Where War Goes, Death Follows.

[Rand O'Neill]

The young man occupied a seat at the bar, a drink situated in front of him, almost touching his elbow as he gazed silently at the large plasma television screen situated on the back wall. All around him, twenty-somethings laughed and made all sorts of commotion, some dancing, others shooting billiards or darts. He rarely saw anyone above thirty in Peppers, for he supposed that it appealed to a younger crowd, for even the owners weren't a day over thirty-five.

Taking a sip of his beer, he focused on the top story that was now broadcasting. The sound on the set was turned off, but subtitles ran across the screen, Rand reading them as they popped up. Two legal correspondents were debating the ethics of re-introducing the Cure. Rand sneered at the thought, for he knew that if the Cure was to be reintroduced to the world, his Lord would certainly put an immediate stop to it.

Taking his gaze away from the screen, he glanced down at his glass, his distorted reflection looking back at him. Rand had a fair skin tone, mesmerizing green-blue eyes, and light brownish blond hair that could just barely be seen as his wide-brimmed black hat covered most of his scalp. Today he wore a dark blue silk scarf that covered the scars of his youth. He absently fingered the scarf and the old wound, feeling the slight groove of the skin.

A black 18th Century styled coat with silver cufflinks and a pin in the shape of a sword decorated the coat, which covered a ruffled white silk shirt and a medallion in the shape of a fox's head. White cloth pants and black high topped boots completed the outfit. So far today he had received no comments on his choice of dress, and he found that to be quite odd, for usually if he was in public, which he often was, he got atleast three or more snide remarks about his dress.

The youth was actually a powerful man, the White King of a notorious Club, the Hellfire Club to be exact. But, he also had allegiances to a different club, one that wasn't as notorious....yet. His Master would strike only when the time was right, but now he was gathering himself an army, an army for his Horseman of War to lead into battle. A few old memories fluttered from the back of his mind as he took another sip of his beverage.

He had been to war many times, and one thing was certain. Where War wreaked its havoc, Death followed.

[vanessa]

How true was that saying....'Where War wreaked its havoc, Death followed.' War was the chaotic point in the game, the upturning of such peaceful times and Death was the great equalizer, putting down all pain and suffering, helping everyone caught up in War's whirlwind find that peaceful moment of eternal sleep. Of course, this incarnation of Death, the one known as Vanessa Madison, wasn't quite the angel of mercy some expected of Death...no...she was malicious and unmerciful in her bounty and stopped at nothing to achieve her goal(s).

Rand may have been largely ignored by the other patrons to some extent, but a small young woman in the back of the bar, sitting at a booth by herself, had both eyes on him. She was dressed casually, sporting a pair of faded ripped blue jeans which rode low on her hips and a slit up each ankle to give room for her black combat boots. She wore a tight black long sleeve tee with a retro looking skull and crossbones on it, the skull seeming as if it were laughing. Her somewhat curly black hair hung lazily about her face, hiding the left side mostly, only adding to the mystery more. Her fingernails were painted black of course and no jewelry adorned her body anywhere...at least not any that could be seen anyway. Vanessa dress came across as some reject from a Gothic phase gone wrong, but she really didn't care, she wasn't out to impress anyone here.

In front of Vanessa on the table was three or four shot glasses, each one turned upside down, a sign of some small victory. In her right hand rested another shot glass full of some sort of dark liquor, whiskey perhaps. She ran one finger back and forth across the small rim of the glass, contemplating her night. It appeared Rand had no idea she was here but then again, he could have known and just chose to ignore her completely, after all, he had an image to keep up with the HFC. His placement in the secret society was tricky enough and his role was too pivotal to risk or throw away, so caution was always needed in public. Of course, caution wasn't really Vanessa's strong suit and so, tossing her head back, downing the dark liquid of the shot glass, Vanessa made up her mind. She slammed the glass upside down with the others on the table and pushed them all aside in her best effort to stand. She ran her hand through the tangled mess of her hair and smiled crookedly, her eyes still set on Rand.

