Chapter 47: An Ode to Tessa
This was it, the end: falling at terminal velocity with only the fatal impact to cushion her. Dejectedly, Tessa wondered if the landing would hurt. Would suck if it did, kind of like a last “fuck you” before life faded away. Even if she didn’t kill the Professor, she’d killed enough of his dream for her to feel satisfied. That was the purpose of this exercise, wasn’t it? To destroy Xavier’s dream? Years of quiet research, months of planning, a lifetime of connections, and a leap of faith into the supernatural culminated in this last dark symphony.
Mutants would rebel against the United States following this bombing. Because of his grudge, Belasco would hunt every X-Man and X-Men affiliate down. Forever and a day, this false Magneto would remind humans of the dangerous mutants, the ones who’d want them dead at all costs.
Vargas.
Dark Beast.
Belasco.
Fantomex.
Xavier.
Tessa played them like the high school marching band’s bass drum. Ha. Funny how she always thought of this endeavor as a musical task, but it was and she it’s conductor. Now, as her own final curtain closed, she examined her masterpiece and found it passable, passable enough to leave in the hands of time. It had already gone too far to stop.
Too far to stop--the story of her life, those four words.
Years ago between the mountains of Pakistan and Afghanistan, the symphony began with a whimper. A mere girl heard the whimpers of a doomed man, and despite her better judgment, investigated. Buried beneath rock shards was Charles Francis Xavier, mutant, soldier, millionaire, and for a while, father. Unlike the others who’d eventually be called X-Men, Tessa came to Charles with a firm grip on her powers. She didn’t know what she was, but the snowy, rocky no-place she called home sharpened her abilities all the same.
In those cold nights when they ventured toward civilization, he taught her things, things she would’ve never imagined possible. Their classroom consisted of low burning flames and uncomfortable rocks, but in Tessa’s opinion, he did his best teaching then hopped up on giddy enthusiasm and wise melancholy. She already knew much about shielding her thoughts and emotions, so he opened the world of telepathy to her--astral projections, psychic attacks, mental control.
Unknown to the everyone else, Tessa was his first student, the template on which the others would be modeled on. Charles said he’d bring her to America. He said he had a home for her. He said he’d find others like them and help them with their puzzling abilities. He said many things, but he only promised one: to protect her.
Through a series of events, she transferred Charles to a hospital in India. His body might’ve left, but many nights he chatted with her on the astral plane. He talked of his painful rehabilitation and the insurmountable obstacles facing her potential immigration to the United States. He talked about open fields and warm mansions. He talked about his dream, this urge to heal the inevitable wounds that’ll be caused by tension between humans and mutants. He talked and she listened, fascinated at this grand place he spoke of which was devoid of the hunger and fear surrounding her.
The lessons continued even when a band of roving mercenaries captured her, had their way with her, then sold her into a harem. Curious enough, Charles grew distant then. He seemed preoccupied, the biweekly visits degenerating into monthly ones. When he did visit her, Tessa was so starved for a friendly face that she hid her plight from him. She thought if he knew what happened, he’d be disgusted and she’d lose the only person keeping her sane.
Months passed. Using Charles’ axiom, she turned her hellish trial into an educational experience. By the time she killed off the last of her captors, she’d learned how to please and manipulate any man or woman. She learned how to read people without her telepathy. She learned how to exploit the weak and undercut the strong. As her dead mistress sank into the ornate bathtub filled with water and blood, Tessa swore to never be used again.
Then Charles called to her, said he had some old army friends who could pick her up and bring her to his new school if she wanted. Gee, sit in a small palace full of dead people or get away from this terrible life. Tough choice. She packed the bare essentials--a bag full of money--and left.
He stayed true to his word. He gave her a roof over her head, food to eat, lessons to learn, and a cause to fight for. “The X-Men,” he said, “will be a shining example of the good mutants can accomplish.” She was his first student and he deemed it appropriate to prepare her as the first X-Man.
“Or X-Woman,” he laughed.
But all was not well. She kept a small part of her mind secret from him and he interpreted the secret as darkness. No amount of cajoling, bribing, psychic probes, or other subterfuge shed light on the patch of unknown. Impressed, Charles backed off and imagined new possibilities for Tessa.
