HELLIONS v2

Written by Kostmeyer
Created by Pharoah

ISSUE 15
"Hidden Depths"

This story features HELLIONS and related characters, which are characters of Pharoah.
The X-men, and the Hellfire Club are trademarks of Marvel comics. This is an unauthorized work and no profit is being made on this work.
This work is © Kostmeyer 2007. Please do not archive without permission of creator.

FOR NEW READERS...

The Hellions have been dispatched to bring in Isabella Amari, an arms dealer attempting to sell Sentinel robots stolen from the Hellfire Club. During a battle with Amari's bodyguards, Lamprey and Minotaur have been suddenly attacked by a group of Atlantean soldiers, and taken prisoner.


Without a moment's hesitation, Gillian DaCosta - Teryn - threw herself over the rail of Amari's yacht, plunging into the water after the Atlantean craft. She surfaced, gasping with shock. The North Atlantic water was bitterly cold, cutting through her uniform despite its insulation. A loud splash beside her told her that Damien Morgan - Touch - had followed her over the rail. Fighting against the urge to surrender to the cold she kicked out against the side of the yacht and propelled herself to the younger Hellion's side.

"Quickly!" she said, grabbing his jacket. "Like we practiced!" Damien's teeth were chattering too much for him to reply, but he nodded. Together, the Hellions dived.

Beneath the water, Damien reached out with his mutant power of tactile telekinesis, forcing back the chill water until an undulating sphere had formed around them, an air pocket sustained by his psychic power.

"OK." Teryn ordered. "Take us down!"

The sphere descended rapidly, but there was no sign of the submarine vessel and very soon the two Hellions realised that their search was futile.

"It's no good!" Touch said, despondently. "We'll never find them down here, it's too dark to see anything! They're probably miles away by now anyway."

Gillian screamed with frustration.

As Touch directed the air bubble back towards the surface, the Atlantean warship carrying the unconscious Minotaur and Lamprey, sped away from the shallow coastal waters, always descending, deeper and deeper into the abyss.

* * *

Cassandra Morrel, the Hellions mentor, was waiting for them on the yacht as Damien's air bubble broke the surface. The Hellfire Club shuttlecraft was hanging obediently above them on automatic pilot, the force of its powerful engines sending up clouds of steam from the rain soaked deck. To the two shivering Hellions, the rolling currents of warm air were very welcome.

"Well?" Morrel demanded sternly. The quills that covered her body rattling in the wind. "What went wrong?"

"Don't try to pin this on us!" Gillian snapped. "Maybe if we'd been told that we'd have to chase an Atlantean warship we'd have been prepared to follow them!"

"You should be prepared for anything." Quill responded. "But now isn't the time to argue about blame. Our first priority is to complete our mission. Damien, shackle Amari and get her on board the shuttle. Gillian, search the hold for the stolen sentinels."

"What about..."

"Just do it!" Morrel shouted, her spines rising ominously. The two Hellions raced away to complete their tasks, leaving Quill staring into the dark waters.

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly. The first thing that Lamprey was aware of was the dull, throbbing pain in her back. She remembered being shot from behind - but before that...a face... blue skinned, like her own! She opened her eyes.

She was lying on the floor of a small room, its metal walls completely featureless save for two rounded, porthole like doors facing each other from opposite sides of the chamber. She sat up, with difficulty - her body ached from the after effects of the electric shock, but at least she didn't appear to be injured: the blast that had struck her had clearly been intended to stun, not to kill. Minotaur was lying on the floor beside her, not moving, his huge body wrapped in heavy chains.

"Scotty!"

"Don't be alarmed. Your friend is alive." One door had opened noiselessly and the blue-skinned man she had seen earlier was looking in. He had discarded the robe that he had been wearing on the deck of the yacht and his armour could be clearly seen, ornately decorated with golden nautilus shell patterns. He was clearly an Atlantean, as she had suspected - able to breathe in the air filled chamber because of the breathing apparatus which pumped sea water around his suit.

"If you've hurt him, I swear I'll kill you!" Lamprey snarled.

"Please." The Atlantean raised his hands to placate her and show he was unarmed. "If we had wanted to kill either of you we could have done so by now. This isn't a cell, you know - it's the outermost water-lock - the only place in the ship where your friend can breathe."

"We're in a submarine?" Lamprey asked.

The Atlantean nodded. "The door behind you leads to the open sea. But of course, escape is impossible. If you attempt to get out the water will flood in and drown your friend. Now, come with me, I have something to show you." Lamprey looked towards the still form of the Minotaur. "He couldn't follow us anyway. Don't worry. You have my word he will be fine."

Lamprey stood for a moment, weighing up her options. Then she nodded. The Atlantean stood aside and indicated for her to step through the portal. The Hellion complied, and the Atlantean pulled the heavy door closed behind them.

Immediately, water began to bubble up through a grating in the floor. Lamprey flinched.

"Don't worry." The Atlantean reassured her. "The rest of the ship is full of water - this will let us onto the main deck."

