It's Freki

August 25, 2016:

Emma and Betsy have been digging into Donald Pierces business dealings and found a group that is also investigating the man. They reach out to them. (emits by Mana)

New York


NPCs: Freki



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Donald Pierce - this name keeps popping up in X-Red's investigations of where The Purifiers are getting most of their funding. Still the members of X-Red aren't able to approach the Hellfire Club directly so they've reached out to some other X-Men. Emma Frost and Betsy Braddock. Both members of the rarified club. And the two women have been busy, finding information and piecing it together.

What they for certain is that the recent Reaver and Purifier trouble in Europe has come from two sources: The Sapiens Foundation - a pro human policy think tank group - and the Ironwell Corporation, allegedly a tech service corporation but it is in reality an apparent shell holding. And both of these groups lead back to Donald Pierce. Confirmation that the current Black Bishop of the Hellfire Club he's been using the Clubs accounts to conceal his financial moves.

What is of interest though, is there is another group that has been watching Pierce and some careful digging by the two women, have found a contact - who simply identifies 'Freki'.

Which is how the two women, find themselves in a dark park late at night. It was the only place this contact would meet. As they approach, a gravelly voice sort of growls "Is it just you two, or will there be more?" as a lupine figure steps from the shadows.

Betsy's dressed like the socialite she is— heels, stockings, skirt— a thin choker around her neck and a knee-length, haute trenchcoat that doesn't remotely look waterproof draping from her shoulders. Her hands disappear into the pockets and her posture is bot languid and poised.

If there's any doubt about who she is, the cool superiority in her eyes marks her as a step above the various other twenty-somethings who are marauding about the city, out to see and be seen. Her purple hair is combed back into a wide streak shaped like a comma, curling the small of her back.

She stands just outside arm's reach of Emma, perhaps a betrayal of their readiness— far enough apart a single attacker couldn't take them with one attack.

"Just us," Betsy says, her voice low and betraying her exquisite control.
It has taken a few days for the latest investigation firm Emma has hired to find the leads to this Freyki character. Already, every firm and specialist Emma has been able to assemble has been chasing down leads to Pierce and his shellgame of companies and fronts, as well as the Facility, Cyberdata, and more. Rare it is that all of this work yields a concrete lead, but several have matured in the last week or so, including those on Pierce, and now this other.

The hunter of one's enemy can indeed potentially be one's ally. But Emma Grace Frost is neither foolish, nor stupid, and she's not taking chances.

Outwardly, Emma too is arrayed in finery of simple, graceful elegance and perfection that is several cuts above the norm. Emma's dress is white, her trenchcoat just another shade of the same, her updone and trailing platinum blonde locks an artful arrangement. Her jewelry could probably buy a high-end luxury automobile, even at cut-rate pawn prices. Her only concession to the nature of this meeting is the relatively short stature of her heels, a mere two inches of squared heel to her boots, rather than the five-inch stilettos she usually prefers.

One does not go to a meeting in the park in heels. It's just not done.

When that growling voice speaks, Emma simply inclines her head slightly, acknowledging. She could have brought others. Would have, in fact. But Betsy was free to accompany her, and Emma doesn't need more backup than a psionic ninja. So she waits.

The werewolf's golden eyes regard the two women, she's still mostly in shadow and very cautious. "So, you've been investigating the Black Bishop? A dangerous person. Are you sure you're ready to take this on?" It's not a challenge, but this wolfess exudes a degree feralness, there's nothing tame about her, at all.

"What is it you wanted from me?" This might need some finessing and perhaps the two telepaths might want to try to scan the the wolfs mind - Find out who she's working for.

"I suspect that it matters more to you that you are convinced that we're the ones for the job," Betsy says, tilting an aubergine brow at the werewolf. She shifts her stance a little, wind tugging at her hair and coat. It is getting cool late at night in New York, as the seasons threaten to change to Fall.

"So first— not trust, but a leap of faith. Second, we need to know everything you have on Pierce. The Bishop, the man, the Club— what he eats for breakfast and how he takes his cocktails at the bar. No detail is too mundane," Betsy tells the werewolf.

Emma had not really thought it would be a werewolf. She's a mite startled, inside, when she sees the outline of the female wolfen in the darkness, as she breaks cover enough to let them see she is present. But she does not fear. Fear is the mindkiller.

"We have indeed been investigating Pierce. And we are not afraid of the danger he represents. Neither he, nor any with him." Emma responds to Freyki, watching carefully. "We know who he is. We know who he works with, and who he secretly betrays. What we do not yet know is why, beyond his desire for power at any price."

But Emma does not ask why. Instead, she asks something else. "What I would want to know is … why do you and yours care? What is your fight with him, his actions, his methods?" Because that will determine if they can indeed be allies.

There's a chuffing sound from the werewolf at Betsy's questions, she's laughing. "We might be watching him, but we're not that close. Our kind aren't … welcomed … in his circles." The lean figure moves slightly in the shadows, light catching the reddish hue to her fur. "A leap of faith, huh?"

There's a long pause as those eyes settle on Emma. The predator in this one is strong and she sensed Emma's momentary startlement.

