![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_changeling posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsThe Hellfire Gala begins as the Black Court preens in the splendor of the night and introduce an old 'friend'.
The Hellfire Gala hosted by the Black Court was one of the hottest tickets in New York. Dominated by elite hedge fund managers and executives who made up their powerbase, it was sprinkled with enough celebrities and socialites to cluster a mass of paparazzi ten deep by the doors. The event was in the honour of the late Ned Buckman, the billionaire former Black King of the Hellfire club during the 80s and 90s before retiring and passing the title to Sebastian Shaw. He died quietly several months prior and with his death, his extensive collection of art, including paintings, sculptures and rare books was to be transferred from the vaults of the court to a number of galleries and universities as directed by his will.
Before dispersing the collection, Shaw had announced that they’d showcase it as part of a club gala, which had been eagerly hyped by the media. The club was notoriously private and famously litigious in terms of coverage, so rarely were press allowed to even glimpse the opulence of the club, much less report on it.
The gala was held in the Gabrielle William building adjacent to the main club building. It had been a jazz club back in the forties but had grown seedier and seedier over the years, eventually being abandoned to rats and squatters until it was purchased by the Club in the 80s. Buckman had it bought to add to the security of the Club’s main headquarters, but it was Emma and Sebastian who had had it converted back to a party hall when they’d taken over.
The two story building was large, connected to the main building, but only opened for events which were beyond the capacity of their normal grounds or those with semi-public access in order to avoid compromising their security with non-club attendees. As part of the renovations, Emma had borrowed the knowledge of a number of theatre entrepreneurs and had a series of sliding hydraulic walls and rounds installed, allowing the room to be reconfigured simply and easily with the flick of a switch. For the gala, it had been broken into three large galleries - a main one which held most of the items in glass cases arrayed through the room, a smaller one to properly display the sculptures, and a smaller more secure gallery for the most valuable pieces with restricted access.
Shaw stood in the main gallery, looking over the glittering elite he’d assembled, enjoying the social capital he’d earned from this gesture. As a way to rub it in the White Court’s face, he’d even sent the coveted invitations to Xavier and his miserable brood, seeing them turn up like yokels from the country in the midst of New York’s social elite. He smiled at the thought of envy eating Frost up behind her beautiful facade.
“I think you've outdone yourself, Sebastian.” Nick Harkness smoothed down the front of his expensive suit. “A truly impressive event.”
“You presume too much, Harkness. You are, at best, a specialist on a contract to me. Try that kind of familiarity with me again and you will be clearly and forcefully reminded of your position.” He replied coldly and Harkness gulped and nearly took a step back from the cold venom in Shaw’s voice. Shaw could see the greed and hunger for power in the younger man’s eyes, the idea that his services might turn into a place in the club or even a position of worth in his court. It was important to remind lessers of their place and that for all Shaw could give them if he chose, he could also destroy them just as easily.
He turned back as the White Queen and her Court came to officially be welcomed to the gala. No matter how bitter their rivalry could be, court decorum came first. He gave her an expansive smile.
“Our dearest White Queen. I am so happy you could join us tonight.”
“Black King,” said Emma, inclining her head slightly, her smile warm. “I’m so pleased that you took the opportunity to organise the Gala. It’s so kind of you to show off my dazzling taste in interior design to the glitterati.” Her nose wrinkled up for a moment in something between delight and disdain. “And the, well… those who can but aspire to be truly glitterati.” For just a moment, her skin shone diamond beneath the lights.
"Alas, but I felt it was only right to offer your.... friends at Xavier's an invite, even if they certainly don't fit with the quality of the other guests." Shaw said smoothly, reversing her insult. This was the oldest dance between them, starting back when they'd both been climbing the rungs of power in the club in their youth. "But it will be a fine night, regardless. I must say, old Ned would have certainly enjoyed this. He loved to lord his taste in art over the other financial titans, who tried to buy taste and respectability." That was one element of truth; Buckman had exceptional taste and had collected numerous artists right before they exploded in popularity. Dr. Alicia Masters, an ESU art history professor, was one of the foremost experts on the sculpture collection and it was a coup to have her to speak later.