The water continued to rush into the chamber, filling it to the roof in seconds. As Lamprey floated beside the Atlantean, the armoured man reached up and disconnected the bulky diving helmet, smiling with obvious pleasure as he tugged it loose. "That's better!" he said. "How you can bear to live on the surface for so long is beyond me."

Now that she could see him properly, Lamprey studied her captor intently. He was very old, his blue skin lined and wrinkled. He had a long beard and flowing white hair, thinning with age, that drifted in the slow eddies that their every movement created in the water. She tried to speak to him, but only managed to blow a trail of bubbles. The old man smiled.

"Not tried to speak underwater before, have you?" he said. "Try to talk in short syllables, and raise your voice to a higher pitch - it will carry further. Think of the noise a dolphin makes and you won't go far wrong. Your vocal chords aren't like those of a surface dweller. As you haven't used them like this before it'll take some practise, but all of our people can do it."

"Not... 'Lanteen!" Lamprey managed.

"Not bad!" the Atlantean laughed, but not unkindly. "A good first attempt. And I know what you're thinking. Yes, there are differences. You can breath the air of the surface world, and we cannot. Also Atlanteans don't have those arm-fins you have, or webbed fingers and toes..."

"Myoo...tahnt!" Lamprey said, awkwardly. "Moor-lock!"

"Time for stories later." The old man said, grasping the door handle and heaving it open. "First, let me show you something."

As the door opened, the currents within the water-filled ship swept them gently forward, and Lamprey allowed herself to be drawn out of the water-lock steadying herself with subtle movements of her webbed hands.

She found herself floating on a much larger room, where other Atlanteans operated the vessel's controls. The technology was completely alien to her but it was the viewscreen that immediately attracted her full attention - a huge sheet of some clear substance - it seemed impossibly thin to resist the incredible pressures outside the craft - the great window dominated the entire front section of the room. Outside, illuminated by the phosphorescent glow of the warships deeplights, shoals of glittering fish shimmered and sparkled, keeping pace with the craft.

The vessel sank beneath the shoals and beneath them a towering rock formation, swathed in clinging sea grasses and long tangled strands of kelp, could be made out on the periphery of the light. As they got closer, Lamprey realised that it was a man-made column of carved marble, not a natural formation at all but the remnants of some long forgotten monument.

The warship drifted lower. Lamprey realised that she was leaning forwards, trying to get a better view. Suddenly a black shadow fell across the marble, and she realised that a long, sinewy tentacle was reaching out from a cavern at the base of the ruined pillar.

"The Guardian is aware of us." One of the crew reported. "Sending the signal." He touched a button and a long, plaintive note, generated in the nose of the ship, sounded through the water. Lamprey felt the entire ship vibrate. The hideous arm, slowly, (reluctantly?) withdrew back into its lair.

"What... wss... that?" the Hellion asked. She didn't get an answer. One of the Atlantean soldiers, his armour more elaborate than the other guards, was confronting her original companion.

"You shouldn't have brought her here Vizier! Your safety is my responsibility!"

"You worry too much, Thakor." The old man replied. "Besides, how could I deny myself the opportunity of being here when our guest first sees our destination." he swept his arm around in a broad flamboyant gesture and indicated once more towards the screen. Lamprey gasped in astonishment.

The first rays of the dawn, far, far above them, penetrated even here, shafts of green light falling across a scene that she would never forget. A vast city, the greatest metropolis of the ancient world, stretched out beneath them. A vision of towering vaulted ceilings and colonnaded streets, statues and monuments, marble and porphyry, the craft of a people long since lost in the shadows of a prehistoric cataclysm. And in this ruined masterpiece, new occupants had made their home, the blue skinned homo-mermanus - who repaired and rebuilt the fallen buildings, cultivated gardens of anemones and sea grasses, tamed the fishes and sea turtles, turning the sunken, silent city into a vibrant world of light and life.

"My name is Vashti, son of Vashti." The Vizier said, proudly. "It has been my duty and my privilege to serve the house of Namor all my life. And now, I welcome you to Atlantis!"

* * *

The Hellion's shuttlecraft circled above the Massachusetts Academy as the sun rose above the tree tops. Quill expertly guided the craft down, and it taxied to a final halt in the Academy's subterranean hanger. Krystil Frost, the White Queen, emerged from the nearby elevator, and, flanked by a troop of black uniformed Hellfire Guards, hurried across the hanger to meet them.

Quill was already running down the access ramp, shouting instructions to the tech-crew. "Refuel and rearm immediately!" she ordered. Then she caught sight of the White Queen. "Krys! How soon can we get the submersible loaded? We have to-!"

"Not so fast." Frost interrupted, holding up her hand. "Poor intelligence got us into this mess in the first place. I'm not going to risk another operation until I know precisely what we're dealing with. Do you have the prisoner?"

Morrel indicated over her shoulder as, on cue, Teryn and Touch emerged, dragging the manacled arms dealer between them.

"Well done." Frost said. With a gesture, she ordered the guards to take custody of Isabella Amari. "I'll begin the interrogation straight away. We need to learn what the connection is between the Atlanteans and the stolen Sentinels."

"What Sentinels?" Amari protested, as the guards led her towards the elevator. "I keep telling you! I don't know anything abou-!"

