Selene had no last name--being an immortal mutant sorceress made it easy to ignore details like that over time. It was simpler to identify her by her accomplishments. The priestess of a secret civilization. Goddess of a 2,000-year-old cult. Black Queen of the Hellfire Club. Mistress of the Basement of the Damned.

"You and your lust for dominion over the Earth!" she bickered as she paced around the room. "We could have destroyed our enemies if _you_ had not annexed this place to your region of hell!" Selene had joined the Hellfire Club to participate in their quest to rule the world, but she had grown impatient with their methods. So she formed an alliance with Blackheart, the son of one of a dozen or so demonic beings that visited the Earth claiming to be "The Devil." Together they planned to take control of the Hellfire Club and, from there, claim the souls of all mankind. Their plan stopped short when they ran up against the Fantastic Four in the elaborate catacombs beneath the Club's mansion.*

[* In the less-than-classic FANTASTIC FOUR 1999 annual.]

"Bah! Mortal though you are not, you moan in discontent like the rest of your flesh-coated race!" Blackheart stood quietly in the Basement of the Damned, his unholy red eyes searching for any avenues of escape. "It was hardly my duty to eliminate any mortals who dared to interfere with our goals--had you fulfilled your end those ridiculous 'superheroes' would never have--"

"Have what?" Selene demanded. "They weren't the ones who sealed this room off to all other dimensions!" That much was true--once it became clear that Blackheart could not be removed from his mystical beachhead, the Fantastic Four prevented any further advance with the help of their supernatural allies--Margali Szardos, the Mechamage, and Daimon Hellstrom. "They could never have succeeded had you not allowed Hellstrom to escape--"

"Which would never have transpired if _you_ had destroyed them much sooner!" Blackheart growled. He had been repeating this conversation with her for weeks, and was beginning to wonder if even a demon could be subjected to eternal torment. "We waste our energy with this prattle, my lady--no matter how greatly we wish to tear out one another's eyes, we still share a common purpose. When we are free, we must renew our alliance..."

Selene waved a dismissive hand at him. "Of course, my liege...you've only explained it to me a dozen times. I have many in the Hellfire Club who are...loyal to me. They will not rest until we are returned to Earth, where I will strip away the souls of our transgressors, and feed them to you like grapes..."

"Then heaven help the next band of superheroes who oppose us," the demon prince swore, "for no one save heaven could..."

Next Best Thing

by Jim Smith

Chapter Eleven! "The March of the Black Queen!"

***

"Mel...Melissa?" He had almost interrupted himself to call her "Songbird" instead, before he remembered they were supposed to be beginning an undercover mission. He frowned at himself in the hallway, waiting for a response from the cracked-open door. Why was he going out of his way to maintain a professional distance with her?

"It's okay, Warren, I'm decent."

He all but crept into the hotel room, like a teenager who'd never seen a real live girl's bedroom before. This had all been his idea, of course--reserving a couple of suites at one of Manhattan's finer hotels so that he and the Thunderbolts (he _was_ a Thunderbolt, he reminded himself) could investigate the Hellfire Club. But now he felt in over his head somehow, especially as he caught sight of Melissa in the dress they'd bought earlier in the week.

She looked up to him and twirled, letting the long red skirt flow around her. As she came to a stop she put her foot forward and gestured her hands in a "ta-da" expression. "It fits," she smiled.

"It sure does."

"I'll have to wear the cloak out in public to hide my sonic carapace," she noted, pointing to the equipment on the couch. "I thought you'd like to have a look before I'm all bundled up under that hood."

"You look great, Melissa," he smiled back. "Considering you'd never even heard of the Hellfire Club before they tried to kill you, you'll blend right in."

"You don't look so bad yourself, Blue Boy--considering you've got your wings strapped down under that suit. Isn't your skin a problem?"

He shrugged. "The Inner Circle is composed of mutants, and everyone else in the Club knows I'm Archangel anyway. Besides, we want them to notice we're at the party so they can lead us into their trap--the quicker they see me in the crowd, the sooner Hawkeye and the others can do their part.

Melissa ran a hand through her shock-white hair, letting the auburn bangs spill over her shoulders. "I guess I'll leave the hood down, then. Let me get my carapace on and I'll be set."