"You know the rest, but allow me to introduce you to Nicholas Harkness. He's a specialist consulting on the rare folios we're showing."
"Your grace," He said, bowing over Emma's hand, and it didn't take telepathy to see what was currently running through his mind.
"Mr Harkness," replied Emma, coolly. She shifted her shoulders slightly, let her decolletage flex at exactly Harkness' eyeline as he looked up at her. "So you have a taste for rarity, do you?" Her smile was almostly predatory. "Don't we all want what we can't have?" she purred.
"I hope that's why I'm here." He collected himself, tearing his eyes away from her. "To keep those interested in taking what they want from the Black Court. You see, one of those folios is not just a rare book. It is... power, itself." It was a touch theatrical, but not an untrue statement.
"Yes, according to Mister Harkness, one of the pieces has some sort of magical significance. I seem to recall your associates having some interest in those... arts." Shaw didn't particularly respect magic. Mutant power and money were what he relied on, but he knew it had value and that it was a key tool for her people. In fact, it was why he'd retained Harkness. He didn't much care about the book, but losing face to the White Court if they were able to steal or replace it was unthinkable. His eyes drifted to the room for a moment and caught sight of the witch that Emma had made a pet, chatting with a dark haired friend he knew was also an associate. "In any case, it is merely a bit of extra security in dear old Ned's memory, to make sure his final wishes are carried out."
This was one of the first Hellfire events since Doug had managed to throw off the blood curse wasting him away, with the help of the nanites in his bloodstream. Thankfully, the nanites had also taken it upon themselves to rebuild the arm that had burned away in the process. At least the 'prosthetic' was solid enough to fill out a sleeve of his jacket, and a bit of asymmetry helped draw the eye away from it just in case. Pristine white gloves completed the matador-esque look, and he brushed a piece of lint away with his left hand, doing his best to mirror Emma's cool tone and disdain while watching her back. "How very gracious of you," he murmured. Some days Shaw's blatant posturing and digs at other people really was too much.
"Ah, Douglas, I'd forgotten you were there for a moment." Shaw said, his mouth quirked in amusement. "It is interesting that of those interested parties, young Harkness here identified two personal guests of the White Court as being... magically inclined. Who were they, again?"
"Amanda Sefton and Wanda Maximoff. They are notorious in the community for... taking things that do not belong to them."
"Yes, them. I'm sure it is just a coincidence that the White Court invited them specifically as guests. I'm surprised you haven't presented them with your court."
Emma smiled warmly, her voice conspiratorial. "It may astonish you, Sebastian, but some of us do have personal friends." She raised an eyebrow at Harkness. "And while their taste tends towards the Vivienne Westwood rather than the Christian Dior, one wouldn’t want to think the Hellfire Club is getting… fusty." She made a small gesture towards where Amanda and Wanda were circulating among the Gala attendees, and Emma’s tone was suddenly serious. “You can call them my bodyguards, Black King. If you’re going to have objects of magical power in the Club when my full Court is here, then I’m going to have people who can manage any unexpected… incidents.” She inclined her head slightly, a courteous gesture to an equal. “I trust magic no more than you.” Then her lips curled up again in a small smile. “And neither of them can resist an open bar.”
Jubilee and North move to deal with the security cameras.
Jan Amos Comenius’ ‘Janua Linguarum Reserata’ was held in the third smallest gallery in the building. Unlike the others, this wasn’t temporary sectioning off of the space but instead was a permanent gallery with enhanced security. The way it was set up, even with the gala crowds, it still had full coverage of every approach with its security cameras as the first line of defense.
Jubilee dropped her cart outside one of the guest rooms and smoothed out the French Maid outfit she’d been wearing for the past two weeks.
She’d managed to get hired on as a general cleaner and gotten a good lay of the land, so to speak.
