Avenger Assembled
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"All right..." Mark hmmed, unscrewing the rum cap with his teeth and taking a swig. "Gag! Agh, that's not good..." He set the banana rum aside, sloshing it a little. "The banana rum, I would not recommend it. Blech. I should have gotten the vodka and the ice cream out..." He studied Erin and pointed with a finger. "All right, Erin, tell me...what's the cutest part of a guy? It doesn't have to be part of Trevor," he added for his friend's benefit, "but if it is, go nuts! Cutest part of a guy."
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At the punch table a couple of minutes later, Joan drank good old-fashioned punch with ice cream in it and considered her options. She was glad not to be the center of attention anymore, not having enjoyed the feeling of being alongside the host one bit. It wasn't that Felix Fassbinder was a bad man, she judged, just that she herself didn't like being the subject of so many eyes. After some consideration, she set aside her punch and headed for the ladies room, having caught sight of the famous Miss A heading there. Maybe this was a good time for a confab...especially after the new arrivals she'd caught sight of out the corner of her eye. Where had Viktor gone, anyway?
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"I memorized every Freedom Leaguer when I was six," replied Edge proudly. "My dad was so proud, he made me show it off at parties! I used to know all the Liberty League members too, but there were so many heroes in the Golden Age with so many names in common that it's tough to tell them apart. You know there were _four_ Patriots, and two Patriettes?" Mark coughed. "The toys weren't just when I was a kid...I mean, I've still got them, but they're in my closet. I'm saving them for my kids someday!" he said amiably. "I really like kids, so I hope to have a whole bunch and teach them how awesome it is to be a superhero and have superpowers!" He hmmed, then said, "Okay, Erin! Truth or dare!" He gestured with the bottle in her direction.
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Mark confirmed first that associate and reserve members counted, and they were going by codenames and not secret IDs, then began to talk. He was wobbly and gesturing with the bottle of banana rum in his hand, but he stayed on point as he began to talk. And talk, and talk! "Aarhus the Aardvark, aka Suomi Finnson, he joined in 1976 and retired in '83, Ab-bot, the Robot from Beyond the Moon..." He stood there, gesturing and gesticulating, only occasionally wandering off to tell exciting stories about the various members of what turned out to be a very long list. "And finally, Zzzzyralax, the Man from the Fourth Dimension, who joined back in 1961 and never came to a single meeting after the first one. Aah, cold!" He hurried back into the tub, sliding in, bottle of rum in hand. "Oh man, I let my whole body get cold..." He closed his eyes. "My favorite collectible is my dad's action figure," he confessed suddenly. "It's from the complete Bicentennial League set. It's the only run they ever made of a Rick Lucas figure where he wasn't part of someone else's playset. It's still in the original packaging and everything. With a kung-fu grip!"
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10 Welp.
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Mark applauded enthusiastically. "Woo! Go, Mike!" He looked quite pleased with himself, and raised his hand for Alex. "Slap me five! Down low! Yeah, we should totally open our own superhero design studio. Or, hmm..." He rubbed his chin. "Even better, we start out by redecorating everyone else's costumes! It'll be...not so much? Okay." He suddenly pulled himself out of the water, revealing that indeed he was wearing the bright red Speedo, or one just like it, that he usually favored in the water. "I need more drinky drinky," he said a little awkwardly. "And Alex, I also take truthy dare! I'm never too good to copy my friends when they're being cool!"
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"As you recall, my flower of the night, I never expected to go to prison. I _expected_ to rule on high as King Bee of the city!" He shot a glance in the direction of the door on his side of the room, then coughed. "And you should see the way they look at me in here," he said proudly. "The men who fight the Freedom League to a standstill, they get respect in the penitentiary. Not to mention the famous Dark Star," he added just a little bitterly. "In any event, I had no plans save to achieve my masterstroke! World domination, with my queen at my side. That can still happen, you know," he added smoothly.
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"I have been taking acting lessons," he told her distinctly, his deep voice a low rumble. "The drama coach here says I am a natural actor. We will be putting on a Christmas Carol for the holiday season, and I have the distinct honor of playing Mr. Bob Crachit." He smiled. "You should come to our showing, Fleur de Joie. The Blackstone Players are well-known as the finest in the land, and no one could appreciate me the way you can, my arboreal angel."
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Eventually, Stesha pulled herself away from the pastoralism of her world and headed back to the urban greyness of Freedom City. Well, sort of grey: fall was here, and that meant leaves and trees in a million different colors. There were precious few trees on Blackstone Island, however; the maximum-security prison being very mindful of plant controllers seeking to break in, or out. There were only a few arboreal-manipulating bad guys, but the prison had been around for a long time, and had a very good record. The Bee-Keeper had gotten himself sent to Blackstone after his most recent caper rather than just going back to Providence: bee-ifying the Freedom League and attacking the entire city with giant bee swarms and bee monsters will do that for a guy's reputation. Even after what had happened last time with Red Bolt, Fleur de Joie was heroine enough to get a meeting room (through glass) with a supervillain easy as pie. When he entered, B. Barry Bonds looked a little battered, but otherwise unruffled by his prison orange. Instead he winked through the glass as he sat down, ignoring the guards as much as possible, and opted to let Stesha do the talking as they got their privacy.
