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DISCLAIMER

1) This material is not used for monetary profit in any manner.  It is
done solely for enjoyment purposes, and as homage to the great stories
and characters of Marvel Comics Group

2)  All  the  characters,  events,  and locations portrayed within are
recognized as property of Marvel Comics Group should they so wish.

3)  This  story  has been written by Samy Merchi <samerc@mash.yok.utu.fi>.  Any
commentary  in  the  form  of compliments or critique is welcomed, and
eagerly hoped for.  So go ahead and drop me a line telling me what you
thought, okay?  It'll make my day.  ;)

4)  This  story  is  being  archived  at  least  at  my fanfic page at
<http://www.utu.fi/~samerc/fanfic/index.html>.   Previous parts can be
found there if needed.
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                    *** FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE ***
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                     CHAPTER FOUR: The Big Bang!

   Emma   Grace  Frost.   31  years  old.   The  Headmistress  of  the
Massachusetts  Academy.  Also the White Queen of the New York Hellfire
Club.  And perhaps, to certain people, most importantly, the mentor of
the Hellions.
   Manuel  Alfonso  Rodrigo  de la Rocha.  16 years old.  A student at
the  Massachusetts Academy.  A prospective future member of a Hellfire
Club  somewhere  in  the  world.  And, a member of the team of trainee
mutants called the Hellions.
   What   was   the   bond  between  these  two  individuals?   Sexual
attraction?    Manipulating   each   other?   Or  actually,  honestly,
genuinely  caring for each other?  The first two were likely, the last
one  far  less so.  Emma and Manuel did not care about anything except
themselves.   Life,  to  them,  was a cold thing, devoid of caring and
love,  and  full  of  nothing  but  the eternal quest for ever greater
power.  That is what these two individuals were all about.
   Or so everyone thought.

   It  was one month after the ball at the Massachusetts Academy.  But
this  place  was  not  the Academy.  This was, in fact, another school
that  by  a  few people in the know could be called their rivals.  The
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
   The dawn had broken in all the myriad shades of fiery reds, oranges
and yellows, accompanied by the royal purplish hues that signified the
upcoming  transition into the clear, blue day skies.  Daybreak was one
of  nature's  greatest marvels, a beauty unparalleled by any save very
few things.
   One  of  such  things  was  Ororo  Munroe, the tall and proud woman
making  breakfast  in  the kitchen of Xavier's School.  She had been a
goddess  once.   She  had been offered the status again, in a realm of
Norse  gods.   Both  times,  she  had  not been cast down, but she had
herself  rejected  the  title and the status accompanying it.  And for
what?   For  the  opportunity to be with ordinary people...people that
she would call...friends.
   The  ring of the doorbell awakened Ororo from her breakfast-making,
and  she  put  the still unbroken eggs back to the carton, lifting her
chin  slightly,  as she checked she was not leaving anything important
on  the  stove,  to  burn  up,  or  out  in  the open, to dry up.  No,
everything  was  suitable for being left alone for a few minutes.  She
quickly  washed  her  hands,  dried  them onto the towel, and then her
perfectly-balanced  pace  led her calmly from the kitchen to the front
door.
   Quietness  lingered  about  the house, as aside from Logan, who was
out  on his morning jog, Ororo was still the only one up.  She briefly
smiled  at  a  picture forming in her mind's eye, of her Kitten coming
downstairs,  cranky  over  having  been  awakened by the doorbell, and
being  grumpy  at everyone.  A light chuckle slipped past her lips, as
she placed her soft, nimble fingers onto the handle of the front door,
to  open it.  Little would she know how that happy smile would be soon
off her face.
   The  door was pulled open, quietly.  Sam had just a few days before
oiled  the  hinges,  passed  a thought thru Ororo's mind -- before her
eyes set upon the visitor, the form standing in the doorway.
   Ororo had never had an opportunity to talk with the person standing
there, at the door, nor had they ever even properly met.  Nonetheless,
she  immediately  recognized  her,  despite  the sad, sad state of the
unexpected guest.
   Filthy.  That was the first thing that would have come to the minds
of  many  a person, but the word that came to Ororo's mind was instead
'help'.   The girl needed help.  Such was the mindset of Ororo Munroe,
not  concerned with outer trappings, but immediately sensing the inner
anguish in the girl's eyes, reflected in her external appearance.
   The  girl was coated in muck and grime, as if she had been crawling
thru  sewers.   The  stench  arising  from  her  was  nothing short of
horrendous,  all sorts of assorted smells of vomit and liquor hovering
about  her,  making her seem like a derelict.  On top of all that, she
was  bruised  all over, her clothing torn in several places, clutching
almost pathetically to the one thing in her hands, a small purse.  And
the  saddest thing, perhaps, was that the look in her eyes was that of
a person who had no longer the will to care.
   "By the Bright Lady -- Tarot???" sprang the name of the little girl
to Ororo's lips.