Honestly, if she wanted to blackmail some senators later she’d have had more than ample opportunity.
It was with just enough noise to be believable as a regular person, she opened the door.
“Maid.” She called out, before noting the room was empty.
She dropped the act as she pulled the cart in and quickly pulled her go bag with the harness inside out from within the cart, moving to secure it properly as she waited for North. She didn't have to wait long before her colleague slipped in, quietly locking the door behind him before pulling a thick cable from his janitorial cart and wordlessly offering one of the ends of it to her to clip on.
The other end was threaded into a metal eye on the subtly modified cart, which North swiftly anchored against the wall coiling the cable around his waist once and clipping it onto the belaying harness he had on beneath his baggy uniform.
"Try not to take longer than you have to," he said when the simple setup was ready. "No visions today."
“What, did you piss off the Barista again or something? You know she only gives you decaf when you fuck up.”
Jubilee crouched and stretched, making sure the harness felt right before she slid into the laundry chute. For anyone else, it might have been a tight squeeze but for her, it was a simple exercise. She thanked whatever entity had given her the ability to contort her shape even beyond the regular training she did.
“Can you still hear me?”
She’d put on a throat mic as well as the slim-line pack that held the Wallmart drone copters they’d bought for this mission
"I can," he confirmed, gloved hands loosening around the cable as he let the length it slip past. His lips tightened in annoyance when he realised he would need to rely on her verbal cues. "Let me know when."
The lucky thing about their uniforms was that they included long gloves for a reason she hadn’t wanted to question, only grateful for. It meant that she could feel her way down without having to use any kind of light. It didn’t take long for the hands she held out in front of her to meet no resistance.
“I’m in the cross tunnel, slow me down. Any movement yet?”
There’d only been so much reconnaissance they’d been able to do for this job that wouldn’t have gotten them caught or compromised Emma’s position, wandering around in the vents had been one of those ‘try to memorize the building plans’ kinda things.
If she did it right, she’d only have to travel a short way to ‘release the hounds’ so to speak.
"Nothing yet," North responded, having plucked a phablet from his pocket and was now swiping through it with a hand that really should be steadying the cable. "Oh, wait. Incoming laundry."
"So like, you know how when you're a little kid, they get you to meet with an adult who like talks to you about what you want to be when you grow up?" Jubilee returned as she quickly pulled herself into the cross tunnel before turning to watch the laundry float past her. "I'm not sure 'Able to squeeze into vents and avoid laundry was on the questionnaire if you know what I mean. Like, don't quote me or anything but I'm pretty sure 'Murder people horribly and stuff them into barrels' wasn't either."
Jubilee kept crawling along the cross tunnel until she reached another drop-off and then launched herself back into the darkness. It wasn't long now, just another few feet to the vent she wanted, and then she'd be able to unpack her drones.
"Like, I'm just saying, I don't think career counselors are truly trained in all the possible careers a teenager might find themselves in. Like, where was the 'Master Thief' pamphlet? I'm pretty sure the Hellfire club doesn't have a proper social media presence is all either and this is like, the twenty-first century. You'd think secret societies would be all about online recruiting. Although, maybe the white court, I suppose we'd have to ask Emma? I'm almost there, by the by. Just another few feet to the bottom, I think."
North hmm-ed in acknowledgment, cable still speedily slipping through his fingers as he kept an eye on the video feed. He tapped his foot against the carpeted floor, counting the beats and eyeballing the length left on the black cable, his ability to multi-task now resulting in an idle mind with his powers switch still firmly in the 'off' position.
"They called it military recruitment for a spell," he reminded her dryly, not having to elaborate on who 'they' were. "LinkedIn is too mainstream. Maybe try the dark web."
“Dude, the Dark Web is just eBay for edge-lords.”
Jubilee reached the spot she’d been looking for and took up a perch as she pulled the slimline backpack from her back and started constructing the small Walmart bought Drones she’d brought with her.
