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A Noble Black Knight and Hair of Gold; [Rosie, Open to all HFC]
Topic Started: Jun 21 2008, 03:26 AM (632 Views)
Rosie
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Time of Day: Around one in the morning.
Place in Time-Line: Directly after Rosie got a basket from Box in "Seeking a Basket".


When Rosie opened her eyes, disoriented from the teleportation that Wanda had used to move her, it took a long moment to remember just where she was. She stood just inside the massive front entrance of the Hellfire Club, dripping rainwater on the marble tiles, wondering just where to find what she'd been charged with finding.

There were people here, so many that the little girl found herself shrinking away. Most of them were dressed in black and white, something that Rosie might have found odd had she not still been dressed in her pajamas as well. Why did they have masks on? It didn't matter. She was on a quest that may or may not have been magical, and anything that happened was in Rosie's mind just another happening.

A black knight. Where could she get that? Rosie's imagination came up with images of a noble man in a suit of armor, riding a grand horse, and it seemed as though this might be the perfect place to get one. This place, illuminated by chandeliers and candles alike, seemed just magical enough to be the origins of such a knight.

And there was another item she had to get here, but that could wait until after the knight.

"Hello?" She called timidly, stepping forward. This time there would be no Ilsa to help her or guide her into this challenge, and though Rosie had told herself to be brave she was still shaking in her pajamas. Her fingers tightened around the handle of the hastily-constructed basket that Box had made her, glad for the presence of something vaguely comforting, as she looked about the room and the crowd.

"I'm lookin' for a knight!" Rosie called, this time louder. Her little voice echoed very slightly along the entrance hall. "A...a black knight!" Maybe someone would know what she was talking about, and would know where to find one. Amongst these fine people, there had to be one. There just had to be.
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Longshot
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Longshot did not drink to excess, though he did enjoy mixed drinks with lots of colors and flavors to them, and so the bartenders in the Pleasure Club knew when the youthful member of the court was in attendance that they would be called upon to be creative. He was, as was his wont, attended to by an entourage of pawns, female and male, who wore their black masks on their faces, and evidence of his attentions on their bodies, eager to do what he said, when he said it, so they might be rewarded with more of what he was so skillful in giving.

As was his habit, especially since coming here, the pretty young clone was dressed to the nines, in skin tight black jeans, and a white form fitting t-shirt, with a black knight piece sewn onto it. He wore a leather bracelet on one slender arm, and his long blond hair was pulled back in a black satin ribbon. He sat in one of the side booths, his head in the lap of one of his pawns, his bare feet up on the lap of another. He was telling them stories of things that may or may not have happened to him.

"I'm lookin' for a knight!" Rosie called, this time louder. Her voice echoed along the entrance hall. "A...a black knight!"

Longshot sat up and was surprised to see a small child standing there, calling for the Black Knight.

Well, wasn't that what he was?

Padding through the crowd, his pawns behind him, he crouched before the child and said, sweetly, "You asked and I came. I'm Longshot, the Black Knight of the Hellfire Club." He offered a three fingered hand to the tiny thing. "What can I do for you?"
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Rawson
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Believe it or not Rawson had a life outside of the hellfire club. He could only take so much sex, drugs, and extravagance before he eventually became bored with it and retreated to his other life. He wasn't especially famous, occasionally being mentioned in a article of up and coming investors under thirty or on a frivolous list like the fifty hottest faces on Wall street in some silly article. But people didn't stop him on the street or snap pictures of him with their camera phones, which he was fine with. The less his face was publicized the happier he was. Since he didn't have any sort of disguise other than his scar it wouldn't be terribly hard for someone who encountered him in his less reputable form who knew him from the business world to make the connection.

Still, he did well for himself, even without the very generous salary the hellfire club provided. But that stipend had allowed him to build his own fortunes on the stock market. Without risk of losing his life savings Rawson found the stocks an interesting diversion, not to mention a good explanation for the decadence he lived in even outside the hellfire club. He wasn't incredibly rich but he had a little shy of seventy million that the government knew about. To keep up the life of a self made debonair socialite Rawson would occasionally make public appearances and wine and dine some lucky debutante.