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"OK," agreed the giant bee. "YOU ARE OUR BEZT FRIEND, ZTEZA. IT IZ TOO BAD YOU CANNOT BEE THE QUEEN!" She laughed her odd booming, buzzing laugh at that absurdity, then rolled over onto her huge legs. "I WILL BEE WATCHING FOR YOU. IT WILL BEE GOOD TO HAVE THEZE ZKIEZ BUZZING WITH BEEZ, THEN A WHOLE WORLD JUZT FOR UZ! AND YOU," she added, "AND YOUR ZQUIZY FRIENDZ TOO. SPAZE FOR EVERYONE!"
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"NO!" exclaimed Bee-atrizz mournfully, stopping to set her weight set in the ground with a thump. On legs as thick as Stesha's body, she padded over to a huge cluster of smaller flowers and rolled in them, looking down at Stesha like a sad dog the size of a Mac truck who was also a bee. "WE ZAW NOZING OF THE WORLD BEEFORE HE CAST US OFF LIKE ZO MUCH GARBAGE! EVEN THOUGH WE KNOW HE WAZ BAD, IT IZ ZTILL ZAD TO BE GONE AWAY FROM THE OTHERZ! WHAT IF ZOMETHING HAPPENED AND WE WERE NOT THERE TO HELP?"
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Early November 2010 "ZINGZ ARE NOT ZO GOOD," confessed Bee-atrizz, humming along behind Stesha like a parade float as they walked through the beautiful fields of the world she'd found. "WE ARE EATING VERRY GOOD, VERRY GOOD INBEED, BUT THERE ARE ZO MANY PROBLEMZ. THE BOYZ WANT A QUEEN, BUT WE DO NOT HAVE ONE." The gargantuan bee got a look on her face, something Stesha was learning to interpret, of almost apology. "WE HAD TO LEAVE HER, AND ALL THE OTHERZ BEEHIND, WHEN THE MAZTER ABANDONED UZ. IT WAZ VERY ZAD, BUT WE WERE NOT ALLOWED TO ZTAY. IF WE DO NOT HAVE ONE, THE COLONY WILL DIE WHEN WE DO."
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"Oh," said Mark quietly as Corbin described his family, suddenly feeling an odd stab of recognition he couldn't place. "My family lives in Ashton. We used to do a lot of traveling thanks to my father's work, but he...left the family recently and so we've been at home." He looked down at the glass in his hand and said, "Anyway, I'm sure you'll do really well. Our common experiences have a way of uniting us even beyond our...uncommon ones. Alex Albright is in our class, did you know that? I'm sure she's got some common experiences about managing money and coming from wealth, but balancing that with special knacks. She does a lot of charity work."
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"That's certainly good to hear," said the tall journalist, leaning down so she could whisper in the magnate's ear. "But you understand how a journalist could misread the evening," she added, her voice low and throaty. As she spoke, she pointed discreetly, her eyes scanning the room. "You've got the underage son of Rath and Stromberg's best at an adult party thrown by one of the biggest chemical magnates in the city, while the de Haviland heir and a government cyborg are suspiciously determined to help him stay out of view of the paparazzi, all while the world's most powerful scientist out of Greek armor dances with America's finest. Something's going on here tonight, even if everyone involved thinks they're perfectly innocent. And you know what they say, Felix. If you can't spot the sucker at the poker table in five minutes, it's you." She grinned, and let him spin her. "Now, I'll lead."
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Kill kill kill! Vampire instincts, while enormously useful in life or death situations, hunting bad guys, and any number of things, were not terribly useful here. "Yeah, he's our kid from the future. It's a weird situation all around," he growled, peering at the doors all around them. "I have no idea what to do here, Ourobous," he confessed. "Just...just tell me what we need to do to get you and your mother back, and we'll do it. Whatever it takes." His hands flexed, over and over again, as if crushing a god's larynx between them.
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APPROVED
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"That's one idea," said Mark, hmming. "But let me show you something that's a little more classic." He waved his fingers in the air and with a somewhat blurry production of black bubbles produced an outfit in Mike's blue and gold (aka the Claremont colors), but with many exciting changes! He walked his friends through all of them, the outfit spinning in the air as he did so. "Look, see, instead of a bland cape, it's got racing stripes!" And sure enough it did, big flames shooting up the side of the cape like a Hot Wheels car. "Like fire, because he flies so fast! And on the chest, insignia!" It was a giant P. "See, it's a P! For Phalanx! And with the tight muscle shirt over the chest, and the shorts on the outside, so he's like a bodybuilder or circus strongman! You really have to build the codpiece area, you know, for the ladies!" Sensing a lack of support for his idea, Mark sighed and constructed from whole cloth an outfit matching Alex's description and plan...well, that, and with the cape with flames on it and the giant P on the chest. And the very tight shorts on the outside. "OK, there's a merger of both our ideas. What do you think?"