"Hey babe," came the sound of some half drunk college dork from behind her, not the brightest move on the idiots part for the night. Closing her eyes, Vanessa took a deep breath and smiled, shaking her head, "Step off dick...I don't have time for two bit losers like you," she snapped off rather irritated and perhaps anyone else who wasn't mentally challenged and drunk might have took the warning and cut their losses, but no...not this jerk. "What's your problem bitch?," he asked, making mistakes two and three as he grabbed Vanessa by the arm, spinning her around to face him. The size difference between Vanessa and this steroid abusing gorilla really wasn't a factor as the flat liner was about to learn. Vanessa twisted free from the young man's grasp, grabbing his wrist quickly kicking him in the knee, sending him off balance. Her free hand found the back of the man's neck, pulling his arm toward her as she angled his face toward the table she just stood up from. The man's arm crossed across his neck and the sound of his shoulder dislocating mixed with the sound of his breaking nose against the hard table. "Shit!," he exclaimed as Vanessa let go of him and allowed his drunk ass fall to the floor. She then crouched down and tapped him hard on the forehead, "I told you to step off.....'cause honestly sweetheart.....I'm way outta your league," she said, adding insult to injury.

[Rand O'Neill]

As he downed the rest of his drink, Rand suddenly felt a pair of eyes on him. The bar was crowded, and it could have been anyone, but he decided to take a look anyway. Turning 90 degrees in his chair, he surveyed the room, eyes passing over everyone he saw. Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, he turned back around and signalled for another drink.

Rand was in a tricky situation at this point in his life. A slip up on his part could perhaps cost him all that he had worked for. Stress was his new best friend, second only to the bars that he drowned his new best friend in. He had to keep a low profile so that the Inner Circle wouldn't dare to suspect him being one of Lord Apocalypse's high-ranking officials. Rand wasn't sure that they would object to his being with Apocalypse, who guaranteed power, for the Hellfire Club was in love with anything or anybody that brought them power...but he couldn't be sure, and that's why he had to be careful.

As the bartender, a pretty young woman wearing tight leather pants and a red, low cut, rather revealing shirt, brought him another drink, her eyes widened and suddenly Rand heard a load of extra commotion behind him. Turning to inspect what was going on, his eyes met a familiar figure as she had her way with yet another victim. Rand knew this woman as the Horseman of Death. All the young man could do was writhe in pain as the audible sound of his shoulder dislocating filled the bar.

Shaking his head in amusement and making a slight "tsk, tsk, tsk" noise, he drained his new glass of beer and set the empty glass on the bar. Giving a wink to the bartender, he left a few bucks tip next to the empty beer mug. As Rand walked over to Vanessa's table in the back, the unfortunate young man was being helped away by two of his pals, who looked as if they too had been beat up by the small woman. Still smiling, Rand took a seat across from Vanessa, who to him, looked very content.

"When will they ever learn, eh?" he asked casually.

[Warren Worthington III]

((OOC: If preferred I can start a new thread, I just thought this one would be an interesting place to start. I am playing at developing a brief history for the characters, if you would rather something else be worked out just PM me or hit me on AIM))

Warren stepped out of the stretch Rolls in front of Peppers. He'd been aware of the man he was meeting today, Rand O'Neill. They'd met recently at one of the Galas the Hellfire Club was always throwing for some cause or another. Young Worthington was usually in attendance, his father having decided that he should make public appearances periodically so the public wouldn't figure out that he was now living and working at a school for mutants. To the public eye Warren was little more than the industrial prince he was portrayed by the press his father had bought and paid for. It was simply good business for Worthington Industries holdings to have such a pretty face to put forth.

Warren shrugged his shoulders slightly as he adjusted the coat on his wide shoulders. It was a subconscious act by now. The harness beneath his clothing had a tendency to ride up after sitting for a while. He hated wearing the thing but he knew it was a necessary evil. He smiled at the driver as he dismissed him, "I'll call you when I am ready for you."

Worthington entered the bar proper as the light from outside briefly illuminated his profile. He made his way to the bar, over hearing a woman dismiss a would be suitor with a skill he wondered if he could overcome with his own considerable charms.

"Step off dick...I don't have time for two bit losers like you,"

Warren grinned. He liked her attitude. His own had been darkening considerably over the past months. He was about to be reminded just why. A patron approached him now, slightly intoxicated, something Worthington had never really been able to accomplish thanks to his metabolism. He almost knew what the man was going to say even before he said it.

"Hey you are that kid...the son of that guy..."