   The  taptaptap  of  a  computer  keyboard was the only sound in the
office  at  the moment, aside from Emma's silent breathing, as she was
writing  out  her  evaluations  of  the Hellions' progress this month.
James  showed  no  noticeable  improvement,  almost stagnant...like he
didn't  -want-  to  improve.   And  Emma  knew  that  was the problem.
Proudstar  didn't want to be here, she knew.  She would have to have a
talk  with  him  soon,  about  this.   He would have to decide what he
wanted out of life, since it obviously was not being a Hellion.
   Catseye?  Ahhh...  Emma actually smiled, as her thoughts drifted to
the  purple-haired student of hers.  Catseye had worked out a lot this
month,  improving  the strength and agility of her human form, as Emma
had  suggested.  Frost was pleased.  She would have to commend Catseye
on her progress.
   With  a  mouse click onto the corner of the window, Emma moved onto
Jetstream.   He  was working hard, but had not made much progress this
month.  Perhaps he had reached the top of his ability, Emma considered
for  a  moment, but then shook her head.  No.  There was no such thing
as perfection.  Haroun would need to work on his reaction times still,
and his attentiveness.  He was taken off-guard too easily.  That would
have to change.
   Closing  Haroun's  window, Emma then flipped between the last three
windows.   Tarot,  Roulette and Empath.  Manuel had definitely been up
to a lot this month, Emma knew.  A lot of things that could jeopardize
the entire Hellion team.  That was not something that Emma looked upon
favorably.   But,  on the other hand, Emma knew how taking risks could
pay  off  at  times.  Manuel was taking a risk.  A big risk.  But Emma
was  not  going  to  interfere.  She was going to let him play out his
game.   Let's  see  how this turns out, she thought to herself.  If he
fails...well,  there  are  always punishments to ensure he will be all
the more careful the next time.  And if he succeeds?
   If he succeeds?
   ...
   Emma smiled slightly, and prepared to receive a phone call.