It was from one of these social obligations Rawson was returning from. He'd been away from the club for a few days and was begging to long for the pleasures the pleasure club was named for. His fingers tapped on his knees and one foot tapped erratically as he began growing anxious to get inside the Hellfire club building. Going for days without any mind altering substance was begging to take its toll on his mind and body. Rawson never really noticed his addiction to the numerous controlled substances he was able to procure from the club until he went without them. Luckily the withdrawal wasn't as severe do to how quickly his body processed the drugs as it was in most people but it was enough to give him the jitters. When the car eventually stopped, pulling up to the curb next to the club Rawson didn't hesitate to quickly exit the vehicle, walking quicker than normal into the large building.

Having walked into the building hundreds of times Rawson didn't bother to look around or investigate his surrounds. But the angelic assassin and his throng of followers weren't exactly low key. Rawson grabbed a pawn walking near him and whispered something in her ear before moving on to greet the knight. He didn't look behind to see if the pawn was following his orders, he took it for granted that she would. As Rawson neared the clone he noticed that he was talking to a a small girl. Interesting. And rather alarming. Rawson's temper flared thinking of the fool had brought a young girl to the club. While he certainly was no supporter of censorship what the girl would see here if she continued into the club would most likely confuse her at best. But perhaps there was a more logical explanation than poor parenting. Only one way to find out.

"Make a new friend Longshot?" Rawson asked as he steeped up next to the couple.
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Rosie
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Standing there in her footie pajamas, Rosie was beginning to feel out of place. Though she was fairly sure that all of this was a fairy tale created by Wanda, the fact that all those around her were dressed to the nines (and not in Barbie pajamas like she was) was just a little disconcerting.

However, the approach of a rather dapper man (not that Rosie even knew the meaning of the word) made all of these insecurities fly out the window. Most of them, anyway. Just a little startled that someone had responded so quickly, the little girl dropped a quick, clumsy curtsy like the ones she had seen on television, and looked up at him pleadingly.

"You're a black knight?" Rosie repeated, eyes trailing to the pawns that had followed him before focusing on Longshot again. Hesitantly she took his hand, relieved in the fact that he was being friendly, and held out the basket. "I need a knight for my basket."

Even if this man was a black knight, how was she supposed to get him back to X-Factor Headquarters, let alone fit him into her basket? The thought was quite confusing, but Rosie did not ponder it any longer as another young man showed up. This one didn't seem as genteel as Longshot, but nevertheless Rosie dropped another clumsy curtsy, nearly falling over.

Speaking of manners...the little girl blushed hard, remembering her manners as her mother had taught them to her. "I-I'm Rose Grey-Summers." Rosie said carefully, as though reciting the information. "An'...an' I'm lookin' for a black knight, because I need their...its...help." She stumbled on the words and finally fell silent, the hand holding her basket limp at her side.

"Um...please?" Now she looked not only to Longshot and Rawsome, but to those all around. Anyone's help would be most appreciated.
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Longshot
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"Make a new friend Longshot?" Rawson asked as he stepped up next to the couple.

Longshot looked up at Rawson, still holding the little girl's hand in his oddly shaped one, "Yes, my Bishop. She came into the Club yelling that she needed the Black Knight. Why little girls would come looking for nasty little boys like me, I don't know," he said, cheerfully. "She is a pretty little thing though, maybe if this was a different place and I was a different man I would like to keep her for my own." The star twinkled in his eye, and he said, playfully to the child, "We'd have a lot of fun, eating candy for breakfast and staying up way past bedtime, even if you still haven't told me your name."

"I-I'm Rose Grey-Summers." Rosie said carefully, as though reciting the information. "An'...an' I'm lookin' for a black knight, because I need their...its...help."

The clone's smile faded as he heard the unusual hyphenated last name, "Good God, Grey-Summers?" He straightened and looked at Rawson, "My Bishop, can I talk to you for a moment? Pawns, why don't one of you get the little one something to drink... a Roy Rogers or a Shirley Temple." He cupped the child's cheek in his hand, and a dim part of his mind recognized that chronologically, he and the little girl were probably the same age. How odd to think of that.

Beckoning the Bishop away, Longshot said, quietly, "Rawson, sir, this girl, she's the daughter of the leaders of the X-Men. I don't know how she got here, but I was with them for a long time in their holding cells. I know her name. She could be a valuable prize... or a serious threat to us."
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Rawson
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Rawson couldn't help but smile thinking of Longshot as a father. Taking his child to play dates, cooking dinner, complaining about his offspring's grade, grounding them. It was just too ridiculous. Come to think of it no one in the hellfire club seemed destined to be a parent. Spirit was incorporable, so unless she met some ghost man she probably wouldn't be pumping out any babies anytime soon. Mystique most likely ate her young. Either that or hatched them. Emma would probably think of a child as competition for attention and "accidentally" leave it in a bathtub. Forge would probably figure out a way to build a better baby, throwing the old one out as obsolete. Max would probably be the only half decent father. In fact with his determination and shady morals he might even be a good parent. Woe be it to the boy who treats his daughter poorly tough.