They were nothing special to look at, and anyone checking the technology wouldn’t find any trace of any of them. Frankly, the simplicity of the solution has the benefit of being completely insulting to any security expert they might be employing. This was why Jubilee was particularly gleeful as they rose into the air and flew from the opening of the vent she currently straddled.
“Like, would you trust anyone you could hire over the Dark Web?”
"Done it before," her companion replied casually, watching the path of the drones with interest. "It has its uses."
"I like to know who I'm giving my contract-killing jobs to a little better these days."
Jubilee followed the path of her drones on the little camera pad provided as her thumbs on the two joysticks directed them to where they needed to go. They really only needed to be big and strong enough to nudge the cameras out of the way, so Wall-mart specials with a small enough control pad to fit in her backpack was just low-tech enough that if they were intercepted, people wouldn't be able to track it back to them specifically.
"Like, not that I'm hating or anything on your choices, but I literally had a Demon summoned on my ass cause I didn't do better background checks on known associates before getting involved. I am like, totally gunshy about that shit."
The small drone copter bumped against the first of the cameras, and Jubilee tapped it slightly to get it to move just enough so that moving the others would create a blindspot but not so much that the change would be noticeable before someone was specifically looking at the footage closely.
"You will know better if there is a next time," North replied, tying down the cable for a spell so that he could use both hands to scroll through the feed and admire her handiwork. "Camera 1 is in place. How loud are your little toys?"
“Like, weirdly quiet for something I bought at Walmart. I totally did research and there’s this whole thing because people wanted to fly stuff at night and neighbours would complain. So, whisper quiet or as close as they could get something with blades.”
Jubilee directed her drone to push the second camera out of place with several careful taps.
“That should do it, eyeball the space for me? Do we need to take out the third camera too?”
"No, that is a big enough space to get through," North confirmed, sliding the device back into the large pockets of his janitorial uniform. "Time to put away your toys."
"Ahead of you, dude," Jubilee murmured, flying her drones back to where she was crouching as she kept a weather eye on the surroundings. It wouldn't do to complete the mission only to be caught at the end. "Heading back up now."
With the cameras neutralized, a safe approach was available to the team. They hit the little comm, clicking that their job was done and it was safe to move to the next step. The next team was already in place, looking at their target, or targets.
Darcy and Clea find a way to clear out the guards.
There were two guards out front of the entrance to the gallery. The Hellfire Club guards were well trained and well paid professionals, contracted from a neutral third party security company in order to avoid any ability of either court to sway them to their side.
Darcy glanced at the guards through her compact mirror, pretending to check her hair as she took in their locations and stance before snapping it shut. Her heels clicked as she moved down the hall, and once she was at the next hallway she slipped them off, stashing them in a janitorial closet. She made her way back to Clea silently, voice almost inaudible as she asked "Ready to rock?"
Clea nodded and with a few complex movements, a purple hue formed before it settled over both women, transforming their appearance. "This will work." Clea whispered, her voice even sounded like a man's.
"Awesome, let's do this." Darcy straightened her shoulders, striding around the corner to the door guards. "Boss authorized a mid-shift break. You've got seven minutes," she said once they were in range. "Get moving." She raised an eyebrow when one of the guards tried to argue. "You can do what the boss says or you can be detained as a risk. Timer's running, move it."
The two guards who still didn't move as the He-Clea looked down at their watch, "Six Minutes now." The guards looked at each other and one pulled out a pack of cigarettes as he walked away towards one of the exits for a smoke break. The other one turned to follow. He-Clea watched until the door closed and with a subtle movement of her hands, the door looked silently behind them. Looking at Darcy and nodded.
"Hopefully that will give them enough time to get in and get us swapped out," Darcy murmured, copying the posture of the guards as they settled into place.
"It will be plenty of time." She settled into the other place and touched the comm in her ear to alert the others that the hall was secure. "We will be gone before they know it." Looking over at Darcy with a small smirk.