She was the perfect student: astute, disciplined, perceptive, quick. Mostly by herself, she harnessed her mutant powers--not much remained to be taught. This independence and their relationship made her a perfect candidate to be a spy. See, his encounter with his old friend, Magnus, conjured terrible premonitions, and for the first time, he realized that his dream couldn’t be accomplished by inner goodness and heart. Enemies--angry mutants, malevolent politicians, human bigots--didn’t play fair, and to combat the unfair playing field, he needed someone he could trust to best the evils he didn’t want the X-Men to fight.
No, Xavier didn’t believe in bloodshed, but he did believe in preparing for all challenges, challenges like Sebastian Shaw and the increasingly disturbing Hellfire Club. She was his first student, but Charles changed his mind about the first X-Man part.
“My X-Men are heroes. Tessa, you are a spy. Their lives will be defined by honor, yours by your capacity to betray.”
She loved him like the father she never had. She saw the determination in his eyes and wanted badly to see his dream through no matter the cost. Just days before her eighteenth birthday, handcuffs bound her wrists while a collar choked her neck. Her rigid discipline impressed the Hellfire Club’s masses, and in the ensuing fierce bidding war , Sebastian Shaw, with some far away coaxing from Xavier, claimed her.
Through the years, she served Shaw in many capacities from advisor to lover, but she never forgot her true purpose. No matter the debauchery or treachery, she observed and reported pertinent information to Xavier. Sometimes, getting information required bartering, and in the Hellfire Club, currency came in three kinds: money, sex, and power.
Tessa traded in sex, sex with her, sex with someone she owned, sex in public, sex in groups, sexual fetishes, sex in general, sex with generals. Her body wasn’t hers anymore, just another vehicle to achieve a desired end. She tried to ignore the emptiness building in her, but even her detached mind couldn’t refuse the truth: she tired of her traitorous task.
She yearned for an existence beyond the Hellfire Club, beyond Charles’ battles. The constant weights of spying, upholding her image, and assisting Sebastian grated on her bones. For so long she went without happiness, and for the days to come, none flowed her way. Had she been a weaker woman, perhaps she could’ve derived a drop of fulfillment from the nights of bondage, but her eidetic memory assured a place for her horrors, trauma, and purpose.
She couldn’t lose herself no matter how hard she tried. She entrenched herself too far in the Hellfire Club, and to up and leave would not only jeopardize Xavier but also herself. Her recourse? Endure the times and hope for better ones. Tessa wasn’t needy, but even her morale had a limit, even she needed to be assured of the light beyond the darkness.
Too far into Xavier’s dream, too far progressed into her powers to forget, too far into this seedy world to escape.
Too far to stop--the story of her life.
The story took a maddening turn when she tried to stop. Mastermind, the Dark Phoenix, and the Inner Circle were involved, and Tessa, scared out of her wits by the power Jean Grey wielded, warned Xavier about his prized student’s impending corruption at Mastermind’s hands. Only Xavier wasn’t there, not even a mental blip or an answering machine--the man she considered a father abandoned her.
That’s when the bulk of this symphony composed itself.
Abandoned by her mentor. Surrounded by her enemies. Crushed by the weight of her duties. As Emma Frost could attest to, months of torture and interrogation would break the toughest and most loyal of soldiers. Tessa braved the unwitting torture in increments of years. No light at the end of the tunnel. No hope for a better tomorrow. With Xavier absent, no one to guide her.
No reason to continue fighting for the Professor’s dream.
Tessa broke, and she was glad. The love and respect for her teacher soured into hate and resentment for her slaver. Yes, slaver. He treated her like the Hellfire Club treated their slaves. Slaves, to exist only for the master’s purposes. Slaves, to be present only when master willed it. Slaves, to serve without question. Tessa served without question and walked amongst the lions because Xavier told her so. And now, after the Dark Phoenix fractured the organization, after that Jean Grey clone Madelyne Pryor shook the ranks, Tessa sensed a chance to orchestrate her revenge against her master.