"That makes perfect sense. Yes...I am my father's son." Worthington nearly snapped in response, though his pleasant facade hadn't shifted at all. He released a heavy sigh. This would go one way or another, neither thrilled him in the slightest.

"You should be proud of what your Dad tried to do! He's a hero!

"Sure...yeah...er, thanks. I'll get right on that," Warren pushed past the man. It was jerks like this fault for making him feel like he shouldn't be a mutant. He couldn't help who or what he was. Besides flight was the only thing that truly made him happy. He had hoped to find a new home with the X-men but in the past year he had only begun to feel even more lonely. Which brought him full circle to why he was here. A man passed him in shadow, joining the woman at the table behind him as he moved to the bar. He was here to meet with Rand O'Neill to discuss an opportunity, just what it was he didn't know.

They'd spoken at the Hellfire Club, so he figured it had something to do with the fact that he was a legacy member. His family had been directly involved in the creation of the Club itself. He couldn't know yet just what was in store for him. Somewhere, hidden in a secret camp was a charismatic Egyptian with fortunes to rival his own waiting to persuade Worthington to serve him. What else was in store for the Angel, including the Hellfire Club, was soon to become secondary to the winged one. Warren was to become the warrior Pestilence, the Harbinger of Doom.

The Billionaire's son stood at the bar and ordered a drink. Despite his keen eyesight, he had missed seeing the man he was here to meet. He took his first sip of the drink that he hoped wouldn't become one of a series. It was no fun drinking when you couldn't even get a buzz.

[vanessa]

Vanessa smiled rather arrogantly as she stood, watching they jock she had just dismissed being dragged off by his equally drunk friends. "It was good for me champ," she said teasingly as she blew the small dispersing crowd a kiss. Vanessa wasn't afraid of anyone, well save for one but only fools wouldn't fear Lord Apocalypse. Fear was the mind killer, it was the thing which kept you from advancing, the thing which made you weak and pathetic and Vanessa Madison was neither one of those things. She was the Horseman of Death, the embodiment of fearlessness and determination, the one thing that no man could escape.

As Vanessa turned back toward her table, Rand was already there (big surprise) with that ever present confident smirk on his face. Rand was the one person who stood in her way of being Lord Apocalypse's number one and this ate at her somewhat, but Rand had earned his place and while he was strong enough to hold it, then so be it, but if he slipped up just once, well....Vanessa would be there too quick to step in and remove him from the post, after all, the strong ruled the weak. As for now though, Vanessa gave Rand his free reign and knew her place, although only because of her respect for Lord Apocalypse. "That's just it Rand.....they don't," she said with a crooked smile as she glanced toward the front door as the battered young man and his friends left, "Those backwater monkeys aren't as bright as they think themselves to be," she added with a sigh as she slumped back down into the booth, opposite of Rand. "Looks like the winged wonder is here," she said with a smile as she glanced over her shoulder to the end of the bar, "I just hope he's got more going for him than that pretty face of his," she added with what sounded like jealousy, turning her attention back to Rand now. Vanessa didn't like others butting in where she didn't want them, especially when it concerned taking up time that Lord Apocalypse could spend with her.

[Alphonse Giordano]

There are perks to being able to walk through walls. There are the granted: evasion of police, making almost every security system obsolete, the occasional women's locker room or two, and being able to scare the living daylights out of anyone you so choose. But then came the downsides: being a social pariah, considered a freak of nature, and naturally the fear of not making it all the way through a wall, or suffocating partway through. Now, throw in a little bit of gravitational manipulation, and the perks outweigh the downsides.

If anyone asked if Alphonse abused his ability, he would respond in heavily accented English, "Abuse is such a strong...accurate word. I have a gift, I use it. If you had my gift, so would you." Subsequently, three years ago, they would probably find their wallets or money missing the next time they checked. Nowadays, everything was different. Now he was both a high-ranking member of a politically-secret society bent on economic/political world domination, and one of three members of an extremely-secret society bent on total domination.

Now there were the other two in one place, and the potential fourth member joining them. And where was dear little Famine? Coming straight from a rather odd meeting between himself, and a radical Vietnamese rebellion leader to discuss exactly how tribute would be paid to the Hellfire Club after a revolution in the coming months. Naturally, it might not have the chance to happen after...His takeover...but that aside, Alphonse had to get bac to his bodyguard duties.