With the guards out of the way, they had a clear shot to the door. Again, another quiet click on the comms and the new pair came into view.
The Hellfire Gala hosted by the Black Court was one of the hottest tickets in New York. Dominated by elite hedge fund managers and executives who made up their powerbase, it was sprinkled with enough celebrities and socialites to cluster a mass of paparazzi ten deep by the doors. The event was in the honour of the late Ned Buckman, the billionaire former Black King of the Hellfire club during the 80s and 90s before retiring and passing the title to Sebastian Shaw. He died quietly several months prior and with his death, his extensive collection of art, including paintings, sculptures and rare books was to be transferred from the vaults of the court to a number of galleries and universities as directed by his will.
Before dispersing the collection, Shaw had announced that they’d showcase it as part of a club gala, which had been eagerly hyped by the media. The club was notoriously private and famously litigious in terms of coverage, so rarely were press allowed to even glimpse the opulence of the club, much less report on it.
The gala was held in the Gabrielle William building adjacent to the main club building. It had been a jazz club back in the forties but had grown seedier and seedier over the years, eventually being abandoned to rats and squatters until it was purchased by the Club in the 80s. Buckman had it bought to add to the security of the Club’s main headquarters, but it was Emma and Sebastian who had had it converted back to a party hall when they’d taken over.
The two story building was large, connected to the main building, but only opened for events which were beyond the capacity of their normal grounds or those with semi-public access in order to avoid compromising their security with non-club attendees. As part of the renovations, Emma had borrowed the knowledge of a number of theatre entrepreneurs and had a series of sliding hydraulic walls and rounds installed, allowing the room to be reconfigured simply and easily with the flick of a switch. For the gala, it had been broken into three large galleries - a main one which held most of the items in glass cases arrayed through the room, a smaller one to properly display the sculptures, and a smaller more secure gallery for the most valuable pieces with restricted access.
Shaw stood in the main gallery, looking over the glittering elite he’d assembled, enjoying the social capital he’d earned from this gesture. As a way to rub it in the White Court’s face, he’d even sent the coveted invitations to Xavier and his miserable brood, seeing them turn up like yokels from the country in the midst of New York’s social elite. He smiled at the thought of envy eating Frost up behind her beautiful facade.
“I think you've outdone yourself, Sebastian.” Nick Harkness smoothed down the front of his expensive suit. “A truly impressive event.”
“You presume too much, Harkness. You are, at best, a specialist on a contract to me. Try that kind of familiarity with me again and you will be clearly and forcefully reminded of your position.” He replied coldly and Harkness gulped and nearly took a step back from the cold venom in Shaw’s voice. Shaw could see the greed and hunger for power in the younger man’s eyes, the idea that his services might turn into a place in the club or even a position of worth in his court. It was important to remind lessers of their place and that for all Shaw could give them if he chose, he could also destroy them just as easily.
He turned back as the White Queen and her Court came to officially be welcomed to the gala. No matter how bitter their rivalry could be, court decorum came first. He gave her an expansive smile.
“Our dearest White Queen. I am so happy you could join us tonight.”
“Black King,” said Emma, inclining her head slightly, her smile warm. “I’m so pleased that you took the opportunity to organise the Gala. It’s so kind of you to show off my dazzling taste in interior design to the glitterati.” Her nose wrinkled up for a moment in something between delight and disdain. “And the, well… those who can but aspire to be truly glitterati.” For just a moment, her skin shone diamond beneath the lights.
"Alas, but I felt it was only right to offer your.... friends at Xavier's an invite, even if they certainly don't fit with the quality of the other guests." Shaw said smoothly, reversing her insult. This was the oldest dance between them, starting back when they'd both been climbing the rungs of power in the club in their youth. "But it will be a fine night, regardless. I must say, old Ned would have certainly enjoyed this. He loved to lord his taste in art over the other financial titans, who tried to buy taste and respectability." That was one element of truth; Buckman had exceptional taste and had collected numerous artists right before they exploded in popularity. Dr. Alicia Masters, an ESU art history professor, was one of the foremost experts on the sculpture collection and it was a coup to have her to speak later.