Before she came to the United States, she swore to never be used again. She broke her vow and look where it led her. No more. She repurposed herself, and while the drop of contentment eluded her, she didn’t loathe her continued breathing anymore. She didn’t get up every morning and ponder the advantages of slitting her own throat.
What a plus.
The revenge took shape. The more she plotted, the more she realized that killing Xavier wouldn’t be enough. His status in the mutant community ensured an immediate promotion to martyr should he die. The handful of new X-factions--New Mutants, X-Factor, X-Force--made him untouchable through the Hellfire Club, if only because of the potential retribution. Any successful strike against him would have to come at an opportune time and from many fronts.
Tessa got to work.
Contacts from the former (and now deceased) Senator Robert Kelly to street-level drug pushers filled her computer-like mind. She solidified her relationship with each person, never quite sure when they’d come in handy. Her analytical powers amassed an impressive fortune through the stock market. With the rise of the internet and the corresponding lax in network security, she planted backdoor entrances into many high-tech government projects, in particular the secretive Weapons Plus Project and S.H.I.E.L.D. Using her array of data gatherers, she created a profile for each enemy the X-Men faced and evaluated their effectiveness. Hacking into the mansion’s database, she stole information about team organization and lesser battles.
Knowing the Hellfire Club’s weaknesses (backward thinking and constant bickering), she extrapolated the organization’s impending demise and used its slow downfall to further her scheme by feeding information to a returned Charles Xavier. The perceived loyalty allowed him to focus on other agendas--Apocalypse, intergalactic conflicts, alternate dimensions--and leave her alone, content to have her monitor a crippled nemesis.
Armed with a vault of knowledge, Xavier’s faith, and a veritable fortune, Sage waited.
Selene, the immortal Black Queen of the Hellfire Club, provided an opportunity. During another one of her bids for supremacy, the part-time mystic full-time harlot ran afoul Amanda Sefton, or as the X-Men database called her, Magik, Ruler of Limbo. Further research revealed Limbo to be a nexus between the planes of earthly existence. Those who wished to cross from the “Otherworld” must pass through Limbo unless under extraordinary circumstances. Why? Because much of the Otherworld didn’t like the physical world. In fact, one of the Otherworld’s most notorious figures, Belasco, had quite a history with the X-Men, including but not limited to a near successful demonic assault on earth.
Tessa tapped the mercurial Selene to connect her with Belasco. After her tenth orgasm, the witch relented and summoned one of sorcerer’s messengers. What began as a fleeting dialogue snowballed into the plot before her.
Thirsty for revenge, Belasco pledged his services but made it known that he couldn’t act unless freed from his hell dimension. To free him, he needed an artifact safeguarded by Magik, and to get the artifact? That sent a deviously intrigued Selene, acting on Tessa’s behalf, to the doorstep of Dane Whitman, the Black Knight and trusted associate of the Otherworld’s forces of good.
Amazing what a willing smile could get a girl--Selene went from unknown visitor to bedroom buddy in under twenty minutes. After having her way, she drained his soul and reanimated the body with one of Belasco’s demonic minions. The demon wasn’t very smart and Selene had to put it in its place, but since then, he played the role of subversive to the hilt.
“You’re motivated,” Selene grinned at Tessa after completing her task, “When have you independently moved against the X-Men?”
“Today.”
The terse reply amused the Black Queen. Sensing a spectacular show in the wings, Selene perched herself in Tessa’s bed... literally. Twenty four hours a day she stayed in Tessa’s room, unabashedly prying for hints. Tessa being Tessa never tipped her hand, and by the second week, Selene acquired a new respect for the one she termed Sebastian’s concubine.
Yes, a new respect and a whole load of frustration.
Weeks ground into months. People whispered about the strange living arrangement. Both proud women carried on, Tessa refusing to sleep elsewhere and Selene refusing to leave. The mischievous teasing evolved, now a contest of will, restraint, and manipulation. Tessa worked on her magnum opus; Selene poked about with eyes and telepathy. Like a game of cat and mouse, they scurried around each other till one night, Selene caved.
Well, she didn’t exactly cave: she went stir crazy.
