will have to request your indulgence for a moment by rolling up your right sleeve just past the elbow. I assure you that if you feel I am wasting your time after I have explained, you can call in Ms Braddock to eviscerate me." Essex had pulled a stack of files from his valise and sat with them held lightly.

Pete shrugged his jacket off, undid his cufflink, and rolled his sleeve back, glancing down at his arm, raising his eyebrows slightly as he noticed what was there.

Essex looked, and found the small circular red welt he'd expected. "Very good. This will make things easier. When did the dreams begin for you?"

Pete sighed. "Bollocks. I was hoping to file them under 'a bit fucking weird', and get on with me life. The other night. Why, is me arm about to turn green and drop off any minute?"

"If only things were that easy, Mr Wisdom." To Pete's surprise, Essex rolled up his own sleeve, to show an identical mark on his arm. "No, I'm afraid things are much more complex, and with far graver circumstances. Do you remember the night you received that mark?"

"Well, yeah. I was just a kid, and Johnny Rotten made kind of an impression." Pete grinned at the memory. "Why, are you about to tell me that we were both kidnapped, experimented on, and left with a false memory, or something?" He looked slightly annoyed with himself. "No. No matter how absurd my life might have gotten, I absolutely refuse to believe that that could have happened."

"It's almost as unbelievable. You likely don't remember but the other event that night was a strange happening with a young Chinese engineering student. No one seems to remember the details correctly, but the consensus is that he 'exploded' into light. Everyone that I've spoken with writes it off to drugs or cheap kit malfunctioning." Essex slid his sleeve back down, covering the mark and some of his burn scars.

"That student was a mutant, and manifested that night in the club. Everyone who was there bears the same identical mark. The student, Kim Ye-Xorn by the way, had a scar there from a hot oil burn as a child. When he manifested, he imprinted with us both physically and mentally." Essex' power was as a mutant null. No powers could touch him, not even Xavier's. Now he was saying this Xorn could. "Those are not dreams that you, your sister, myself, and everyone else is having. It's a message."

Pete leant back, settling his own sleeve back down. "This is going nowhere pretty, right? We're talking about a talent that's going to break the needle on the usual device for measuring mutant talents, aren't we?" He drummed his fingers on the desk. "OK, I have a couple of guesses as to why I've never heard of him until today, so let's skip to the really big question: why am I hearing about him now?"

"Because those messages and my own research indicates that Xorn believes his existence is being threatened. It's a reflexive action to send out a sort of distress signal, since it is unlikely he even can understand the concept of individual thought and action at this point." Essex placed the set of folders on Wisdom's desk. "For whatever reason, if someone attempts or succeeds in ending his life, the repercussions could be catastrophic in nature."

He tapped the tops of the files. "I know well of your background, Mr Wisdom. When we began our information exchange in early 2004, some of your former associates briefed me on your history. If this disaster is to be averted, it will require the intervention of someone who can make a rapid decision and strike out quickly, lethally and anonymously. Once you see where Xorn is right now,
you'll understand why even Charles' X-Men lack the ability to act."

Pete picked up the top file, and began to skim the contents. "OK, so my first guess was right. Yeah, this is my line of work. Save me the time reading through all this right this second, though, and answer me a couple of questions: if we get can him out, what happens to the poor bastard then? Secondly, any guesses as to the risk to anyone who was in the club that night, assuming we don't? I'm going to need to work out what to tell the baying mob out there..."

"Both good questions. Those who bear the mark? Likely nothing. We are an imprint memory at best. When his power manifested, our minds were the first things he felt. So one his most deeply buried instinctive reactions to his possible extinct came about, they expressed themselves to us, rather like a hurt child running home to mother." Essex tapped his chin with his index finger. "If we can reduce his input somewhat, it should clear much of the scatteredness that keeps him paralyzed from
action. I really don't know what may come of that. We are dealing with a fundamentally alien creature, Mr Wisdom. His window on humanity is much as we imagine a god's to be, and he could be wroth like they."

"So: we go in, we get him, we try and sort his brain out, and if he turns out to be pissed off, we hope whatever he does is less dire than simply killing him would be?" Pete looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. "Why bring this to me? You've got family-size connections of your own, or you did, the that last I heard. Yeah, Charlie's people can't do this, but surely you could have found someone else to do this job?"

"Several reasons. First and foremost the fact that you have the capacity to make this sort of decision and act on it rapidly. Any contacts of mine would require more details and proof before committing to such action." Essex leaned back in his chair, steepling his long fingers together. "Rescuing Xorn isn't as easy as simply pulling him out of that installation. As I said before, a fundamentally alien mind. We need to be able to communicate with him to have any hope of resolving this situation, and you possess unique resources that no one else does; namely young Mister Ramsey. My hope is that his powers can serve as a filter in a direct telepathic connection to Xorn; at least allow us long enough to be heard over the thoughts of literally everyone else."

Essex pointed to the bottom file. "I have a rough list of requirements that I feel the contact will require. Mainly telepaths, to work in a gestalt; many minds broadcasting as a single voice, on many wavelengths. It is complex. Finally, you need someone that can actually speak to an alien mind." Essex added to his list of seemingly impossible demands.

Pete snorted in amusement. "You know, a month or so back, I told someone I'd almost rather do six months in a Chinese prison than work at Charlie's again. I didn't expect to find myself faced with the prospect quite so soon."

He paused for a second.

"OK. Is there anything else I'm going to need or want to know, before I go and tell these people that they're about to risk their liberty on your say so?"

"There is also the possibility that I am wrong, and extraditing Xorn could cause him to meltdown in any case, killing them all." Essex gave Wisdom a wintery smile. "You can leave that fact in or out at your discretion, of course."