He arrived by way of motorcyle, some Japanese-made high-performance one painted with streaks of grey, white, and chrome. Alphonse had witnessed the next potential Horseman step out of his car, and realized that drawing more attention at the front door probably was not the best idea. He walked around to the corner of the building where Vanessa, Rand, and Warren were to sit. He popped his head through the wall, before stepping through and taking a seat on the other side of Vanessa.

He had a calm, sly smile on his face, the one that said, "Can't touch me, *insert music here* Can't touch me." Alphonse knew that Vanessa didn't like him. Even HE preceeded her as Famine preceeds Death. To quote the book of Revelations,

"And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see.
And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.
And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.
And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.
And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.
And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.
And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see.
And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth."

Alphonse nodded to Rand, then looked to Vanessa and said, "Hello Death, War, how goes your evening? Filled with beating the pathetic mortals senseless? I saw a slight trail of blood leading out of the bar, and assumed that you might have had a hand in it, Vanessa."

[Rand O'Neill]

With that ever present grin on his face, Rand watched as his White Knight entered the bar. He too shared Rand's predicament, for Alphonse Giordano was The Horseman of Famine, but he was also the White Knight in Rand's Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club. If only they knew, he thought with a sly smirk. How nice of them, three Horsemen of Apocalypse, to all be together on this lovely night...

Right. A night with Death was bound to be anything but lovely. But Rand had to admire her for her hardness, her sheer determination. Hard work had gotten Vanessa Madison everything she had in life, and she deserved her title as Death. She was like a cobra, beautiful, but deadly, and to be respected.

The reason that they were gathered here was not quite obvious, but Rand had scheduled a meeting with young Warren Worthington the Third at his last little Hellfire gathering. The X-Man hadn't quite seemed like himself, as if something was weighing heavily on his mind. From his seat in the booth, Rand quietly surveyed the crowd, his eyes coming upon the young man, for it was umistakably him, the bulge of his alabaster wings hidden beneath his clothing.

The young Angel was seated at the bar, not speaking with anyone. With a sigh, Rand asked a favor of his fellow Horsman.

"Famine, would you see to it that Mr. Worthington joins us? And, tell the waitress to bring another round of drinks", he asked with an air of authority. After all, he was the superior...and of course The Knight could walk through anything he wished.

Things were going to turn out nicely, but Rand just hoped it was before anything else happened...

[Alphonse Giordano]

Alphonse looked over to his comrade/superior/protective charge, smiled, and nodded. Without a word, he slid out of the table, and went through the crowd toward Warren...literally. Every person in his way felt an unusual cold in whatever part of their body that Alphosne passed through. For some, the chill ran down their spine. As a playful gesture, a rather fetching young woman felt a chill in places rather unmentionable. But all that aside, Alphonse arrived right behind Warren, and gave him a nice tap on the shoulder to get his attention.

He said to the young millionaire in his ever-so-heavy Italian accent, Mr. Worthington I presume? I ask that you join us in the corner table, the one with the other oddly-dressed man and the beautiful femme fatale. The introductions will done there. Pardon if my English is stunted. Alphonse gestures to his table, then looks to the waitress at the bar, and performs a very mild double take.

It happens to be yet ANOTHER very attractive young woman, who seems not to have noticed his red eyes. He says to her, "Ms, another round of drinks for the corner table please...and if it would not be too much to ask, dinner next Friday night? Call me with your answer. With what appeared to be a very nice sleight of hand (which was simply Alphonse's hand phasing through his pocket) he whips out both the payment for the drinks, and his card which he hands to the young woman, before stepping back to the table, gesturing Warren to follow.

[Warren Worthington III]

As he sat at the bar, Warren's mind replayed the last few months. He needed to make a change but he just wasn't sure how. He wasn't happy, that was certain. He smiled as he took a sip of his drink, the idea that money definitely didn't buy happiness danced through his mind. The bartender approached him, well, not exactly approached him but she was hovering. She'd been wiping down the same spot for over a minute.

Warren looked her up and down, the tight red tank revealing the top half of her breasts, the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra gave him a good idea about the rest. Worthington nodded wishing he was telepathic. It was difficult to explain the wings to women for the purposes of a one time encounter. It would be much easier to simply wipe their minds. Surprised and a little guilty about the thought Worthington took another sip from the glass, offering her a twenty to refill it for him, "The same, please."