Let it be known that while Selene was immortal, she didn’t have the patience of one. As Tessa slipped into her bed, the Black Queen seized her by the shoulders. The question about the X-Men danced behind midnight dark eyes but she held it back. Pale moonlight painted Tessa’s milky white skin, highlighting her ample features against a background of nothingness. Shadows covered most of Selene’s face, showing just enough to reveal a feral fury.
They fucked through the night, the only demands the demands of their lust. It wasn’t happiness, it wasn’t even contentment, but an evening of no cares lifted both women’s spirits. She wouldn’t admit it, but Tessa needed a good, hard toss in the sack more than the skittishly bored Selene. When they finished, their bodies gravitated to opposite sides of the bed. Afraid to let the feeling go away, neither slept, instead they lay there, quiet, quiet to the point where breaths couldn’t be heard.
As the sun rose, Tessa broke the silence.
“I am leaving.”
“For good?”
“For good.”
Selene flipped her hair back. “Your plan better be worth it, Tessa. I didn’t waste months of my life to watch you pay some slob to pick off Xavier two blocks away.”
“Thank you, Selene.”
The climax started with an old enemy, Elias Bogan, and a distressed cry to the Professor. Storm came to Tessa’s rescue, and like that, she integrated herself into the X-mansion. Slowly, the team as a collective entity placed their trust in her, spurred by a budding friendship with Storm. Xavier seemed glad to have Tessa back, but the same couldn’t be said for everyone else. She gauged the reactions she received and adjusted her plans.
Conclusion? Phoenix, Wolverine, White Queen, Gambit, and Rogue had to be removed. The rest were easily predictable based on personality models. She needed a catalyst to get everything going, and Vargas supplied it in the form Elisabeth Braddock’s corpse.
Psylocke’s death prompted important happenings. The Beast quit. The morale in Storm’s team worsened enough for them to return from hunting Destiny’s diaries. Belasco trapped Elisabeth’s departing soul and gave the false Black Knight an opportunity to go to Limbo and retrieve the needed artifact from Magik.
Coincidentally, the Weapons Plus Project completed its new base on the half destroy shell of Asteroid M. Unnoticed by even Xavier, Polaris endured a secondary mutation as well as mental instability. Hmph. Asteroid M. Polaris. Missing ingredient? Magneto, but the old sack of bones hid himself in the ruins of Genosha, a defeated shadow of his imposing self. If the real deal wouldn’t step up to the plate, she’d have to get creative.
No Magneto? No problem. With an ally like Belasco, one didn’t let small details like a missing supermutant get in the way of the best laid plans. A phone call to Selene did the trick. In the span of two days, Tessa obtained a vial of the new guy’s (Xorn’s) blood, sent it to the still mightily amused Black Queen to give to Belasco, and waited for the mystical possession to take hold.
Yes, mystical possession--this was the leap of faith into the supernatural. Though Tessa hadn’t quite bought into magic, she realized that the most successful attacks against the X-Men included technology and mysticism. Enemies like Apocalypse and Fitzroy integrated mutant powers, supernatural phenomena, and bleeding edge science into their plans. Just because she herself didn’t understand the methods behind magic didn’t mean she shouldn’t employ them.
And why Xorn? Being the X-Men’s newest addition, he needed an adjustment period during which most strange behavior would be ignored. Turning an unwitting mutant into the Master of Magnetism drifted into the strange category, so the best--and only--victim was Xorn. Anyone else and Tessa’s plans would’ve been discovered too soon.
The last thing she needed was an early discovery. That’s when she created the handle, Attrior, which, as anyone could readily see, was an anagram for “traitor.” Poetic, wasn’t it? A little obvious but poetic, just because Tessa noticed the X-Men always missed the obvious.
The plan moved faster.
She pulled the Dark Beast into the mix, both for his unrivaled genius and hate of Emma Frost. Through him, the mutant collars were purchased and the plan to eliminate the White Queen’s existence blossomed.
Using old contacts from the Hellfire Club’s drug trade, Tessa procured a new substance known as Kick. She sent some to the Dark Beast to enhance. When Lorna Dane crashed to her lowest (after Alex Summers rejected her affections), a dose of Kick mysteriously found its way to her room under the guise of heroine. Some telepathic adjustments later, Polaris gave it a shot and the rest was history.