"You know the rest, but allow me to introduce you to Nicholas Harkness. He's a specialist consulting on the rare folios we're showing."
"Your grace," He said, bowing over Emma's hand, and it didn't take telepathy to see what was currently running through his mind.
"Mr Harkness," replied Emma, coolly. She shifted her shoulders slightly, let her decolletage flex at exactly Harkness' eyeline as he looked up at her. "So you have a taste for rarity, do you?" Her smile was almostly predatory. "Don't we all want what we can't have?" she purred.
"I hope that's why I'm here." He collected himself, tearing his eyes away from her. "To keep those interested in taking what they want from the Black Court. You see, one of those folios is not just a rare book. It is... power, itself." It was a touch theatrical, but not an untrue statement.
"Yes, according to Mister Harkness, one of the pieces has some sort of magical significance. I seem to recall your associates having some interest in those... arts." Shaw didn't particularly respect magic. Mutant power and money were what he relied on, but he knew it had value and that it was a key tool for her people. In fact, it was why he'd retained Harkness. He didn't much care about the book, but losing face to the White Court if they were able to steal or replace it was unthinkable. His eyes drifted to the room for a moment and caught sight of the witch that Emma had made a pet, chatting with a dark haired friend he knew was also an associate. "In any case, it is merely a bit of extra security in dear old Ned's memory, to make sure his final wishes are carried out."
This was one of the first Hellfire events since Doug had managed to throw off the blood curse wasting him away, with the help of the nanites in his bloodstream. Thankfully, the nanites had also taken it upon themselves to rebuild the arm that had burned away in the process. At least the 'prosthetic' was solid enough to fill out a sleeve of his jacket, and a bit of asymmetry helped draw the eye away from it just in case. Pristine white gloves completed the matador-esque look, and he brushed a piece of lint away with his left hand, doing his best to mirror Emma's cool tone and disdain while watching her back. "How very gracious of you," he murmured. Some days Shaw's blatant posturing and digs at other people really was too much.
"Ah, Douglas, I'd forgotten you were there for a moment." Shaw said, his mouth quirked in amusement. "It is interesting that of those interested parties, young Harkness here identified two personal guests of the White Court as being... magically inclined. Who were they, again?"
"Amanda Sefton and Wanda Maximoff. They are notorious in the community for... taking things that do not belong to them."
"Yes, them. I'm sure it is just a coincidence that the White Court invited them specifically as guests. I'm surprised you haven't presented them with your court."
Emma smiled warmly, her voice conspiratorial. "It may astonish you, Sebastian, but some of us do have personal friends." She raised an eyebrow at Harkness. "And while their taste tends towards the Vivienne Westwood rather than the Christian Dior, one wouldn’t want to think the Hellfire Club is getting… fusty." She made a small gesture towards where Amanda and Wanda were circulating among the Gala attendees, and Emma’s tone was suddenly serious. “You can call them my bodyguards, Black King. If you’re going to have objects of magical power in the Club when my full Court is here, then I’m going to have people who can manage any unexpected… incidents.” She inclined her head slightly, a courteous gesture to an equal. “I trust magic no more than you.” Then her lips curled up again in a small smile. “And neither of them can resist an open bar.”
Jubilee and North move to deal with the security cameras.
Jan Amos Comenius’ ‘Janua Linguarum Reserata’ was held in the third smallest gallery in the building. Unlike the others, this wasn’t temporary sectioning off of the space but instead was a permanent gallery with enhanced security. The way it was set up, even with the gala crowds, it still had full coverage of every approach with its security cameras as the first line of defense.
Jubilee dropped her cart outside one of the guest rooms and smoothed out the French Maid outfit she’d been wearing for the past two weeks.
She’d managed to get hired on as a general cleaner and gotten a good lay of the land, so to speak.
Honestly, if she wanted to blackmail some senators later she’d have had more than ample opportunity.