A long silence followed as Songbird attached the unwieldy gorget to her throat, interrupted only by the small grunts she made to calibrate the device. "I, ah, can't hide the wrist-mounted parts, so I'm not bringing them."

"Yeah, we, uh, don't want them to know we've got our gear."

"Right, so I won't be able to create my sonic wings..."

"Sure..."

"Warren?"

"Yeah?"

She stopped and looked into his eyes. "I know you can afford all of this, but you _lived_ in New York before you joined the T-bolts. Why didn't we just go to your place?"

She finally caught him. He stared back at her, watching her grow more curious as his answer was slower and slower to arrive. But what could he say--that he was avoiding Psylocke? He couldn't even admit it to himself. Was it even true? Betsy was the one who told him to stay out of her business, and that's what he was doing. It hurt just thinking about her, and it was so easy not to...

"Hey." She reached out and held his hand. "What's the matter?"

"I just...it's...Melissa, I--"

"C'mon, guys, shake a leg!" Songbird and Archangel turned to find Jolt bursting through the door. "There's 'fashionably late' and then there's not even showing up!"

"I...ah--you're right, Hallie..." Warren stammered. "The limo's waiting for us..."

Melissa was almost too busy trying to read his face to notice that she was still holding his hand. "Uh, yeah...I guess so. Don't wait up for us..."

In his human form, Charcoal was waiting in the hall as they left the room. "So what do you want us to do while you walk right into the Hellfire Club's trap?" he asked.

"Hawkeye can radio you for backup if we need it..." Archangel answered distantly.

"If?" Jolt challenged. "If your hunch is right and these guys sent the Clan D'dl'lh to attack us, the first thing they'll do is bring those demons back to finish the job! It took the whole team to beat them before, and now you're leaving me and Charlie on the bench!?"

The mutant rubbed his azure forehead. Even before he joined the team, Jolt had been feeling shut out from the Thunderbolts' bigger missions. She was only fifteen, but she'd been a Thunderbolt longer than Hawkeye or Archangel, and every once in a while she'd expect the privilege of that seniority. She was like Jubilee trying to be Cyclops. "Hallie, we went through this last night...we can't sneak two teenagers into the Festival of Sin..."

"Besides," Songbird added, "the last time we fought them was in that church*--we couldn't cut loose without wrecking the place, and it would have ruined our reputation."

[* Chapter 9.]

"That could happen here, too, Melissa," Archangel noted. "Everyone thinks the Inner Circle is just a bunch of eccentric billionaires, not a cabal looking to rule the world. In a public battle, the city will think we're the bad guys, not them."

"Yeah, but it's New York, Wings--everyone here already hates us. Now let's go." She pulled him by the hand down the hallway, leaving Jolt to fume and Charcoal to try and calm her down.

"Stay here, Charlie," she muttered. "I've got to put my costume on."

"What for?" Charcoal asked. "It'll probably be hours before they contact us..."

She sneered, more in defiance of the other Thunderbolts than at her friend's question. "That doesn't mean we have to sit around here when they call. Anyway, it's been months since I've patrolled Manhattan..." She ducked into Songbird's room and slammed the door behind her.

"'Patrol?'" Charlie repeated.

***

Erik Josten was dressed like a sissy.

Most of the Hellfire Club's security detail was outfitted in red-and-blue uniforms with helmets that covered their faces. They were reserved for the Inner Circle's more criminal activities, and didn't need any particular sort of formal attire. The guards posted within the Club's parties, on the other hand, had to reflect the period theme of the organization. It was this job Erik had secured to infiltrate the establishment, and between his 18th century garb and his superhuman stature, he looked like George Washington on steroids.

"Atlas to Hawkeye," he mumbled into a carefully hidden radio. His only consolation was that the Thunderbolts' leader looked like Thomas Jefferson got his nose broken in a fight. "Melissa and Wings finally came to the party--he's introducin' her to all the fancypants. You seen Moonstone yet?"

"I've got the ballroom scouted," Hawkeye answered, "but I'm not expectin' her to show up for a while. She said she had that Trevor Fitzroy character bamboozled pretty good--she's probably got access to more of the building than we do. I sure hope she hasn't bitten off more'n she can chew, Erik..."

