Operation: We'll Always Have Paris - Log 5
Jan. 5th, 2025 08:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsThe rumours turn out to be true as the man planning to plunder the club reveals himself.
The hum and din of the Paris Hellfire Club was reminiscent of a political convention held in an opulent manse. In drawing rooms and salons decked with fine art, antiques from around the world and the most luxurious trappings imaginable, groups of Gold and Silver Court notables discussed, argued, shouted and even threatened, each pushing their own candidates or selling their personal influence to the camp willing to pay the most. Several rounds of voting had already passed, and mercifully, the nominees for both courts were down to two for both the new king and queen. There was a pause before the final round of voting; a limited social demilitarized zone in which to refresh their drinks and take a breath before the final push for their new leadership.
The burst of gunfire shattered the momentary calm, eliciting a few shocked screams as the armed men appeared. They were anonymous in their matching tactical gear, faces obscured behind the tinted visors of their combat helmets and mandibles. They matched in from the rear hallways, hustling the waiting and kitchen staff along ahead of them, as well as a few couples in various states of undress from taking advantage of an empty room. Others fanned out near the doors and those who were close enough could hear the whirring of the electronic locks, sealing them tightly. Other than a few blows landing on people moving too slowly, there was no violence, but the threat remained menacingly close.
Finally, from the upper floor, a young man made his way down the stairs. Trevor Fitzroy was a striking figure; his bright viridian hair and goatee drew the attention immediately. He'd been around early and his name had been put forward as a candidate for the Gold King, although he'd been swept off in the first round. After all, despite his family's wealth and lineage in the club, their lack of magical expertise had always locked them from the highest levels of the court. Even Trevor's apparent talent in magic was tempered by his youth from advancing further for now.
"Yes, yes. It's the big reveal." He said as he reached the marble floors of the lobby. "Let's clear some things up right away before anyone has a chance to make any poor decisions. First, these are my men. They are professionals, extremely well trained and experienced. I've also provided a number of enchantments on them which make them extremely resistant to magical or psionic interference. If any of you get the bright idea to try, they have orders to execute you immediately. My people have also seized the security office and have locked down the building. That means the steel shutters have dropped on all the windows, the physical locks on all the exterior doors, and all the various emergency boltholes. We also have control of our very extensive camera network. So there is no way out of the building beyond my good graces."
He paused and took a seat on the steps; a casual bit of offense to his supposedly august fellow court members. "This really would have been so much easier if you'd just named me King, you know. Do you have any idea how much all of this cost to arrange?"
One member of the Silver Court was already red-faced and simmering, finally goaded by his tone to reaction.
"This is the Paris Hellfire Club! It is not a place for whelps barely old enough to shave to hold office! Or the weakest of mages!"
"M. Anouilh, I believe 28 is well past whelping." Trevor said mildly and made a slight gesture with his fingers. The mercenary closest to the man fired three rounds through the back of his head, all but decapitating him. His body dropped to the white marble, surrounded by a slowly growing scarlet pool. "Now, I suppose we can call that an example? I'm here to take what I want, not to negotiate. There are quite a lot of you stuffed into the ground floor but my people will be coming around. Not only will they relieve you of your most valuable artifacts and jewelry which you were very kind to wear to this event, but they will also have devices for you to log into your various banks, trusts and other financial holdings. Yes, I know, I know-" He said with a theatrical sigh. "I'll never truly get away - your money is safe behind precautions and safeguards and such but not only do I think I'll get away with quite a bit, because so many of you are that particularly sort of stupid unique to the rich, but I'm also capable of releasing all sorts of that information into the public for the Dark Web to feast on. Oh, and any resistance or even the appearance of you holding back something, my men will shoot you. They're very motivated since they'll be splitting half of whatever they get from you all."
He stood back up, dusting off the knees of his spotless and perfectly tailored suit. "Now, I do have some things to attend to." Two men walked past him with the London majordomo Rutledge suspended between them, the steel case holding the rings of office still handcuffed to his wrist. "My men should have seen to you all by the time I return. Oh, and one last thing." He snapped his fingers and several men wheeled a large crate into the middle of the room.
"Inside this crate is a rather powerful incendiary device. I have it on good authority that those it doesn't kill outright when it explodes will die shortly after when the torrent of flame eats up the rest of the oxygen in the building. I'm also told that the explosive charge is modified so that it won't create enough concussive force to destroy any of the doors or window guards, trapping everyone left alive in an inferno. Now, again, I know. There's always a bomb. And there's always ways to defuse them, right? We all watch television. But the reality is that the trigger for this is magical and it has a dummy trigger attached to my heartbeat. So just on the outside chance anything happens to me... fiery death for everyone else. You shouldn't worry too much. My latest physical said my heart was in perfect condition. So please, do yourselves a favour. Be compliant, lose some valuables in some money, and in a few hours, you can all be back home with the rest of your meaningless lives in front of you." He blew the crowd a kiss as he followed the men dragging Rutledge into the back of the estate.