   "How  are  you  feeling,  child?" came Ororo's voice, seeming as if
from  beyond a thousand miles to Tarot.  No reply was forthcoming from
the  Hellion's lips, as she stared numbly down into her lap, her messy
red  hair hanging in front of her face.  She was sitting in a recliner
in  the  sitting  room,  where  Ororo  had guided her to after she had
showed up.
   Slight  concern  overtook  Ororo, and she picked up the receiver of
the cordless phone on the wall, offering it to Marie-Ange.  "Would you
like  to  call  your  Headmistress?"  she  asked, her tone still soft,
caring,  like  silk  and  cotton wrapped up around you, to comfort, to
nurture.  "Does she know you are here?"
   Still,  the redhead remained silent, as if fallen into a coma.  Not
caring about the filthy condition of the Hellion, Ororo's hand brushed
Marie-Ange's  hair  behind her head, revealing the darkened, sad eyes,
and  the  cheeks  glittering with the trails of Goddess knows how many
tears.   Sympathetic  pain  wracked  at Ororo's heart, and she let her
hand  caress Tarot's head, comfortingly, but to no effect.  "Would you
like me to call her?"
   "NO!!!"  Suddenly,  Tarot's  head  snapped up, looking into Ororo's
with  wild  desperation,  almost  -  maybe  more than almost - terror.
"Please..." she breathed rapidly, like out of breath, or ready to pass
out.   "I  need  to...   I need to..." She swallowed, and bit her lip,
looking down to her lap again, closing her eyes tightly, clutching the
purse in her lap.  "I need to see...Rasputin..."
   "Peter?"  Ororo  lifted  an  eyebrow,  confused.   "But  I  do  not
underst..." she started, before being interrupted.
   Tarot  shook  her head, tears again starting to run down her cheek,
almost  choking  her  voice.   "No,  his..."  she started saying, then
sniffled, and shook a few times under her crying.  "His sister..." she
managed to speak, just barely.
   In  the following few moments of silence, Ororo quirked her eyebrow
further,   as  she  looked  at  Marie-Ange  and  her  pathetic  state.
"Illyana?"  she  asked  after  a  few moments, and was rewarded with a
quick,  desperate  nod  from  the  Hellion  girl.  Storm then placed a
reassuring  hand  onto Tarot's shoulder, and offered a warm smile.  "I
will  go  get  her",  she  said  softly.   "It  should  take but a few
minutes."
   For a few brief moments, Ororo considered if this could be a Trojan
Horse,  a  herald  for  an  attack,  but  quickly  dismissed the idea.
Xavier's School had recently allied themselves with the Hellfire Club.
There should be no problems, she decided.  But, nonetheless, she would
need  to be careful, on her guard.  Perhaps it would be better to call
someone  to  keep  watch  on  Tarot?   She  nodded  mutely  to her own
thoughts.   But  there  was  no  one  around, and she would have to go
upstairs  in  any  case  if  she wanted to awaken someone to watch for
Tarot.   She  sighed  a  bit,  in resignation, and decided to take the
risk.
   Ororo  silently  headed  for the door of the sitting room, glancing
back  to  Tarot  one  more time, and offering a smile the girl missed,
staring  downwards  as  she was, clutching her purse.  "I will be back
shortly."

   Haroun  ibn  Sallah  al-Rashid  -- Jetstream -- was a man of silent
loyalty.   He  owed  his  current life to two people -- Emma Frost and
Donald  Pierce.   The latter had designed and implemented Haroun's new
bionic  cyborg body after the first manifestation of his mutant powers
had  nearly killed him.  The former had then taken him in, trained him
in the use of his powers, and provided an education he could have only
dreamed of in his home of North Africa.
   He  silently  paced down the hall in the boys' dorm building, as he
occupied  himself  with  one  of his favorite pastimes.  Thinking.  He
knew  for  a  fact that Tarot had been gone for a few days, and no one
knew  anything  about  her  whereabouts.   He suspected that Frost was
fully  aware of this, but had not confronted her about the matter.  He
was  certain  that  Empath had something to do with this -- he enjoyed
tormenting  Tarot.   What was going on?  Jetstream's forehead furrowed
in deep thought.  What was Manuel planning this time?
   A  rhythmical,  solidly  resonating, bold knock rang on the door as
Haroun's  knuckles  rapped  against it thrice.  It was unacceptable to
maintain  the  illusion  of  everything  being all right.  Things were
wrong,  and  this would have to be admitted.  No, Haroun was not going
to  do anything without Frost telling him to do so, but he intended to
at least talk to his teammates.  He wanted to know what was going on.
   "Come in", said a strong voice from beyond the door, and Haroun
opened it, stepping inside, and closing it behind him.
   James Proudstar -- Thunderbird -- was a man full of emptiness.  The
single  driving  goal  of  his  life had been extinguished when he had
confronted  the  man  he  had  wanted to accuse of his older brother's
death -- Charles Xavier.  For years, James had been convincing himself
that  Xavier  had  used  his  mental powers to force John Proudstar to
leave  his home of Camp Verde, and been the one responsible for John's
death  in  battle  against Count Luchino Nefaria.  Nefaria himself had
soon  thereafter  met his demise at the hands of Iron Man, or so Frost
had  told  James  when  she  had  offered  him  the chance to join the
Hellions.   She  had  offered  to  help  him gain revenge on the still
living  participants in his brother's death -- Charles Xavier and Sean
Cassidy.   But,  when  James  had finally confronted Xavier, he had to
face  the  reality.   John was, always had been, the master of his own
destiny,  and no one could make him do something he didn't wish to do.
And his reason for vengeance against Xavier had been taken away.  Now,
he  had  nothing  left.   Nothing except a group of bickering children
called the Hellions whom he was supposed to lead.  Why?
   As  Haroun entered the room, James lifted his head up from the book
he  was  reading,  lying on his bed.  "Jetstream", he nodded politely.
"What's up?"
   "I...require  to discuss a matter of some importance, Thunderbird",
Haroun replied.
   "Okay",  James answered, and put his book away onto the nightstand,
sitting  up  onto  the  edge  of the bed, looking towards Haroun.  "Go
ahead."
   "Very  well",  Haroun  nodded.   "As  you are undoubtedly aware of,
Tarot has been...unavailable for some days now."
   "Well...yeah.  You're worried about her?"
   "I am...curious.  It is unlike her to disappear in a manner such as
this,  without  informing  of  her intentions and an estimated time of
return."
   James  gave  a  brief nod, his brows knitting together thoughtfully
for a moment.  "I'm sure she's all right.  If there was trouble, Frost
would  have  let  us  know,  and  do  something  about it." But James'
thoughts  were  very  contrary to his words.  He was worried, himself.
He just didn't show it.
   "Yes..." Haroun nodded briefly, feeling just as much reassured.  He
was very dubious of Frost's intentions and goals.  But he was loyal to
her, and it was not up to him to sow seeds of dissention in the ranks.
"You  must  be  correct", he said.  "I believe I'll pass by Ms Frost's
office on my way to ascertain my credits for the Philosophy course.  I
shall  visit  her and inquire about the matter." He turned around, and
opened the door, preparing to step outside.
   For  a  brief  moment, James hesitated.  Then, he quickly grabbed a
jacket.  "Hold on, I'm coming along!" he called after the Arab.