Vargas, still alive and fuming over his defeat, jumped at the chance to get his revenge against Rogue. A call to Bella Donna, Gambit’s greedy ex-wife, claimed the woman’s cooperation with money. The plan? Lure Gambit to New Orleans (Bella Donna’s job), attack him (Vargas’ task), and when news got back to the mansion, Rogue and however many others would fly to his rescue.
To remove Wolverine and the Phoenix, the Weapons Plus Project and Fantomex came into play. Wolverine’s past always shrouded his better judgment, and Tessa counted on Fantomex to entice the Canadian and put him in grave danger, thereby prompting the Phoenix to rescue him. Being a money hording prick, Fantomex agreed to the task.
Tessa wound up her pawns and watched them chitter chatter away. Oh, she coordinated, but for the most part, she wanted each facet to bring an element of randomness to the plan, randomness that deflected suspicion from her. Also didn’t hurt to notice that supervillains did their best when they thought themselves to be working alone.
Seriously, how many times had those like Magneto and Arcade teamed up only to fall flat on their faces due to egos, incompetence, and betrayal? Too many times, and Tessa avoided the pitfall all together by keeping each faction mostly separated.
What followed... a masterpiece, truly a thing of beauty and one for the ages. Not everything went right, but in the span of days, ever since Psylocke’s return forced her to act, Tessa blew apart Xavier’s dream. Most of the X-Men met or were going to meet their demise soon--that’s where Belasco and his army came in. After she duped the S.H.I.E.L.D. planes into dropping bombs on downtown Manhattan, mutant-human relations would never ease. Emma Frost had been outed, and with her connection to the Xavier Institute, it was only a matter of time before the school itself was outed too. No, Charles Francis Xavier didn’t die, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
Killing his dream, however, more than sufficed.
Others defined her life. Whether a harsh mistress or a deceptively benevolent master, she never lived for herself. She bled for others, but today, she bled for herself. She might not have lived life for herself, but she made damn well sure she’d die for herself.
So here she was, back to where she began: the end, thrown out of a window by one of Gambit’s exploding, kinetic cards. Oddly, free falling to her doom, Tessa felt the elusive fulfillment she yearned for but never attained. In one fraction of a second, her soul leapt at her success, at her happiness, at her contentment. It wasn’t much, but for a woman who’d never tasted such sweet sensations, it was a revelation beyond anything she’d experienced.
Forty feet to the ground. Tessa exhaled. Wouldn’t be long now. Smash, then blissful ignorance to the can of worms she’d opened. Her symphony ruined an entire species but seeing the look of shock and surprise on Xavier’s face was worth it.
She hit, but despite shock and breathlessness, she didn’t die. Dark eyes refocused themselves moments before another impact slightly jarred her vision.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Sage.”
Emma Frost--recognized that arrogant voice anywhere. Wasn’t the Dark Beast suppose to occupy her? What was the diamond clad White Queen doing here in front of a windshield-less car and cradling Tessa like she’d just jumped four stories high and snatched her from a gory splat?
“You’re welcome,” Emma sniped, laying her down on the broken sidewalk. “While your computer of a brain is busying itself, I have a mad man to take care of.”
Oh, Tessa already digested everything. The blonde’s status meant both McCoy’s efforts and her own with the self-destruction of the X-Men’s planes hadn’t killed her. Emma’s survival suggested Psylocke’s, and with Psylocke usually came her twin brother, who unlike the X-Men actually knew what to do to overcome Belasco and this false Magneto. Emma disappeared into the Empire State Building, and for now, had no inkling of Tessa’s role in tonight’s chaos. Saved, and by all people, saved by the White Queen. Weirder things had happened before.
Gathering herself, Tessa shuffled into the driver’s seat of the burnt Eclipse. Another oddity: Mystique, hunched over in the passenger side, quivered like a junkie.
When the door opened, the scrunched up metamorph blurted, “God, you’re fucking insane, Frost.”
“Sorry, but I am not Emma Frost.”
The car peeled out and Mystique’s frantic yelp reverberated into the night.
*****************
- To be continued...
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