Atlas sighed. "Karla's a tough lady, boss," he told his teammate. "She's always been able to take care of herself." That was all he could say, it seemed--Hawkeye's budding romance with Moonstone left him feeling conflicted. He felt like he was betraying Hawkeye by not telling him what she was really like. And yet, for all that he distrusted Karla Sofen, he wouldn't dare betray her either. The Thunderbolts were the only family he had left, and he was determined to do right by them...each and every one of them.

And that included MACH-1--he couldn't help but be reminded of that as Songbird and Archangel entered the ballroom. Abe Jenkins had gone to prison to prove the Thunderbolts' commitment to their redemption, not so Melissa could forget about him and fall for a prettyboy like Warren. With Hawkeye and Moonstone, Atlas just disapproved; with Songbird, he felt like he owed it to MACH-1 to do something about it...

"OK, gang," Hawkeye announced through the other Thunderbolts' comm-links, "it's go time. Everyone ready?"

"All set to be ambushed, Hawkeye," Archangel replied. "No sign of anyone from the Inner Circle."

"We probably won't see many of 'em," Hawkeye explained. "Remember, this whole shebang was set up to bring the Black Queen back from another dimension...along with her boyfriend Blackheart--so if we're lucky, they won't show up."

"Yeah, and I'll bet the nobody invited the Black King to come watch the Black Queen grab him by his hairy white pawns..." Atlas could almost hear Songbird's eyes rolling as she spoke. "This is getting complicated...any chance we can get these dopes to play checkers instead?"

Atlas snickered. "I'll second that plan..." He stopped to watch three wealthy socialites stumble by on their way upstairs, and when the coast was clear he continued. "Unless you gotta better idea, boss..."

"Poker's my game, kids. Songbird, Angel--stay close like you're watchin' each other's backs--they oughta move in when they're convinced you're the only T-bolts in the building. Atlas an' me'll be on the north and south balconies--once they've got you surrounded, they'll never see us comin'."

"Gotcha, Hawk. Atlas out." He did his best to look casual as he made his way up the stairs, weaving around people dressed in formalwear and what could best be described as formal underwear. Atlas didn't even know they made black leather corsets, let alone in men's sizes.

***

"You're hiding something from me."

"Sorry?"

"You know what I'm talking about...before Jolt interrupted you, you were working up the nerve not to tell me why you're avoiding your own home..."

He was hoping she'd forget about it. "Look, Melissa, I let the X-Men use my loft when they visit New York, and I didn't want to get them mixed up in this." It was close enough to the truth--Psylocke was one of the X-Men, he let her use the apartment, and he didn't want her involved.

"So why couldn't you just tell me that back at the hotel?"

"You're not my mother, Songbird..."

"So what am I, then? I thought we stuck together, Wings...when I was too shook up to fly, you helped me out. I stood up for you when the other T-bolts were ready to boot you out. I thought we were..." Archangel's loss for words seemed contagious. She wasn't used to telling people how she really felt about them; with Warren it came so easily that she had to remind herself of her usual emotional barriers. She refused to fall in love with him; she wouldn't make a mistake like that again. All her life she'd been giving her all to whatever man happened to show the slightest interest in her well-being. The memory of Hawkeye pushing her off of him--of catching herself making such a stupid mistake--was still a fresh wound.* She could barely look her leader in the eye after that, and she wouldn't let that happen with Warren. "I mean, I...what I meant was that we're--"

[* THUNDERBOLTS #28.]

"Hold that thought, Melissa. I see something."

"--Huhwhat?"

"Sebastian Shaw," he explained, before he realized the name meant nothing to her. "The Black King--he may have come to the party after all. I need to check this out, or we could wind up in over our heads..."

She stared at him in stunned silence as he turned away, and finally grabbed him by his sleeve. "Now, wait just a second, mister--"

Warren spun around to face her, with a look that said he didn't have time for this. Melissa glared back defiantly. The stalemate ended when he pulled her toward himself, wrapping his arms around her. She instinctively struggled for a moment, and then relaxed in his embrace as he kissed her. Their argument had been unquestionably settled for the time being, and Archangel left her to wander through the crowd.

Songbird stood in the middle of the ballroom floor, watching the back of his blond head disappear in the distance, tasting the memory of his kiss. She barely noticed the man who walked up next to her, despite the fact that he was dressed like a fruitcake and had green hair.