It was with just enough noise to be believable as a regular person, she opened the door.
“Maid.” She called out, before noting the room was empty.
She dropped the act as she pulled the cart in and quickly pulled her go bag with the harness inside out from within the cart, moving to secure it properly as she waited for North. She didn't have to wait long before her colleague slipped in, quietly locking the door behind him before pulling a thick cable from his janitorial cart and wordlessly offering one of the ends of it to her to clip on.
The other end was threaded into a metal eye on the subtly modified cart, which North swiftly anchored against the wall coiling the cable around his waist once and clipping it onto the belaying harness he had on beneath his baggy uniform.
"Try not to take longer than you have to," he said when the simple setup was ready. "No visions today."
“What, did you piss off the Barista again or something? You know she only gives you decaf when you fuck up.”
Jubilee crouched and stretched, making sure the harness felt right before she slid into the laundry chute. For anyone else, it might have been a tight squeeze but for her, it was a simple exercise. She thanked whatever entity had given her the ability to contort her shape even beyond the regular training she did.
“Can you still hear me?”
She’d put on a throat mic as well as the slim-line pack that held the Wallmart drone copters they’d bought for this mission
"I can," he confirmed, gloved hands loosening around the cable as he let the length it slip past. His lips tightened in annoyance when he realised he would need to rely on her verbal cues. "Let me know when."
The lucky thing about their uniforms was that they included long gloves for a reason she hadn’t wanted to question, only grateful for. It meant that she could feel her way down without having to use any kind of light. It didn’t take long for the hands she held out in front of her to meet no resistance.
“I’m in the cross tunnel, slow me down. Any movement yet?”
There’d only been so much reconnaissance they’d been able to do for this job that wouldn’t have gotten them caught or compromised Emma’s position, wandering around in the vents had been one of those ‘try to memorize the building plans’ kinda things.
If she did it right, she’d only have to travel a short way to ‘release the hounds’ so to speak.
"Nothing yet," North responded, having plucked a phablet from his pocket and was now swiping through it with a hand that really should be steadying the cable. "Oh, wait. Incoming laundry."
"So like, you know how when you're a little kid, they get you to meet with an adult who like talks to you about what you want to be when you grow up?" Jubilee returned as she quickly pulled herself into the cross tunnel before turning to watch the laundry float past her. "I'm not sure 'Able to squeeze into vents and avoid laundry was on the questionnaire if you know what I mean. Like, don't quote me or anything but I'm pretty sure 'Murder people horribly and stuff them into barrels' wasn't either."
Jubilee kept crawling along the cross tunnel until she reached another drop-off and then launched herself back into the darkness. It wasn't long now, just another few feet to the vent she wanted, and then she'd be able to unpack her drones.
"Like, I'm just saying, I don't think career counselors are truly trained in all the possible careers a teenager might find themselves in. Like, where was the 'Master Thief' pamphlet? I'm pretty sure the Hellfire club doesn't have a proper social media presence is all either and this is like, the twenty-first century. You'd think secret societies would be all about online recruiting. Although, maybe the white court, I suppose we'd have to ask Emma? I'm almost there, by the by. Just another few feet to the bottom, I think."
North hmm-ed in acknowledgment, cable still speedily slipping through his fingers as he kept an eye on the video feed. He tapped his foot against the carpeted floor, counting the beats and eyeballing the length left on the black cable, his ability to multi-task now resulting in an idle mind with his powers switch still firmly in the 'off' position.
"They called it military recruitment for a spell," he reminded her dryly, not having to elaborate on who 'they' were. "LinkedIn is too mainstream. Maybe try the dark web."
“Dude, the Dark Web is just eBay for edge-lords.”
Jubilee reached the spot she’d been looking for and took up a perch as she pulled the slimline backpack from her back and started constructing the small Walmart bought Drones she’d brought with her.