But Longshot would treat the child as a peer and maybe enjoy dress up and box forts more than the kid would. Which might be entertaining to watch but eventually the kid would grow up and Longshot wouldn't. Not to mention the fact that the child would probably be weirded out about his pops killing people for a living.

The grin on Rawson's face only widened with the little girls clumsy curtsy. For once it wasn't a wicked grin, a malicious sneer, or a sarcastic smirk but a genuine smile. Rawson returned her formal gesture with his own, bowing deeply to the girl. The least he could do was be polite. But the question of the girls purpose at the club was still unanswered. It seemed that Longshot didn't know her, but there was always a chance he had abducted her to talk to someone his own age.

His previously good natured grin widened again as the young lady spoke again. It seemed everything she said was entertaining. Rawson knew all about the nuptials between Jean Grey and Scott Summers and about their appearances in court trying to become the legal guardians of a one a girl with the same name as Rosie. He also knew the resolution of that court case. This time the grin wasn't especially as pure as it had been previously. The gears in his mind turned at breakneck speed as he thought of how to best exploit the strange turn of events.

"We'll help you in a second, we just need to have a grown up talk" He said to Rosie as he walked off with Longshot. "I'm well aware of the situation my friend" Rawson said in a quiet voice " But if we do something to her what Jean did to you at the brotherhood will seem like a vacation compared to what she would do to you then. Not to mention X-factor is most likely still out for my blood. I'm sure we could take them but then there would be question and complications. But I'm not ready to let this situation pass us by. Forge has made tracking devices that are virtually untraceable and can last for years. If we know where this girl always is we can use that against the X-men should they get all uppity. Trust me, pompous heroes love kids. What do you say?"
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Rosie
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Longshot's reaction to her name made Rosie tilt her head, puzzled, and she willingly let go of his hand -- his awesome mutant hand. She found herself admiring it, wondering if there were other mutants around here. Maybe Rawson was one as well. Definitely something to think about.

At least they were treating her like a lady, like on television. Rosie found her back straightening proudly as a lady with black hair and a matching mask led her away towards the bar, with other people -- why were they called pawns? she wondered -- staring after her. She felt something like a princess in this grand place, being served a drink in a fancy crystal cup that shimmered in the light as she sipped.

And candy for breakfast? Who would pass that up? Rosie licked her lips. Maybe she could have a lollipop, or even -- dare she even think it? -- Oreos.

No. Rosie shook her head quickly, the ice in her glass clinking softly against the sides. She was here to help her mama and papa get better, and when they got better they would give her candy. Satisfied with this knowledge, the little girl sipped again at her drink, wondering just what that woman was doing to the man on the barstool. He looked like he was having a good time, with the woman's hands in his hair and all.

Hair. Rosie started, remembering her next task, and guiltily she looked around for her basket. She had to get a lock of golden hair -- after she got a noble black knight of course. Sighing, the little girl stood on tiptoe so that she could deposit her drink back on the bar, and looked towards the two nice men. Whatever they were talking about, they looked pretty serious about it.
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Longshot
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Longshot's blue eyes went dark at the mention of what the Phoenix had done to him and his shiny veneer slipped. His look was suddenly that of what he had once been, the cold and merciless killer who had taken such delight in his work, and had willingly given entertainment to his master, before his free will surfaced and he decided that he would govern himself. There was no threat to Rawson, but there was the hint of malice around him like a storm cloud passing in sight to rain blood on a nearby innocent. "I don't like to think of such things, Rawson." he said, and using his name and not his title was something different for the young clone.

But then, like that self said storm cloud passed and the monster he truly was was again hidden behind the pretty boy he wanted to be. A broken toy was the little Longshot and that made him all the more dangerous, though not to his bishop, never to his bishop. "Do you really think the White King will have something like that? Well, what am I saying? Of course he will. He's the White King." He pulled one of the Pawns aside and whispered their request. The black masked man nodded and hurried off.