"Melissa Gold, I presume?" Trevor Fitzroy curtsied to her. "I see you've been left alone...I'm sure Worthington won't mind if I cut in..."

***

"Tessa."

The brunette was every bit as striking as anyone else at the mansion, but somehow more subdued, as though she were visually deferring to the superiority of everyone around her. Everyone else in the Hellfire Club was rich or powerful, but Tessa was neither, and she knew her place.

"Mr. Worthington," she answered coldly. "I didn't know you'd be attending..."

"I think you know why I'm here," Archangel replied. He followed her stubbornly as she mingled away from him. "The same reason I wasn't expecting you to show up--why should Sebastian Shaw's 'personal assistant' patronize an event designed to oust him from the Inner Circle?"

"This isn't the X-Men's business, Mr. Worthington..."

He smirked. "And who said I was an X-Man? The Thunderbolts aren't nearly as...tolerant of these mindgames and conspiracies. If Shaw's here, biding his time, he needs to know that we're on the same side..."

"I'm...certain the Black King has considered all of his options..."

"Wouldn't you _know_?" Archangel grabbed her wrist to end her evasions. With the Inner Circle threatening to turn against him, Shaw should have been regrouping with his least treacherous associates. It didn't make sense that Tessa could only speculate as to his plans; her lack of rank and ambition made her someone the Black King could always trust. But the pieces came together when Archangel recalled that Shaw had a habit of letting his libido work its way into Hellfire Club politics. Sooner or later any woman he could come to trust would end up in his bedroom, which meant that he could only fully confide in one woman at a time.

"Unless he's consorting with someone else..." the mutant Thunderbolt concluded.

Tessa fumed. "After the Fitzroy nearly destroyed her,* Selene returned to the Inner Circle with him...and a woman who seemed to be Madelyne Pryor.** At first I thought she hoped to take control of the Club by filling the Inner Circle with applicants loyal to her..."

[* UNCANNY X-MEN #301 and ** X-MAN #22.]

"But Shaw fell for Maddie, which probably surprised you and Selene both." It was an easy guess--he'd known Pryor, and she was the type of woman who could make a man forget every other woman in the room. That had mostly been deliberate--she was a clone, genetically engineered to marry the X-Men's leader, Cyclops. She'd been created at a time when Cyclops believed his lover was dead, and so she resembled Jean Grey down to the last detail. Her creator, Mister Sinister, had no use for her beyond providing a mother to bear Cyclops's children; when she discovered her true nature, her reaction was...understandable.*

[* That whole damn backstory provided courtesy of X-FACTOR #38.]

"The other Thunderbolts and I heard she was in the Club, but...Maddie died, Tessa...I was there when it happened. Are you sure this is the same woman?"

"She believes she is," she answered. "All that matters, though, is that Sebastian believes it too. He believes he has the next best thing to Jean Grey...that he can use her to defeat you and your..." She caught her error and corrected herself. "..to defeat the _X-Men_, if you will. So you see, Mr. Worthington, he has no great need for my services."

Archangel furrowed his brow. "I don't like this...Fitzroy tried to destroy Shaw's organization, almost killed Selene--now he's on their team trying to bring Selene back from hell? Maddie joins the Inner Circle with Selene's sponsorship, and she's the one Shaw trusts to help him beat back Selene's hostile takeover? Your boss is in big trouble, Tessa, and he doesn't realize how big it is. I've got to do something before he gets himself killed--by a bunch of nuts who want to kill the Thunderbolts to make it happennnnn--*"

[* That isn't a footnote asterisk, dummy, it's an "I just got knocked out" asterisk. Geez.]

His body went limp, and he dropped to his knees before two guards approached and lifted him to his feet. They held him there, unconscious, as Tessa surveyed the result of her mutant powers. "I wish that I could let you, Mr. Worthington," she whispered to him, "but I cannot." She motioned to the men, who carried him out of the ballroom.

The guests who bothered to notice the spectacle recognized Warren Worthington as the celebrity/adventurer Archangel, and simply assumed he'd been drinking too much. Others decided that the guards had been forced to pummel him into submission before they escorted him out of the party; some of them offered money to be given the same treatment.