They were nothing special to look at, and anyone checking the technology wouldn’t find any trace of any of them. Frankly, the simplicity of the solution has the benefit of being completely insulting to any security expert they might be employing. This was why Jubilee was particularly gleeful as they rose into the air and flew from the opening of the vent she currently straddled.
“Like, would you trust anyone you could hire over the Dark Web?”
"Done it before," her companion replied casually, watching the path of the drones with interest. "It has its uses."
"I like to know who I'm giving my contract-killing jobs to a little better these days."
Jubilee followed the path of her drones on the little camera pad provided as her thumbs on the two joysticks directed them to where they needed to go. They really only needed to be big and strong enough to nudge the cameras out of the way, so Wall-mart specials with a small enough control pad to fit in her backpack was just low-tech enough that if they were intercepted, people wouldn't be able to track it back to them specifically.
"Like, not that I'm hating or anything on your choices, but I literally had a Demon summoned on my ass cause I didn't do better background checks on known associates before getting involved. I am like, totally gunshy about that shit."
The small drone copter bumped against the first of the cameras, and Jubilee tapped it slightly to get it to move just enough so that moving the others would create a blindspot but not so much that the change would be noticeable before someone was specifically looking at the footage closely.
"You will know better if there is a next time," North replied, tying down the cable for a spell so that he could use both hands to scroll through the feed and admire her handiwork. "Camera 1 is in place. How loud are your little toys?"
“Like, weirdly quiet for something I bought at Walmart. I totally did research and there’s this whole thing because people wanted to fly stuff at night and neighbours would complain. So, whisper quiet or as close as they could get something with blades.”
Jubilee directed her drone to push the second camera out of place with several careful taps.
“That should do it, eyeball the space for me? Do we need to take out the third camera too?”
"No, that is a big enough space to get through," North confirmed, sliding the device back into the large pockets of his janitorial uniform. "Time to put away your toys."
"Ahead of you, dude," Jubilee murmured, flying her drones back to where she was crouching as she kept a weather eye on the surroundings. It wouldn't do to complete the mission only to be caught at the end. "Heading back up now."
With the cameras neutralized, a safe approach was available to the team. They hit the little comm, clicking that their job was done and it was safe to move to the next step. The next team was already in place, looking at their target, or targets.
Darcy and Clea find a way to clear out the guards.
There were two guards out front of the entrance to the gallery. The Hellfire Club guards were well trained and well paid professionals, contracted from a neutral third party security company in order to avoid any ability of either court to sway them to their side.
Darcy glanced at the guards through her compact mirror, pretending to check her hair as she took in their locations and stance before snapping it shut. Her heels clicked as she moved down the hall, and once she was at the next hallway she slipped them off, stashing them in a janitorial closet. She made her way back to Clea silently, voice almost inaudible as she asked "Ready to rock?"
Clea nodded and with a few complex movements, a purple hue formed before it settled over both women, transforming their appearance. "This will work." Clea whispered, her voice even sounded like a man's.
"Awesome, let's do this." Darcy straightened her shoulders, striding around the corner to the door guards. "Boss authorized a mid-shift break. You've got seven minutes," she said once they were in range. "Get moving." She raised an eyebrow when one of the guards tried to argue. "You can do what the boss says or you can be detained as a risk. Timer's running, move it."
The two guards who still didn't move as the He-Clea looked down at their watch, "Six Minutes now." The guards looked at each other and one pulled out a pack of cigarettes as he walked away towards one of the exits for a smoke break. The other one turned to follow. He-Clea watched until the door closed and with a subtle movement of her hands, the door looked silently behind them. Looking at Darcy and nodded.
"Hopefully that will give them enough time to get in and get us swapped out," Darcy murmured, copying the posture of the guards as they settled into place.
"It will be plenty of time." She settled into the other place and touched the comm in her ear to alert the others that the hall was secure. "We will be gone before they know it." Looking over at Darcy with a small smirk.
With the guards out of the way, they had a clear shot to the door. Again, another quiet click on the comms and the new pair came into view.