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A voice arose from the darkness. "Hey, Midnight Jacuzzi! I bet there's one of those in the Midnight Cave..." And then, a few moments later, "Oooh, I bet you guys are kissing in here! That's awesome!" And it was! Trevor and Erin, of all of Mark's friends, were definitely the people who he thought needed kissing the most, and the fact that they'd found each other just made things more convenient and happy for everyone. He sat his drink down, very carefully in the dark, and applauded. "Yay! Okay, Alex, like Erin said!"
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Joan carefully paid attention to the two scientists, listening with interest as they talked. And it was real interest: for all that she was likely being sold a bill of goods even by the lovely Miss A, it was still more interesting to hear about that sort of thing than the boring details of the society party around her. And how could she be upset about a woman doing science? "That sounds like fascinating work," she said honestly, "and I'd love to talk to you about it at length. After the dancing!" she added with a laugh. She stepped back, shooting a glance over at the interplay between Corbin and the reporter. What makes 'Tex' Muniz especially fun to deal with, she mused sarcastically, is that he's actually from Garden City...hey! Isn't that Corbin Hughes, the Hughes heir? Yes, yes it is. And where are his parents? Ah. She wasn't much for gossip, but she made a note anyway. Kids today, getting sucked into parties like this, women around them who think they don't have any options besides their face to get ahead...it's sad. All in all, she wasn't in a great mood when she rounded on Felix Fassbinder, but that didn't mean she was above playing with her food. "Perhaps, Mr. Fassbinder, if you think you can handle dancing with a woman." She looked down at him and added with a smirk. "Hands at ten and two," she said, reaching down and taking his hands, putting them firmly on her shoulder blades. She was a tall, muscular woman, and felt very strong. "Now lead me." Is Hughes working FOR, or WITH Fassbinder? And what's the AEGIS connection?
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"That's not..." Mark thought better of it, finished his schapps, and poured another one, slowly sinking further into the bubbly, steaming water. "That's, uh, actually about what we heard on Earth-XX. Alex Albright kept trying to seduce Michelle Harris, but she would have none of him till he put a ring on her finger. Marcie was always encouraging Michelle to try and live a little, even...well, uh, I guess I shouldn't tell that story." He coughed. "Mike, I think you're up for truth or dare."
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With the host distracted, Joan stepped back into a discreet corner and went to work, mentally noting the arrival of all the new faces. Hmm, Viktor Archeville and the famous Miss Americana. Woof, I see her pictures don't do her justice. Joan wasn't the type to get jealous of another woman's good looks, though, so after a brief stab of envy she put herself back to work. Two scientists from the beautiful people out together, that makes sense. But hey, isn't he dating Fulcrum, that giantess from the Interceptors? Hmm hmm. She missed her notepad, but her brain would have to get the job done. Estelle de Havilland, of course, since there's a party...And Victory, that AEGIS cyborg...quite a crowd Mr. Fassbinder has out for the evening. She hmmed for a moment, then decided she wasn't going to get anywhere if she didn't get closer. "Viktor! How nice to see you!" she said warmly, walking up and embracing the scientist around the shoulders. "And here I thought it was just going to be all investors and no inventors here." She laughed, and gave a polite hello to the lovely Miss Americana. "Hello, I don't know if we've been introduced. I'm Joan Collier, from the Herald."
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"Hah! Nice one, Trevor. She's a super-merc," Mark offered, having taken a moment to place the name himself. "She does bodyguard work for mastermind types mostly, she doesn't go out and knock over banks. Good moral choice there, Trevor. She's made of sand, see, so she can travel around and fight like that, but she can also harden herself up and turn herself into stone. What's really interesting about her is that because she's also a shapeshifter who changes her whole body, technically she's naked every time she fights. And in all her pictures!" Mark made a "bosoms! And lots of 'em!" gesture as politely as his good manners and level of intoxication allowed. "So, you want to take your turn, Trevor, or leave it open?"
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Fusion gave the bon vivant older man a hard look before Joan judged that Felix was just flirting with her. Looking down at the chemical magnate, she said with a distinct smile, showing teeth, "You first, Mr. Fassbinder." She took a drink, trusting her hardened constitution to protect her from the effects of weak alcohol. She had to drink the hard stuff to get really hammered these days. She fought the urge to shove her wedding ring in the guy's face, never liking the idea of hiding behind her marriage as a way of discouraging certain types of men. Especially the certain types of men she couldn't discourage too hard as long as they were actually behaving themselves. "Or is that something you prefer to leave up to your staff?" she asked innocently.
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'Sa DC 20 Sense Motive or Bluff check to know Joan hates this. Hey SC, how'd Felix roll on his Morph this morning?
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I hate this. In a long, trailing red gown that not incidentally hid the lines of her body well enough to conceal the tentacles wrapped around her midsection, Joan Collier stood patiently in line and wished she was anywhere else. Snobby society parties, servants dressed like French maids from a fetish catalog...why am I here again? Oh, right, because she'd made that stupid bet on the World Series with Fletch Beaumont and she'd lost. Now here she was, doing the society gig, while Fletch took the usual society reporter for a romantic getaway in the Hamptons. What is this, 1940? Women on the society beat indeed. But she kept a pretty smile on her face and kept her eyes open, mindful of the story.