"Very good then. You ask why we would care? Look at me and then consider what The Purifiers and Reavers are doing. They seek to erradicate our kind, yours and mine, how could we not take exception to that? You already know that the Black Bishop has funneled funds to Operation Extinction via the Club."

On the surface, that seems like a reasonable answer and it is. But the telepathic talents of Betsy and Emma will detect that this Wolfess is being fed information - question is, why and by who? There's a 'feeling' of a strong female behind the thoughts.

Betsy gets the womans attention now "Have you looked into his own company, yet? Pierce-Consolidated Mining? It's experienced a number of high-tech thefts… would you like to guess what materials have been stolen?"

Betsy narrows her eyes at Freki as Emma takes the lead. Emma is, in truth, the better negotiator— Betsy's the enforcer in their little tag team. Haughty derision only gets you so far before a businesswoman's touch can let diplomacy in the door. Betsy led, but Emma took the ball and ran with it.

So Betsy falls quiet, letting Emma speak for both, but her mind extends quiet, silent feelers towards Freki. They're shadow and dust in the air, invisible, intangible, and so well hidden even Miss Frost would likely not notice them were it not for years of long familiarity with Betsy's methods.

Those psychic tendrils wiggle against mental shields with patience and deliberation until they find some chink, some crack, and start applying gentle pressure to the most uneasy parts of Frieka's memories, encouraging the woman to distrust her own memories a little and confide in Betsy and Emma even more. Making them both more… trustworthy, rather than dragging the information from her brain by dint force.

Subtle. Like a ninja.

The platinum blonde looks up, eyeing the wolfen woman curiously. Why is it every female wolf-related mutant she meets has russet fur? Is it a requirement? Perhaps the red fur harkens to red hair, and an Irish or Scottish temper? She wouldn't know, but it's a curious analogue, at least. "Of course we have examined his own company. And an analysis of the components stolen from his company would tie directly to technologies seen in use by the Purifiers and Reavers." Emma is no amateur, after all, though Freyki like has no idea how close Emma is to the core of this, and why that has put her on the inside track to the answers.

"I have no desire to tug you along and use you as a catspaw, or a wolfspaw in this case." Emma offers, honestly. "But someone is doing just that. Someone has been feeding you much of your intelligence. So far, it seems that information has been accurate. But without knowing who it is, can you possibly know that their desired ends match with your own?" It's not as if either of these two women is showing any mutant abilities or physical aberrations. So why would they care, after all, about any of this? Interesting that question hasn't come up.

Maybe it's a pack thing - the colour of the pelt. Who can tell, really.

Betsy is met by a highly feral mind that doesn't respond like a human's would. This is a mutant or shifter who embraces their animal nature and lets it free with regular abandoned. It is also highly aware of everything around them - a predator ready to pounce at the shortest notice.

"Good. You know of the thefts. Now dig deeper." Freki answers Emma, tail flicking in the air - she doesn't realise it, but she's sensing Betsy's telepathic tendril - they're subtle, but the wolfess mind is reacting. "So you say. Feeding us information or one of our own? Our pack is so concerned with what others want. If they're methods assist us, that's all that matters."

The question though, elicits a faint image. A tall blonde wolf, in a business suit. Very powerful.

The wolf takes a moment to look behind her, as if she is ready to take her leave.


Betsy backs off the psychic sussurances, just a little, and tickles the part of the wolfen's brain that encourages feelings of safety and security. Her touch is delicate, a feather rather than a nudge or push. Encouraging feelings of restfulness and trust.

A psychic thought flickers to Emma: <She's resilient. This is proving difficult.> A rare admission from the talented psychic, but the dark shadow of the pair remains aloof and impossible to read, her features inscrutable by virtue of heritage, personality, and impeccable self-control.

"There's more you aren't telling us. You've a very small opportunity here to make an ally and empower us as much as possible. The only thing worse than hitting the king is failing to kill him with your first blow."

"We have dug quite deeply into his business and personal finances, as well as his shell companies, covers and other entities." Emma offers. "It was in doing so that we discovered your own investigations." Which is what brought them here tonight, after Freyki's contact with them.

"Your pack is concerned with your own survival and chance to thrive. That means making sure the threat Pierce represents, and those he is fomenting are stopped. We are in a position to do a great deal of that. But only if you give us whatever you have been given."

Emma is well aware that the blonde wolf in the other woman's mind must somehow be inside Pierce's operation. It's the only way to explain the intelligence coup the pack has been handed. And that's fine with her, so long as she benefits as well. "The choice is yours. But if you want him defeated, you'll have to let us in. It's why we're here."

"Follow the thefts, Ms Frost." The wolfs tail stops it flicking as the eyes settle back on the women. "That will give you what you need." Maybe the blonde is inside Pierces operation, or maybe not. But Freki certainly seems to trust her. There's a sense too, that she's given them what she can. Whoever is feeding this information, is playing a close game.

With that, the wolfess turns and melts into the shadows. They can sense her thoughts fading as the distance between them widens … rather quickly.

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