~Magic is really an intensely irritating thing,~ Emma sent the message into the minds of all of her mutant allies. ~Though I will say that it’s perfectly possible to have a functioning heart and an entirely non-functioning brain. Let’s just say I’ve proved that scientifically. Now does everyone have targets in mind? I feel this is a divide and conquer situation. North, darling, are you happy to stay with me?~
The German responded by moving into place next to her, a hand resting casually in his pocket as he studied the crate with milky irises half-shielded by lowered eyelids. "Always happy to be in your care," he said, voice just audible over the cacophony of protest that had broken out even before Fitzroy had completed his grand exit.
~Honestly, is this entire smash and grab just an enormous temper tantrum because he wasn't selected as King? I'm taking bets - either daddy didn't love him enough or mommy did a bit too much and he never got over being told how special he was.~ Doug didn't actually believe that - if it were as simple as theft, then why had Fitzroy and his goons been so scrupulous about keeping the majordomo with them? But a bit of frustrated venting paradoxically helped him focus in on what needed to be done. ~Angie, shall we give them the one-two punch?~ His left hand, still carrying the appearance of flesh, flexed just a bit too far in anticipation - he really needed to break that particular nervous habit.
~Yes, something is strange about this man.~ Marie-Ange agreed, her mental voice sharp and tinged with radio static, as always. ~Shall we dispatch his stagecoach robbers? The more of them we can distract or dispose of, the more exits we can create. They always secure the windows and doors." She gave a mental image of a battering ram. "And never the walls. But the guards have to be managed first, yes?"
The mutants fanned out, moving on their particular missions, leaving Emma Frost and David North in the room they'd gathered. The camera had been disabled so it wouldn't be long before they sent people to check on it, giving them a few minutes grace to plan.
“Any clues to what might happen in the next minute or so?” Emma asked North, not entirely facetiously. “I’m picking up rather a number of goons, who seem to belong to the odious little man with the bomb control. I can track them for a short while, but I expect I’ll have to switch to diamond shortly, and then they’ll be better able to use the crowd for cover.”
The hum and din of the Paris Hellfire Club was reminiscent of a political convention held in an opulent manse. In drawing rooms and salons decked with fine art, antiques from around the world and the most luxurious trappings imaginable, groups of Gold and Silver Court notables discussed, argued, shouted and even threatened, each pushing their own candidates or selling their personal influence to the camp willing to pay the most. Several rounds of voting had already passed, and mercifully, the nominees for both courts were down to two for both the new king and queen. There was a pause before the final round of voting; a limited social demilitarized zone in which to refresh their drinks and take a breath before the final push for their new leadership.
The burst of gunfire shattered the momentary calm, eliciting a few shocked screams as the armed men appeared. They were anonymous in their matching tactical gear, faces obscured behind the tinted visors of their combat helmets and mandibles. They matched in from the rear hallways, hustling the waiting and kitchen staff along ahead of them, as well as a few couples in various states of undress from taking advantage of an empty room. Others fanned out near the doors and those who were close enough could hear the whirring of the electronic locks, sealing them tightly. Other than a few blows landing on people moving too slowly, there was no violence, but the threat remained menacingly close.
Finally, from the upper floor, a young man made his way down the stairs. Trevor Fitzroy was a striking figure; his bright viridian hair and goatee drew the attention immediately. He'd been around early and his name had been put forward as a candidate for the Gold King, although he'd been swept off in the first round. After all, despite his family's wealth and lineage in the club, their lack of magical expertise had always locked them from the highest levels of the court. Even Trevor's apparent talent in magic was tempered by his youth from advancing further for now.
"Yes, yes. It's the big reveal." He said as he reached the marble floors of the lobby. "Let's clear some things up right away before anyone has a chance to make any poor decisions. First, these are my men. They are professionals, extremely well trained and experienced. I've also provided a number of enchantments on them which make them extremely resistant to magical or psionic interference. If any of you get the bright idea to try, they have orders to execute you immediately. My people have also seized the security office and have locked down the building. That means the steel shutters have dropped on all the windows, the physical locks on all the exterior doors, and all the various emergency boltholes. We also have control of our very extensive camera network. So there is no way out of the building beyond my good graces."