Clapping his hands together, Longshot beamed at Rawson and said, "I'll see to our guest then?" Practically skipping on his bare feet, which had the prerequisite number of toes unlike his hands, he crossed the room and took a seat next to the precious Rosie Grey-Summers. "So, now, you need a knight, what for?"
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Rawson
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Longshot's change in appearance worried Rawson. It didn't have anything to do with him being worried about Longshot's fragile psyche becuase frankly he wasn't. The clone seemed composed enough most of the time and that was really what was important. If he snapped during a mission that would be another mater entirely but as long as the demons stayed inside Longshot's mind Rawson didn't have a problem. He wasn't especially worried about Longshot potentially regressing into the mindless automaton he once was. If it happened it happened, not something for Rawson to worry himself over. Besides, he might be all the more efficient at his job, although admittedly Rawson might miss his entertaining personality. He wasn't even worried about his personal safety, Longshot might be fast, really really fast even but he wasn't faster than bullets. Rawson's nuclear ability was. If he tried to pull something Rawson would give him an atomic slap on the wrist and a stern talking to, but he would be fine.

What he was worried about was Longshot doing something rash in front of little Rosie Grey-Summers and scaring her away. But luckily Longshot was no fool and the only thing he gave away was the aversion he held for his past. Which was fair enough, being used as a tool for a madman wasn't exactly a fun job as Rawson knew from experience. Of course Rawson was only under mental influence for a month or so, Longshot was brought up and conditioned by the raving mad Mojo. Apples and Oranges really.

"Understood Longshot" Although his pride might have objected to being told what he should and should not talk about the strategic part of his mind thought only of the much much larger prize. Besides, it didn't hurt him to be nice once in a while. Well it didn't hurt him a lot anyways. "Oh I've seen them in use before my fine four fingered friend. For all I know we probably have one inside us right now so the king can keep tabs on us." Which was a disturbing thought, the last thing Rawson wanted was Max popping up while Rawson was out conquesting. Most nice girls don't take well to men clad in black jumping out of shadows and ruining the mood.

Rawson followed Longshot back to the young girl, feeling more than a little like the big bad wolf stalking the little girl in the forest for the kill. But Rawson had no intention of even harming the girl, but how to get the tracker in her without drawing blood would be difficult. But not impossible. They just had to be creative. Rawson had forgotten about the girl's errand until Longshot brought it up again. Curious. Perhaps she was sent in under some silly pretense of a scavenger hunt and was actually actively gathering information. But using children to do their work seemed below the X-men. Call them what you will but the X-men were certainly moral. Luckily for Rawson, the hellfire club was not.

"We might not be able to help you if you don't tell us what it's for. We can't just give away our knights." Rawson did his best to look saddened at the possibility of not being able to help the girl and friendly all at the same time. Fortunately his best put most actors to shame.
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Rosie
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Almost as soon as she had wondered what the men were talking of, Longshot was sitting down beside her, and Rosie grinned at him. The drink in her hand was very good, and after a moment's thought she tapped the bar counter a little nervously like she had seen on the television -- before someone switched channels, that was.

Really, Rosie needed to stop watching so much TV.

"Um...can he have a drink too? Please?" After all, Rosie didn't want him to feel left out, and her drink was so good. As the barkeep passed him one, she took a sip of her own, watching as Rawson took a seat on her other side.

"My mama 'n' papa are sick." She informed them by way of explanation, unable to keep the twinge of sadness and homesickness out of her voice. "And m' friend said she could help wit' her magic, so I'm lookin' for things she needs. Like a black knight, and gold hair, an' junk like that."

Just saying it made it all sound like a silly game, and Rosie frowned, wondering if they were just playing along with her. "But it's true." She burst; several glasses rattled, and guiltily she remembered that she had left her bracelet back at X-Factor headquarters. "They...they need my help. Please!"

She tugged on Longshot's shirt, pleading, mismatched eyes turning first to him and then to Rawson. "I'll give 'im back, I just...I'm scared..." And there was no way she was leaving without a black knight and a lock of golden hair. No way whatsoever.
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Longshot
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The bartender passed Longshot a drink on Rosie's orders, and the strange little clone was delighted by the oddness of the event. Something bright, colorful and highly alcoholic ordered by something tiny, young and oh so out of place. He sipped his drink and listened to the little one desperately tell them of her parents' illness and this cure to save them. What sort of fairy tale was this?

An interesting one to be certain.