   "G'way...'mgonnasleep..."
   Katherine  Anne  Pryde was not a morning person.  She *hated* being
woken  up  early in the morning...or late in the night, as she thought
of  it.   Stupid Logan.  Why did those stupid exercises always have to
be  so  early?   No human being should have to get out of bed at those
times.   Feh.  She grumbled, and rolled over onto her other side after
muttering,  trying to ignore the hushed whispers coming from the other
side of the room.
   Ororo  smiled  slightly,  warmly, as she glanced across the room to
her  little  Kitten  rolling over, then turned her attention back into
Kitty's  roommate,  the  person she had come to fetch.  "I did not ask
her", she whispers in return to a question.
   "Feh", Illyana grumbled, wanting to get out of bed as much as Kitty
did.  She pouted slightly, and then buried her head against the pillow
for  a  few  moments,  like  an ostrich trying to hide her head in the
sand.
   But  Ororo went nowhere.  Illyana kept trying to pretend she wasn't
there,  trying  to  get  back  to sleep...but Ororo just waited there.
Waited.   Stood  there.   By  her bed.  Quietly.  Not saying anything.
Just  standing there.  Didn't even move.  Anywhere.  "ARGH!!!" Illyana
finally shouted, after a few minutes.  "OKAY, OKAY, I'LL GET UP!!"
   Kitty  groaned  at  the  noise.   "Shut  up, roomie!" she said, and
half-asleep,  tossed  a pillow, which hit Illyana in the face, causing
the  still-sleepy  and  blurry-eyed  teenage mutant demon sorceress to
fall off the edge of her bed and onto the floor.
   "Oomph!"  Illyana  exclaimed  as she fell on her butt, and stumbled
up.   "You'll  pay  for  that,  Pryde", she grumbled while rubbing her
eyes,  and  suddenly  two stepping disks flared into existence, golden
disks of light, one of them rising thru Kitty's bed and swallowing her
up,  while the other rose under Illyana, and transported her away in a
likewise  manner.   "We'll see you downstairs in a bit..." she said to
Ororo, as she disappeared from sight.
   Ororo   smirked   and  shook  her  head  slightly  in  good-natured
amusement.   Children  would always be children.  Then, she headed out
the door, leaving the now-empty room behind her.