Before she could finish, Frost lashed out, smashing her fist into the other woman's face.

"You'll speak when you're spoken to, thief, and not before - is that understood?"

Amari looked up at the White Queen, blood streaming from her nose. She nodded, and the guards led her away.

"I want to be in on the interrogation." Gillian said, at Frost's shoulder. "I know her - I can help!"

"I'll bet." Frost scowled. "No, you're dismissed, Hellions. Get some rest. You need to be ready to move out the instant I learn anything. Is that clear?"

"Yes Miss Frost." Damien responded. Gillian said nothing.

The Hellions filed out of the room, heads bowed. Frost was about to join Amari and her escort in the elevator when a noise made her stop and turn. It was Quill. With the Hellions gone, her veneer of control had cracked. Tears were running down her face, dripping from the ends of the quills that rimmed her face.

"First Reese, then Paris... now Scotty and Lamprey..."

"They're not dead, Cassie. We'll get them back. I promise." Krystil said. "I promise."

* * *

Damien Morgan pushed open the door to his room and threw himself down on the bed. He hadn't realised, until now, just how exhausted he was. He needed to sleep - but how could he when his friends were in danger? He had to do something - but what? He wasn't up to this on his own - he needed it... he really needed it...

Zen.

There was a tiny, glass capsule on the desk, right in front of him. A familiar glass capsule, filled with a shimmering blue liquid... Zen - the power-enhancing drug that he was addicted to... appearing when he needed it most... just within reach...

Damien sat up and rubbed his eyes with his fists. This was impossible! He'd thrown his last stash of Zen into the sea yesterday... hadn't he? Maybe when it came to the drug he really couldn't trust his own senses. He lowered his hands and cautiously, slowly, opened his eyes. It was no dream... it was still there... he reached out his hand and his fingers, shaking with anticipation, began to close around the glass vial...

"Hey Damien - Did that seem weird to you?" Teryn kicked the door open and marched into the room. Touch snatched the Zen up and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Jesus, Gil - don't you ever knock?"

"You look a mess." Gillian DaCosta said. "You'd better be alright, I need you."

"I'm fine." Damien said. "What do you want?"

Teryn grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. "This way!" she said. "Come on!"

The two Hellions hurried along the corridor, towards the Teryn's room. The door was open and Gillian's computer was on.

"What's all this about?" Damien asked. Without explaining, Gillian shoved him down into a chair. Damien studied the computer screen. "These are the Academy datalogs - the old Oracle files." He said. "How did you get into them?"

"Never mind that." Gillian snapped. "Something about this mission doesn't sit right with me. So as soon as we got back I thought I'd do some digging. I did a system wide search for anything on Sentinels, Amari, and Atlantis. There was nothing I could access in the new system - if there is anything there, it's been too heavily encrypted, like you'd expect. But look - saved on Oracle - the old system from back before the Academy was destroyed last year - these files here." She jabbed a finger towards the screen unnecessarily. "What do you think?"

"It must just be a coincidence!" Damien said. "I mean, why would there be a file about this mission which was saved over a year before Amari stole the Sentinels? And how could anyone in the Hellfire Club have known that the Atlanteans would turn up?"

"Exactly." Teryn said.

"It's a coincidence. It has to be!"

"We won't know unless you can open those files," Teryn smiled, "You little computer genius, you."

Damien shook his head. "There's a logical explanation, you know that." But he had already started to type.

* * *

Krystil Frost raised a glass, filled with softly fizzing champagne. "To the best laid plans." She smiled, reaching out with the glass.

"To the plan!" Isabella Amari returned the toast. "Although I don't remember getting punched in the face as being part of our bargain."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that!" Frost said. "The violence was necessary to convince Cassie and the Hellions that the mission was genuine. And of course I had to shut you up before you gave the game away. I trust that you feel you've been adequately compensated?"

"A million is my favourite number." Amari raised her glass and drained it, still laughing.

A beeping noise interrupted them. With slight irritation, Frost turned to the consol on her desk, where a red light was flashing.

"Excuse me, Isabella, I should take this call." The White Queen pressed a button and the desk holo-projector generated the image of the face of Roberto DaCosta, the Black King.

"Hello Krystil." The King said. "I see that you've decided to initiate the Atlantis Strategem."

"You're very well informed." Krystil smiled over the lip of her champagne glass.

"Oh, don't worry, I have no intention of intervening. If you succeed in this, the Hellfire Club will be infinitely more powerful." DaCosta said. "Just imagine what we could do with the resources of Atlantis at our disposal."

"At MY disposal." Frost said, icily. "This is nothing to do with you, my dear Black King."

"Krystil, Krystil - there's no need to be so formal." DaCosta smiled, a humourless smile that didn't reach his eyes. "As I said, I won't get involved. But, remember, I know the truth. If she were ever to learn what I know, your whole scheme will come crashing down around you." He leaned forwards. "And we wouldn't want that to happen, now, would we? Keep me informed of your progress." He terminated the connection.

Frost hurled her champagne glass against the wall.


TO BE CONTINUED...

Issue 14