Longshot bore no real ill will for Cyclops, though his wife scared the hell out of him. The thought that she might be ill... and how was she ill that magic could save her? Was this a spell that needed to be broken by a kiss? Was it a curse that needed to be lifted? Very interesting indeed and had the cloned artist been less inclined to cut than to cure, he might have wanted to lend his luck to the quest, just so that he could see what the story was that was unfolding here.

She wrapped her hands in his white silk t-shirt and in her distress, something passed from her, ratting the glasses in the bar. Longshot looked up at Rawson and met his eyes. So, this was no helpless innocent. She was a mutant yes, why things grew more and more interesting. He was so excited by this particular turn of events, because he had never known mutants were grown naturally so young. He was most likely about her own age, chronologically, but his case was different, very different.

He turned his gaze back to the child and he smiled, sweetly, such a pretty man. He untangled her tiny hands, and held them tightly, "And so we'll help you, little one. There's no reason to be scared. Kindly Uncle Rawson and I'll help you find the knight you're looking for." He was the Black Knight, but that wasn't the sort of knight she needed. He would not be some ingredient in a magical spell.

But there was something to be done. Rawson had a plan to tag the girl like a stray dog. How would that work? It seemed that Longshot would be the distraction then. This was alright with him. He was good at distraction.
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Rawson
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So all was not well at the institute apparently. What ever sickness the Grey-Summer's had could prove to be a important bit of intel, but unless it was something simple like the measles or a broken bone Rawson doubted Rosie would really understand it, much less explain it. And since magic is apparently needed to heal the two of them Rawson assumed that the ailment was a little more pressing that your common cold. If only Rosie were a few years older. Or was super intelligent. But unfortunately she was neither of those things so all Rawson could do was keep listening and gently pushing Rosie to reveal more information about her parent's condition. Like taking candy form a baby. Or really information from a toddler.

Then of course the question of the whole magic situation was brought up. There of course was a chance it was simply someones attempt at giving the little girl something to do and making her feel important while her parents were ill. But there was also a chance it was actually magic. Not real magic of course, Rawson wasn't foolish enough to think it existed, but most likely the gifts of a certain mutant which mimic the effects of "magic" from folklore. In fact those myths probably were based in the abilities of real mutants in the past. The questgiver might even be a descendant of one such false witch, explaining the similar powers and perhaps strengthening their belief in the magic ability of their gifts. And the first highly delusioned mutant with magic like powers who knew Rosie Rawson could think of was the Scarlet Witch.

But the Maximoff girl was at X-factor, they seemed to take all sorts. Even the crazy ones. Especially the crazy ones. At least that was the last information Rawson had received on the Maximoff girl from his sources, and they were seldom wrong. Besides, she seemed to generally stick with her brother, who also should be at X-factor. Which would imply Rosie had been to X-factor. Maybe a visit to uncle Alex while Mom and Dad were sick to cheer the little girl up. Or maybe what ever they had was contagious and they had to evacuate the institute. That might explain the new faces of a few young mutants in Mutant town.

But the radioactive mutant's train of thought was derailed by the apparent psychic tantrum of the little girl. So that's what she could do. Taking after her adopted mother apparently. Development at such a young age was impressive, especially coming from non-mutant parents. But her young expression must of been the reason she ended up at the institute in the first place. Maybe in a few years the girl would be a force to be reckoned with, although early expression didn't equate to power as the abilities matured. Rawson had been on the late blooming side of mutant abilities but he certainly wasn't disappointed with the control he had over his abilities. But extra time meant extra practice, and if the girl could already move objects at four by eight she could rival some minor adult telepaths.

Kindly Uncle Rawson nodded in agreement with Longshot while his eyes watched the crowd, looking for the pawn who he sent to get the tracking device. He may not have figured out how to get it inside Rosie at the moment but he would before she left. Hopefully an opportunity would present itself while the three of them went of searching for knights and hair. Where they hoped to find either Rawson didn't know, although a rather entertaining idea about where to find the hair was developing in his mind.
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Rosie
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Sniffing, Rosie stared up into Longshot's face, searching for any hint of treachery or deceit, but she could find none. Her little hands trembled in his, not entirely understanding the look that passed between the two men.

Nodding silently, Rosie slid down off the bar stool, reaching for the hands of both Rawson and Longshot. It wseemed that they were going to help, and the little girl took a deep, calming breath. She wouldn't lose her mama or papa, not when she had people like this helping her. She refused to lose them.

