ic Sweet Child Of Mine (IC)

[Poncho]

Spring, 1987

 

"Alright. We'll each go our separate ways until the heat goes off." Melter said, as the vault closed. Each member of the cadre of criminals put in one fifth of the code on the keypad. Then the door closed, and a hissing of steam locked the vault entirely. "When everything's cooled down, we'll get back together and split the profits."

 

The team split, leaving the vault in the Arizona desert, hidden in the foothills of the Sierra Madre Mountains.

 

Spring, 2024

 

It's been a quiet life ever since Supercrimes! ended. There's been a few magazine or talking head spots in various documentaries or special editions, but nothing permanent. Which isn't that bad of a thing, given that Richard and Paige are now approaching- or are in- their 60s. They're almost ready to take Social Security, even if they don't look quite as old. It was probably a nice life; if rather boring.

 

That is, until one day. When Richard and Paige receive a phone call from Meadowbrook Nursing Home, located in Freedom City.

 

"...Hello." The voice is old and worn by the years, but distinct. It conjures up memories from almost 40 years ago.

 

Mark Mettle, alias The Melter; a Costumed Criminal from the 1980s. He had never been in Freedom City proper; he was a bit too out there for the Freedom City of the Moore Act, with his blow-torch like flamethrower gauntlets and propensity for bombastic speeches, but he'd had a brain on him. He'd been the one who put the plan together.

 

"Fast Forward, Hologram. I need to see you. It's about the Sierra Madre job. Can you come by Meadowbrook? I'm here under my own name. I think we should talk about it in person."

[Avenger Assembled]

Richard's first thought - and maybe his second one - was about bringing their checkbook. It wasn't that Mark had particularly been a money sponge when they were younger; they'd all lived score to score and spent and shared money like it was water as long as they had it. (When they weren't feuding, usually about when someone in the group had been convinced that someone else was making a pass at them - or wasn't!) 

 

But the reality of it was that he and Paige had been lucky. Lucky to get out of it when they did, lucky to survive the Terminus Invasion of '93 that had made their pardon possible, lucky to have happy, healthy kids (and one to grow on, for that matter), and lucky to find work afterwards that made them household names for nothing more dangerous than wacky television adventures and that meant they wouldn't be hurting for money even after Bryant went off to college. And hell - they were also lucky that their superpowers meant they were slowing down instead of living in a retirement home. They had years before they retired - and between their three kids and the money they were all heading towards, they were never going to live in a place like Meadowbrook. Guys like Mark...well it wasn't hard to imagine what had happened. 

There was a lot of money in Sierra Madre, even if we never saw any of it...if he wants money, we've got it. Depending on how much. He looked at Paige across the dining room table, the letter sitting between them. Having turned sixty years old the year before, he'd made the conscious decision to stop dying his spiky crewcut - and if it wasn't as grey as it should be at his age, well, it was a lot grayer than it had been in 1987. The thought of Mark, who had once been so young and vital, reduced to asking them for money in his retirement - well it was an ugly thought. But it wouldn't be the first time it had happened to an old friend. 

[Electra]

"I can't believe The Melter is still alive, honestly," Paige replied to Richard's unspoken thought. There wasn't a speck of grey in her hair, thanks to an excellent stylist in Los Angeles, and a rigorous moisturizing routine meant that what wrinkles she had could be mostly concealed with makeup. She wasn't exactly an ingenue, but she also wasn't out of place amongst the moms of the other children in Bryant's class. "None of us were making good life choices back then, but I remember him being especially... exuberant." She rubbed a thumb across her lips thoughtfully, looking down at the letter. "He's not that much older than us, so if he's in a nursing home he's probably not well. That can get very expensive, very fast."

 

She flicked her eyes up to Richard. "We might be able to help out some," she allowed, "but I like to keep the past where it belongs. We put that whole life behind us a long time ago, and we have responsibilities. Let's go and hear him out, at least."

[Avenger Assembled]

Richard and Paige got out to Meadowbrook the way they'd been going places together since they were teenagers - by holding hands and running. While technically that got them there in the blink of an eye; it also gave them time to talk a little more thanks to the benefits of telepathy amplified by temporal manipulation, the city whizzing by them so fast it might have been a blur. I know, I'm a soft touch for people from the old days, he admitted wryly. Don't worry, this isn't going to be another Gary and June. Hell...maybe we can at least decorate his room, get him a new television, all that stuff. He was consciously trying to keep images of their old friend in extremis from any number of causes out of his head. 

[Poncho]

Meadowbrook.

 

It wasn't a high class retirement home for the rich and famous; it was a solidly middle-income looking affair. It's long driveway drew a lazy half-circle around a pond that would have ducks in it in the warmer months. It was a one story affair with 4 wings balanced around a central intake. It had an inbuilt library, a small greenhouse, and an open air area for playing chess and checkers.

 

It was a bit too cold for many of the older folk to be out in the chill, and the open air area had a fence to make sure people entered through the front door. The nurses there maintained a simple electronic sign in book; check who you were visiting, sign in with a name, and a printer nearby spewed out a little sticker to put on your coat while you were visiting. Everything to make sure the people inside lived a nice, comfortable life. Signs nearby offered movie night- this week's movie was Jaws-, a bi-monthly canasta night, 'Wii Time' every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 3-5PM.

 

It looked absolutely nothing like what a Supervillain would choose as their retirement home. But wasn't that the point? Mark hadn't been a Supervillain for decades. He didn't want to be. He was just an old, tired man, living in Room 1501. When, or if, the couple signed in to visit Mark, the nurse on duty would smile.

 

"He's popular. He got a visitor earlier this week, and his son's in there with him right now. It's nice, Mister Mark's a nice guy. Never bothers anyone." she chuckled a bit and sighed. "Some of our other guests can be a bit rowdy or feisty, but not Mr. Mark."