Warren felt what he thought was a draft of cool air behind him. Turning on the stool, he found himself face to face with with a pale man roughly his own age and height. Warren was about to ask if he could help the guy when he spoke first.

" Mr. Worthington I presume? I ask that you join us in the corner table, the one with the other oddly-dressed man and the beautiful femme fatale. The introductions will done there. Pardon if my English is stunted."

Warren glanced behind him toward the table and spotted the odd fashion that the young Italian had mentioned. The expensive black fabric of the coat was expertly set off by silver cuff links. The hint of a blue scarf could be seen but not any more of the man. The same couldn't be said of the woman across from him. She was amazing to look at, even if she was a little dark. The look suited her though. Warren looked back to the man who had approached him and nodded in reply, "Of course, but call me Warren."

"Ms, another round of drinks for the corner table please...and if it would not be too much to ask, dinner next Friday night? Call me with your answer."

Warren stood and waited for the man to pass one of his cards to the young woman behind the bar. Warren grinned when he noticed the slight of hand, "Nice trick." He waited until they were out of earshot to say, "I would have asked her out too."

Warren arrived at the table, perhaps not as quickly as the Italian. He spotted Rand then and extended an open palm with the greeting, "Its not easy to get past me, but it appears that you have. My apologies, Rand for keeping you waiting." He decided then to introduce himself to the young woman not wanting to assume that they all knew him as rare as that was, "I'm Warren. Worthington. Like Bond but longer." He flashed a grin for them all as he slipped into the booth, anxious to find our why he was here. And why there were two strangers here with Rand O'Neill. He couldn't remember seeing either of them at the Hellfire Club though he could have missed them. He didn't go there except for the most publicized parties.

[Alphonse Giordano]

"I would have asked her out too."

Alphonse chuckled, and looked over to his possible comrade, and fellow club member. In a friendly tone, he replied, "Then it seems, Warren, that you have an excellent taste in women, if I may say so myself...oh, word to the wise, do NOT make any moves on our other bewitching guest. Lovely as she may be, I'm almost certain that she could have you leaving this building in an ambulance...if you're lucky. He then calmly slipped into the chair, and extended his hand also to Warren, not just out of courtesy but to keep Vanessa from crushing the bones in his hand if she took his introduction the wrong way.

"And I would be Alphonse Giordano...much larger than Signor Bond...though admittedly this Craig fellow does the character justice.

As he finished, the waitress he had just so recently invited on a date passed by and delivered the drinks. She flashed a smile, and Alphonse responded with a grin and a wink. Three years ago, he probably would have been thrown out of a place such as this over five minutes ago. But that aside, he tipped her, and reconcentrated his focus on Warren. He wondered how he would respond to Apocalypse's offer...one so hard to refuse.

[vanessa]

Vanessa narrowed her eyes and took a breath, steadying herself as Famine made his grand entrance. Vanessa's mood was still rather sullen and malice filled and having Famine here, so close to her, well...it really didn't help matters. It wasn't that Vanessa hated Famine, he just irked her, but then again, who in her life didn't. Vanessa wasn't really your social butterfly and would rather slit your throat as to even look at you, but still, she held her tongue and did her best to ignore the third partner to enter this happenstance meeting. Three of the Four Horsemen were here and complete and the potential fourth sitting at the bar with no idea of what was about to happen to his so called life.

As Rand asked Famine to bring the young Angel over, Vanessa smiled briefly, eager to see just how Angel would take the offer about to be laid at his feet. Of course, it wouldn't matter if the young mutant readily accepted or not, that wasn't his decision to make. Lord Apocalypse had already chosen his fourth and now, well....Angel would be it, like it or not. "You know...I don't really think he'll jump at the chance like you and I did," Vanessa said as she traced invisible lines on the table top with her finger, her eyes appearing as if she wasn't really interested or paying attention. "I've got my car out back and the jet is fueled and waiting at the airport," she added casually, letting Rand know all preparations were in place and that she was ready to move at his word. "I even brought a parting gift," she said, here eyes going wide and the smile on her face showing things weren't going to end well for the other patrons. Vanessa slipped a small cylindrical device from her sleeve and ran her thumb over the red button on top. "Should level this place and the one next door if I built it right," she added, turning her eyes up to Rand and hiding the device back in her sleeve once more.