   "James.  Haroun.  What can I do for you?"
   Emma was sitting behind her desk, and motioned for the two Hellions
to  sit down in the chairs before the desk as she turned her attention
from the computer onto them.
   "Ummm..."  James started, a bit unsure on how to address the matter
they  had  come to discuss.  He looked to his right, to Jetstream, the
master of wordplay.
   Haroun  did not need to glance to his left to know that the talking
would  fall  onto  his shoulders, and he began, with well-articulated,
perfectly-intoned  words.   "Ms  Frost", he started.  "As you are well
aware of, the Hellions are a team, and a team's fundamental essence is
that it is greater than the sum of its parts.  This is accomplished by
exercising  teamwork and camaraderie, which is what I and James intend
to   practice  by  expressing  our...curiosity  over  Tarot's  current
whereabouts and status."
   A  slight  smirk  slowly  crept onto Emma's lips.  "In other words,
Haroun -- you are concerned for her." She held a slight pause, and let
her words dangle in the air.  "Am I wrong?"
   Both  Hellions  were  perfectly aware of the fact that Emma -was- a
telepath.   And  an  unscrupulous  one  at  that.  They knew they were
concerned  --  and so, probably, Emma did as well.  There was no point
in  bluffing to someone who knew you as well as you knew yourself.  If
not  better.   "That would not be an inaccurate assessment, Ms Frost",
Haroun nodded.
   Taking  a  deep  breath,  Emma stood up behind her desk, and turned
around  to look out the window, overlooking the campus.  A few moments
of  silence  passed,  as  she  put  on the appearance of contemplating
things.   "On  Monday",  Emma  finally  said, putting a slight tone of
resignation  into  her  voice,  simulating  that  she was telling this
reluctantly,  "Marie-Ange  came  to  speak  with  me.   She  wished  a
temporary leave, to be away from Manuel." She adjusted the blinds with
her hand slightly, darkening the room a bit.  "I made an offer for her
to  stay for some time in my penthouse in New York." Another pause, as
she turned around again, to face James and Haroun.  "She accepted."
   The Hellions listened attentively, knowing better than to interrupt
their mentor, knowing that she wasn't finished yet.
   "She  asked me to keep her whereabouts secret from you, because she
wished  privacy  in  her contemplation.  I granted her this." A pause.
"However,  I  grow  concerned.   Perhaps allowing her to wallow in her
misery  will  only be counterproductive to her healing.  This is why I
am telling you this.  I am beginning to be convinced that the only way
for  her  to overcome her troubles is with help from her friends." The
smile  widened  a  bit.   "I  was  waiting  to  see which of you would
volunteer."
   James'  eyebrow  rose  slightly.   "So  you  were  just waiting for
someone to come ask you?"
   "That is correct, James", Emma stated with a nod.
   The  curiosity on Jetstream's expression deepened slightly.  "Might
I  inquire as to the nature of the problem Tarot is having?  I suspect
it  is  related  to  Manuel,  but  I  have no further knowledge on the
matter."
   Emma  took  a deep breath, and, again, pretended slight reluctancy.
"I...am  not  certain  how  much I should reveal, Haroun.  To tell you
would be an invasion of her privacy, which she has a right to."
   Haroun frowned, and gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.
   "But...perhaps  it would help you, in helping her..." Emma went on,
and  held  a  long  pause  before speaking further.  "It is related to
Manuel, yes...and his preoccupation over the New Mutant..."

   "...MAGIK!"
   Tarot  practically  leaped  up  from  her  chair as a stepping disk
brought Illyana, and a...changed Kitty into sight.
   "Goddess!"  Ororo  exclaimed  as  she saw the sight that was Kitty.
The  girl was dressed in tight black leather and high heels, a vest of
similar style on her.  And her hair?  It was a mohawk now.  The girl's
look and attire had been changed into a complete replica of what Ororo
wore normally during the day.
   "I'm  gonna  kill  you  for  this,  roomie",  Kitty muttered as the
stepping  disk  brought her into sight from Limbo, the dimension where
Illyana reigned as sorceress supreme.
   Illyana  giggled  slightly  at  her roommate.  "Oh come on, where's
your adventurous spirit, Pryde?  Besides, my brother's gonna flip when
he  sees..."  She  paused there, as her face turned towards Tarot, and
the smile quickly disappeared from her lips.
   Similarly,  Kitty's head turned towards Tarot, following Illyana's,
and  Ororo's eyes quickly followed.  But all three were too late.  All
they  could  do,  is  realize the situation, their eyes widening, as a
gun, pulled from the filthy purse, was pointed right at Illyana.
   *BLAM*