***

"I can't leave you yahoos alone for five minutes..." Hawkeye muttered.

That was how long it had taken him to reach the north balcony, where he was supposed to flank Songbird and Archangel. By the time he got there, Archangel was gone, and Songbird was being hit on by a guy who dressed like a fruitcake and had green hair. The Hellfire Club was making it's move, and the Thunderbolts weren't ready for them.

He grumbled and looked for Atlas on the south balcony, then activated his comm-link. "Atlas, where the hell is Angel?"

"He was taking off through the crowd when I got up here, Hawk. Melissa might know, but she's--"

"Yeah, I know--that's gotta be Fitzroy. I see some of the guards forming up around them. Dammit..." The plan was only going to work if the guards were surrounding the Thunderbolts on the floor. With Archangel out of position, someone would be looking around the room for him, and it'd be impossible for Hawkeye and Atlas to make a surprise attack. The ex-Avenger ran over the situation and considered his options. "OK, Atlas...Plan B."

"We...didn't make a Plan B, boss."

Clint Barton reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a purple cowl with a familiar "H" insignia on it. "That's because I just started on it," the bowman answered as he put the mask on. "I'll go over it with you in a few days." With that, he vaulted himself over the railing and very nearly landed on a woman dressed as the Marquis de Sade. "Hey guys! You've got a security problem on your hands, and his initials are HAWKEYE!"

As he'd hoped, the guards closing in on Songbird and looking for Archangel stopped to see what was going on at the north end of the ballroom...completely diverting their attention from the south. Atlas dived over the balcony, and landed on the floor five times larger. Plan B, Hawkeye decided, would work once he came up with it.

Songbird reacted more quickly than the guards, and stunned Fitzroy with a quick jab to his throat; as he gasped for air she dropped to the ground and swept her legs across his ankles, taking him off his feet. In one fluid motion she sprung back up and tore away her cloak, revealing her sonic carapace. She wouldn't be able to fly without the components back at the hotel, but could compensate.

As Hawkeye found himself accosted by half a dozen guards in the same gaudy uniform he was wearing, Songbird screamed. The sonic carapace transformed her voice into a beam of aimed at Hawkeye's left hand, where it took the form of solid energy...in the shape of a longbow.

"Now you guys," the archer said to the guards as a quiver of sonic arrows materialized on his back, "are in deep, deep trouble."

Hawkeye's skills in hand-to-hand combat were limited compared to his marksmanship. He drew and fired off each arrow smoothly and precisely, even while avoiding the blows of his attackers. Where a man was too close, he'd simply brain the guard with the bow, as though it were an extension of his arm. Soon he fended off any opponent who was within ten feet; and unlike the proximity of fistfighting, Hawkeye had the advantage at a distance.

The guests didn't understand what was going on--none of them understood that the Hellfire Club was dedicated to global domination, or that its ultimate goals brought it into conflicts with superhumans like the Thunderbolts. They were, however, extremely rich and influential members of society, and were smart enough to get away before they were hurt. A few pushed their way out through the exits, but most were stopped by a second wave of guards, armed with submachine guns. These were the red-and-blue soldiers that represented the Club's true power; the ones that the unsuspecting patrons were never supposed to see. That they had been ordered to appear in plain view meant that the guests' fates were sealed.

As the battleground cleared, it was easier for Atlas to take out several guards at once with one mighty sweep of his giant forearm. Hawkeye and Songbird could focus on long-range attacks on any additional guards trying to enter the fray. In a few minutes, it seemed, the Thunderbolts would have the upper hand.

That changed however, when Atlas, Songbird, and Hawkeye were struck by energy blasts that seemingly came from nowhere. At once the three Thunderbolts fell to the ground, allowing Trevor Fitzroy a chance to recover and take control of the situation. "Ahhh, well done, Dr. Sofen!" he applauded as Moonstone phased intangibly up from the floor. "Though I had expected you to let them witness your betrayal."

"They will, Trevor," Moonstone replied. "I've only stunned them for now. They'll get a chance to curse me when I'm slicing their wrists open for your ceremony. I did say I would kill them for you, after all..."

"Indeed..." Fitzroy nudged the still form of Songbird with his foot, and rubbed the bruise she had left on his throat. "Though I'm tempted to make this one suffer personally."