Warren's voice drew Vanessa's attention, as it did Rand's and she gave the new recruit a once over, quirking one eyebrow and silently admitting to herself that he was a bit cute, but still far from her type. Vanessa wasn't into the pretty boys and to be honest, when she wanted a pretty face, she usually stuck to the ladies. Power was what attracted Vanessa, be it man or woman, and right now, Warren really didn't radiate any.

[Warren Worthington III]

"Then it seems, Warren, that you have an excellent taste in women, if I may say so myself...oh, word to the wise, do NOT make any moves on our other bewitching guest. Lovely as she may be, I'm almost certain that she could have you leaving this building in an ambulance...if you're lucky. "

Warren grinned in response to Alphonse' commentary, withdrawing his hand and redirecting it into Famine's hand to avoid a potential injury. His eyes did flash on the woman, for the first time he began to wonder if he was among mutants. He looked over at Rand, the question forming in his eyes. He was about to make an attempt at somehow politely asking when the man next to him spoke again.


"And I would be Alphonse Giordano...much larger than Signor Bond...though admittedly this Craig fellow does the character justice."

"Agreed, best installment in ages." Warren answered with a nod. He sat back in his seat as he glanced between Rand and the young woman. He couldn't help but feel he had just interrupted their all too private conversation. He supposed that he had. The waitress served them, although he was apparently the only one interested in his drink as he reached for the glass.

The Italian's mood seemed to shift then and Warren got the idea that he was being scrutinized, He wanted to check the wings, make sure that he wasn't exposed. He kept his cool though, taking a sip from the fresh drink. He was beginning to feel that they knew more about him than he knew of them. It was a little unsettling for the normally in charge playboy. Not that his confidence was in question but he simply wasn't used to being the odd man out. With this trio he certainly got that feeling, "So...why am I here?"

[Alphonse Giordano]

"So...why am I here?"

Alphonse smiled again and joked then slipped into seriousness, "Question asked by many men, why am I here? Did some superior force put me here? Am I a cosmic fluke? Am I to go unnoticed in history, or alter its course completely? Perhaps I am but a puppet of a higher intellect, or maybe I have nothing to live for as this is it...but in this case, Warren, Rand, Vanessa, myself and a superior power invited you here with a proposition. A proposition that no sane man could, or should refuse. Before I let Rand explain the greater details, I tell you something rather important.

Alphonse reached, and took a deep swig from his drink, and savored the taste. Mild beer, but still good nonetheless. When Alphonse spoke again, his tone was much quieter, and much more serious.

"Warren, in my opinion, everyone has a unique gift. For some, it could be being athletic. Others have a knack for music or art. Then there are those with extremely unique gifts, those with so much potential, that they are noticed by higher powers. We are such people, Warren. Yourself included. No, they aren't showing, but we know what you are hiding...Angel. We aren't going to expose ourselves publicly right now, but you can be certain that your present company all have..."gifts." But, there is something that sets us apart from all of the other "gifted" people in the world. We have potential...we have enough potential, to become so much more. It is because of that, we...were chosen. And most recently, you were chosen....Rand, Vanessa, the floor is being yours."

Alphonse took another drink, but while he held his glass, he slid his hand into just a position, that only Warren, Vanessa, and Rand could see, and he slipped his ring finger through his glass, and out again, before placing it back on the table, and licking the alcohol off of his finger. As he did, he smiled slyly at Warren. This was going to be an interesting night.

[Rand O'Neill]

Rand was unaware of the things going on around him, for he was in a much different place...

The soldier stepped into the large tent, the flap reasserting itself as he moved into the back. A large bowl of water stood on the stand, undisturbed and clean, the washrag draped over the side. Letting his large, bronze sword down to lay across the gilded table, propping his spear against one of the support columns, he began to remove his pitch black, now bloodstained battle armor. The helmet he removed first, setting it to the side as he worked at the leather straps binding the armor to his body. Last came the shin guards, which were tossed to the side along with the rest of the soiled armor.