He paused and took a seat on the steps; a casual bit of offense to his supposedly august fellow court members. "This really would have been so much easier if you'd just named me King, you know. Do you have any idea how much all of this cost to arrange?"
One member of the Silver Court was already red-faced and simmering, finally goaded by his tone to reaction.
"This is the Paris Hellfire Club! It is not a place for whelps barely old enough to shave to hold office! Or the weakest of mages!"
"M. Anouilh, I believe 28 is well past whelping." Trevor said mildly and made a slight gesture with his fingers. The mercenary closest to the man fired three rounds through the back of his head, all but decapitating him. His body dropped to the white marble, surrounded by a slowly growing scarlet pool. "Now, I suppose we can call that an example? I'm here to take what I want, not to negotiate. There are quite a lot of you stuffed into the ground floor but my people will be coming around. Not only will they relieve you of your most valuable artifacts and jewelry which you were very kind to wear to this event, but they will also have devices for you to log into your various banks, trusts and other financial holdings. Yes, I know, I know-" He said with a theatrical sigh. "I'll never truly get away - your money is safe behind precautions and safeguards and such but not only do I think I'll get away with quite a bit, because so many of you are that particularly sort of stupid unique to the rich, but I'm also capable of releasing all sorts of that information into the public for the Dark Web to feast on. Oh, and any resistance or even the appearance of you holding back something, my men will shoot you. They're very motivated since they'll be splitting half of whatever they get from you all."
He stood back up, dusting off the knees of his spotless and perfectly tailored suit. "Now, I do have some things to attend to." Two men walked past him with the London majordomo Rutledge suspended between them, the steel case holding the rings of office still handcuffed to his wrist. "My men should have seen to you all by the time I return. Oh, and one last thing." He snapped his fingers and several men wheeled a large crate into the middle of the room.
"Inside this crate is a rather powerful incendiary device. I have it on good authority that those it doesn't kill outright when it explodes will die shortly after when the torrent of flame eats up the rest of the oxygen in the building. I'm also told that the explosive charge is modified so that it won't create enough concussive force to destroy any of the doors or window guards, trapping everyone left alive in an inferno. Now, again, I know. There's always a bomb. And there's always ways to defuse them, right? We all watch television. But the reality is that the trigger for this is magical and it has a dummy trigger attached to my heartbeat. So just on the outside chance anything happens to me... fiery death for everyone else. You shouldn't worry too much. My latest physical said my heart was in perfect condition. So please, do yourselves a favour. Be compliant, lose some valuables in some money, and in a few hours, you can all be back home with the rest of your meaningless lives in front of you." He blew the crowd a kiss as he followed the men dragging Rutledge into the back of the estate.
~Magic is really an intensely irritating thing,~ Emma sent the message into the minds of all of her mutant allies. ~Though I will say that it’s perfectly possible to have a functioning heart and an entirely non-functioning brain. Let’s just say I’ve proved that scientifically. Now does everyone have targets in mind? I feel this is a divide and conquer situation. North, darling, are you happy to stay with me?~
The German responded by moving into place next to her, a hand resting casually in his pocket as he studied the crate with milky irises half-shielded by lowered eyelids. "Always happy to be in your care," he said, voice just audible over the cacophony of protest that had broken out even before Fitzroy had completed his grand exit.
~Honestly, is this entire smash and grab just an enormous temper tantrum because he wasn't selected as King? I'm taking bets - either daddy didn't love him enough or mommy did a bit too much and he never got over being told how special he was.~ Doug didn't actually believe that - if it were as simple as theft, then why had Fitzroy and his goons been so scrupulous about keeping the majordomo with them? But a bit of frustrated venting paradoxically helped him focus in on what needed to be done. ~Angie, shall we give them the one-two punch?~ His left hand, still carrying the appearance of flesh, flexed just a bit too far in anticipation - he really needed to break that particular nervous habit.
~Yes, something is strange about this man.~ Marie-Ange agreed, her mental voice sharp and tinged with radio static, as always. ~Shall we dispatch his stagecoach robbers? The more of them we can distract or dispose of, the more exits we can create. They always secure the windows and doors." She gave a mental image of a battering ram. "And never the walls. But the guards have to be managed first, yes?"
The mutants fanned out, moving on their particular missions, leaving Emma Frost and David North in the room they'd gathered. The camera had been disabled so it wouldn't be long before they sent people to check on it, giving them a few minutes grace to plan.
“Any clues to what might happen in the next minute or so?” Emma asked North, not entirely facetiously. “I’m picking up rather a number of goons, who seem to belong to the odious little man with the bomb control. I can track them for a short while, but I expect I’ll have to switch to diamond shortly, and then they’ll be better able to use the crowd for cover.”