Moonstone walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Mmmm...I'm tempted to ask you to make me suffer in her place. Send the guards away, Trevor...we won't need them anymore..."

Fitzroy smiled wickedly and addressed his minions. "Do as she says...go and help the others keep an eye on our guests. We'll need their souls when the Black Queen and her consort return."

"Good boy," she purred as they left. "It's nice to have the whole ballroom to ourselves...although perhaps someday I'd let them...watch..."

"You intrigue me more and more, Dr. Sofen..." Fitzroy turned to face her as the last guards left and secured the exits. "Still," he gestured to the fallen Thunderbolts, "shouldn't we deal with them?"

Moonstone smirked. "Now, now, Trevor...I have very precise control of my energy beams--from a harmless ray of light to a laser that can melt steel. Besides, I've spent more than enough time with the Thunderbolts to know exactly how much it takes to stop them." She ran her hands through his green hair as she whispered into his ear. "They'll be out cold long enough for us to do..._everything_."

That was when Fitzroy felt something hard crack against the back of his head. Before he could even turn to see what had happened, he collapsed into Moonstone's arms...right before she unceremoniously dropped him onto the floor.

"Yeah, we were 'out' for what? Three minutes?" Songbird rose to her feet and stood next to the floating sonic brick she had created. "I figure that's how long it'd take for Fitz here to--" she assumed Moonstone's seductive tone "--do..._everything_..."

"You certainly took your time, Songbird," Moonstone huffed. "I was beginning to think you wanted to make me kiss him." She looked to Hawkeye. "Fitzroy is an idiot--I told him that you and Atlas would be here so he would trust me, and he trusted me so much that he left it entirely up to me to stop you. I take it I didn't hurt any of you?"

"We're all right, Karla," Hawkeye answered as he stood up, "but we may be the only ones. Everybody who was at this little party is being holed up in the building at gunpoint. We're in for a long night..."

"True..." Moonstone noted. "But at least we've taken Fitzroy out of the equation before he could summon the Clan D'dl'lh. It stands to reason that he was the only one entrusted with the means to do that..."

"So I guess it's on to Plan C now..." Atlas said with a wink to Hawkeye. "Say, anyone ever figure out what happened to Archangel?"

Songbird looked to each of the others. "None of you saw? I mean, you didn't--?" She blinked and shook her head--if they hadn't been watching when he made that pass at her, she wasn't about to explain it. "He...saw something and thought he should investigate. Said something about Shaw being here after all...purple monkey dishwasherrrr..."

Hawkeye stared at her in confusion. "Nitwit blubber oddment--tweak?"

"Raging clip art--zamboni tomato!" Atlas exclaimed.

"I'm sure you're all forming the same conclusions," Moonstone responded, "but the telepathic assault on your minds is preventing you from communicating or taking any sort of action." As though notified by some unseen power, she turned to a door that flew open with a burst of telekinetic energy. Madelyne Pryor and Sebastian Shaw entered the room, arm in arm; Tessa followed behind them, leading an entourage of guards that had remained loyal to their faction.

Shaw cast his piercing gaze on each of the three captive Thunderbolts; each one prevented by Pryor from even thinking about an attack. "It's a shame, really," he announced to them. "I have no quarrel with you, and you went to such trouble to protect me from my...enemies." He paused to stare at Fitzroy disdainfully. "Had it been left up to me, you would have been allowed to escape. However..." He looked to Pryor, who gave him a smile, and he continued, "However, Madelyne has...ideas for using the three of you. You can understand that I wish to reward those who have supported me in this little power struggle."

Hawkeye glared at Moonstone, and then to Shaw. "Mountain Dew, fuse box..." he muttered.

"Such language, Hawkeye," Karla Sofen chastised. She used her powers to create a flash of light around herself, transforming her costume into the more typical black lingerie of the Inner Circle. "Speaking of rewards, Sebastian, I believe there was another announcement you had planned...?"

The Black King took her hand and kissed it. "Indeed, my pet...the Thunderbolts may be the first to learn that their Moonstone will be the next Black Queen of the Hellfire Club!"

Hawkeye ground his teeth. It was indeed Mountain Dew, fuse box.

[next part]

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