Making his way over to the large washbasin, he grabbed the rag and dipped it into the water...with a sigh he began to wash the blood and dust from his lean, muscular body. Water trickled down his body as he worked. Moments later, after he was fully satisfied that he was now clean, he grabbed a cotton towel and began to dry himself. With the towel wrapped around his midsection, he began to survey the assortment of food that one of his many servants had left. Grapes, pears, and fruits of all kinds were set in a deep bowl. Meat, still hot from the cook fires sat to the right. Wine was also present at the soldier's dinner table, and he took up the goblet with his free hand as he popped a few grapes into his mouth.

One of the servant's popped her head through the flaps....

"Mr. O'Neill?" said the young woman. Mr. O'Neill? Who was that?

"It's you, you woolheaded moron"

The waitress's voice echoed through his head a thousand times as her voice shook him out of his flashback. He blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly as the room returned to normal. The waitress was standing there, and from the looks of it, she had asked him a question.

"I'm sorry, what?" he replied, feeling the color flood into his face. Bloody flashbacks..., he growled to himself mentally. Warren Worthington had just joined them, and Rand kicked himself for not properly introducing himself and his colleagues.

"I said, can I get you anything else?" the waitress replied.

"Oh, no, that will not be necessary, thank you," he answered. Turning on her heel, she left the four of them alone as she went to her other designated table.

Rand reached a hand out in greeting, "Hello, Mr. Worthington. I believe we have met before, but this is Vanessa Madison and Alphonse Giordano" he said, indicating the pair of them. A warm smile decorated his face, everything was turning out just right...

[Warren Worthington III]

Warren listened as Alphonse answered his question. A small smile graced his features as the speech began with somewhat philosophical musings. He liked the Italian's sense of humor though and would have missed part of what he said if the Angel hadn't been taught to listen intently in social situations. It was more than polite to do so, it was simply smart business. Often deals had been saved at Worthington Industries by key bits of seemingly throw away information gathered in just such situations.

"... Rand, Vanessa, myself and a superior power invited you here with a proposition..."

"A proposition?" Warren asked quietly. He didn't have time to ask what kind though as Famine continued on.

"... A proposition that no sane man could, or should refuse..."

Unfortunately Warren missed part of what was said next as he tried to figure out just what was being offered here. Was there something going on at the Hellfire Club? Something hidden from even prominent members? It wasn't until talk shifted to mutation that Warren was actively involved in the conversation again. He shuffled in his seat, truly uncomfortable now.

He was sure he looked it too, it just wasn't something he was used to dealing with publicly. Sure, he was an X-Man but somehow he was able to believe that that life was completely separate and distinct from his life as Warren Worthington the Third. Besides he didn't know how long he really wanted to stay in Westchester. Some deep part of him was dissatisfied with his life there. Strange, he thought as he listened to Alphonse wrap things up that he was getting an offer now.

Only time would tell if it was something he wanted. He did his best to ignore the way Rand seemed to be coming in and out of reality. Warren was quite sure O'Neill's mind was somewhere else, for at least for part of the last several seconds. He accepted Rand's handshake just the same with a warm smile of his own. Warren turned to the others in turn and said, "Nice to meet you both."

Angel then looked over at the charming Italian and asked him a follow up question, "You mentioned a higher power, Alphonse. I'm not sure that I understand. Do you mean like a Government or some other type of ruling body?"

He had been impressed with the trick when the other mutant placed his finger through his glass. It showed style, with his secret out, Worthington shifted in his seat again. It was almost as if the wings were aware of the fact that they were no longer secret. Inside the harness they flexed slightly in an effort to avoid going numb. They always did if they stayed strapped down too long. His thoughts however were still running along the lines that these three must be spies of some kind. It was an honor really to be singled out by the Government, he wondered what the US needed him to do. He was well prepared for people to ask him for donations as well, maybe this had to do with money. In any case, Worthington wanted to hear what they had to say, "If this has to do with some top secret project and you need a little cash, well, I'm sure we can work something out. I'd like to count you as a friend, Rand. And, well, the Italian has made me smile with his quick wit more than I have in a long while."

He was careful to only offer Vanessa a nod. He'd been warned about her and he was still testing the waters with her. He wasn't sure if she was a fan or not., not that he went looking for them. But it was rare that a woman didn't react to him positively. He sighed as he glanced around the table confident that he had figured all of this out. Money he could do, easily, "That said. I'm always willing to help my friends."