"W-what other knight's 'round?" The four-year-old asked, peering up into their faces. There was something going on that she couldn't put her finger on, something that made Rosie just a little bit uncomfortable in this grand room, but she would put up with anything to help her parents. She yawned hugely then, geting an idea of just how late it was as her eyelids drooped, but it wasn't time to sleep. Not yet.

As Rosie fought against her exhaustion, a red-headed woman bearing a small package approached them, her face smooth beyond her mask.

"My knight." She said, bowing very slightly and extending the packaage. "The object you requested."

Rosie turned her gaze onto the woman very briefly, but she turned and padded a few feet away, peering around for something that could be counted as a noble black knight.
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Longshot
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Longshot took the package and handed it to Rawson, as the little girl looked around, nervously, sadly, "We already know something strange is happening. My Alix has hidden with us as my guest for sometime, but she hasn't told me why. Now this child comes with tales of her ill parents? Even I don't believe in co-incidences, but I do believe that luck has brought her here. There's weaknesses to exploit, and you know as well as I do, that for men like us, the weaknesses of the strong are precious diamonds."

He tapped one of his long, elegant fingers on the package that the Pawn had delivered, "This's a good idea, my Bishop. You should figure out a way to get this tracker into the child. My ideas all involve blood." Smiling charmingly, he spun away on the tips of his bare toes to turn to Rosie with a flourish.

"Don't you fret, little one, I am going to help you find another black knight, since I don't think I'd fit in your little basket." He took it from her and put it on his head like a hat. "Hmmmm, I do look rather dashing, don't I?"

Offering her his hand, he turned to the Pawns who watched him curiously, their expressions hidden behind their masks. He smiled and they all nodded their heads, realizing that their Black Knight was not entirely sane, but was a generous and playful man to befriend. They didn't want to anger him, and they had to admit, he was entertaining. "Pawns, we need a knight. Our little guest needs one to save her parents. Does anyone have any suggestions?"
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Rawson
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Rawson's eyes lit up as one of club's many faceless pawns passed off a package to Longshot. There was a small chance that what ever was in the box was not the tracker that Rawson was hoping for. Knowing Longshot there could have been any number of strange and exotic items within the box. Or it could even be a mundane item that the clone felt should receive significant presentation. Really it could have been anything the Knight fancied. The black bishop didn't have a clue as to what Longshot had been doing before his arrival and perhaps it required some small object. Maybe he had been playing darts and wanted his lucky dart. But hopefully the box contained something a little more useful than that.

When the package was handed to Longshot and when he in turned handed it to Rawson his suspicions about the cargo were confirmed, luckily enough. He would have been in a rather foul mood if he had still been waiting for the tag. Who, or what, ever had whisked the little girl off to the club might eventually come to their senses about delivering the girl into the nest of some of the most sly and dangerous mutants on the planet. Although for all the supposed cunning of the club Rawson still wasn't sure how to get the small tracker into the girl. Max might have been able to teleport it in and Emma could possibly have used some sort of mental trick to make the girl ignore the little pain for a few seconds. Even Mystique might have found a way to trick the poor girl. But Rawson's powers didn't grant him any real subtle ability. Sure the flash and bang was great most of the time but how he could use it to stick a incredibly small and delicate device into a small telepath was beyond Rawson.

He had figured that the whole problem was the fact that the girl would notice because of the pain. Eliminate the pain and she would be none the wiser. There wouldn't be any blood or lasting discomfort, just a little pinch and it was all over. So Rawson began to wonder how to make the girl feel nothing in a centralized location. If all her body went numb she would notice something was up. Some sort of drug would be able to numb her, but administering it would bring up more questions. Undoubtedly there was some sort of way to numb a part of the body with a well applied touch, perhaps to a pressure point, but again that was too obvious and Rawson didn't know a thing about it.

As the little girl did some more pleading or something of that nature and Longshot tossed the basket upon his head the idea came to Rawson. Since he was normally on the front lines defending the rest of the club he often received injuries. Of course the hellfire club had beyond state of the art medical care and he always came out felling fine. One of the things that helped make the experience as easy as possible was a young man, a pawn, who could numb pain. Of course he could do other things with that power but all Rawson knew or cared about at the moment was his gift with pain. So with a few words to one of the many pawns standing about the word was sent to bring the boy down to lobby. Rawson then rejoined the pair, giving a broad grin to his compatriot.
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