ic Hot Gossip

[Supercape]

GM

 

Sunday, 14th December

 

The High Steaks Casino / Restaurant

 

Early Evening

 

Sasha Shots was dressed to kill. And that was her aim. 

 

Not a shot through the heart. At least not the ballistic type. Her target was Geckoman, and she was dressed to make him swoon. It was a simple matter - she had poured herself into a hot little black cocktail dress of high expense, adorned herself with a few choice expensive jewels and jewelry, and applied her face paint. 

 

Sasha Shots was a journalist of average capabilities. What did make her valuable was a body to die for and a face to weep over. She was the new "face" of media, sweating pure sex appeal. 

 

And the corner of High Steaks, overlooking both the ground floor eating, and the raised area where gambling of all sorts took place, was hers. It was an opera booth of sorts. 

 

She checked her watch. 

 

Would Geckoman be late?

 

The Daily Herald has publically invited him here today to give his "side" of the story, under the headline "Geckoman? Has he the Geckoballs?"

 

The crowd below were packed, both gamblers and diners (and a large number who were both), all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the "Rogue Reptile!"

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman's Cuban heels clicked on the floor as he strolled nonchalantly past the bouncers. He didn't wear his usual costume. They were trying to take him out of his environment, lure him into some sort of... thing. And, frankly, he never got to wear a suit anymore. The one he wore was a three-piece, the trousers and double-breasted jacket both cut to fit in a bright green similar to that or his costume. He wore a pale, pale yellow shirt underneath a near-golden waistcoat, eschewing a tie in favour of leaving the top few buttons open. His customary goggles stayed on, without the usual full head mask, the straps keeping the sides of his hair down even as the top fought to spike and curl in random directions.

 

"Evening," he nodded at a couple of diners as he strode in. He casually waved at a croupier. Or he thought he was a croupier. Unlike the hospital fiasco, he wasn't unarmed. His waistcoat was a modified utility belt harness, with some smokebombs and boomerangs in the pockets, circuitry in the seams and buttons, and staves slotted in at the sides. 

 

Chris pointedly made a show of wandering the casino floor for a while. He could easily find the reporter. But this could be a set-up, so he surreptitiously cased the joint. Cameras, anyone who looked suspicious even by a casino's standards. Concealed weapons. Anything that a quick sweep would show. 

[Supercape]

GM

 

Geckoeyes scanned the joint. It was high class, no question about it. Large money was being pushed around. The wine was top quality Pinot Noir, old world, fine vintage. The Skeaks gave off a perfect bloody aroma. This was, as they say, how the other half lived, When they were not sailing their silver plated yacht studded with diamonds as big as your fist off their own private island. 

 

Cameras, there were a plenty. Some blatant, some hidden. Not surprising really, with gambling going on. As the sign said "Cheaters will be bitten". 

 

Mumbles rippled around him, alongside wide eyes and open jaws. Perhaps a few months ago, they would have asked for his autograph. But right now, with Loeb out for Geckoblood, and this being her trap, they were more reticent. 

 

"Champagne, Sir? All on the house tonight, courtesy of Ms. Loeb" said the Matre'd, a tall thin man with sharp eyes. 

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman wasn't hugely satisfied with the sweep. Too many people, too much existing security. Also, wasn't this place meant to be run by vampires? Literal ones, not rich businessmen? Clearly not a place which'd be on his side.

 

He casually spun on his heels to face the Maitre'd. He kept swishing his heels from side to side as he looked the man up and down. "Ah, very kind of her," he said, brazenly not meaning the compliment in the slightest. He took the glass from the man, and raised it to his lips, but didn't drink more than the slightest trickle going past his lips. "Is her, ah, interviewer here yet? I assume you'd know the seating arrangements better than I."

[Supercape]

GM

 

"She is indeed Sir" said the unflappable Maitre'd, pointing with a remarkable display of decorum and accuracy, with a nod, and a subtle one too, at the opera booth above, where the delectable Sasha Shots sat. 

 

Her black hair was slicked back, short to medium length. Brown eyes shone, which was an impressive feat for brown eyes. She crossed her legs, revealing an immodest amount of tanned, toned, and flawless thigh. 

 

She raised her champagne glass to the Rogue Reptile, the man she had been studying with opera glasses. 

 

"Would Sir care to join the madam?" she asked. "I could also take your order for any fine wine or appetiser you may wish, again, on the house...."

 

He gave the snooty and distinct impression that only fine would do. And any poor vintage or cheap cookery would be met with a polite upturn of the nose. 

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman turned to look up at Sasha Shots and gulped. It took him a good moment to get his eyes high enough to notice she was watching him with opera glasses. "Welp," he said, utterly deadpan, and knocked back the glass in his hand in one go. 

 

He handed the glass back to the Maitre'd. "Well, sir," he said slowly. He dragged his eyes over to actually look at the man. "That wine seemed fine enough, but ultimately the arts of cuisine are really much more your area of expertise than mine, I wouldn't hope to have the profession you have." Geckoman tapped his forehead and nose. "Simply lack your knack for it, I suppose. Please, I am sure whatever you would recommend, my good man, would be entirely satisfactory." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Nothing too heady, we may be a while."

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Haumph, well if Sir would permit me" said the Matre'D proudly "I would recommend the Pinot Noir, 1988 Languedoc Cote LeHoelsher. It goes very well with peppered steak, sealed rare, and has a rich complex earthy taste, layered with winter fruits and a slight spring leaf aftertaste, all tempered with a fine oak" he explained, reeling off a few more impressive facts about sediment, body, and the region and soil quality of the grape. 

 

"And now, let me introduce you to..."

 

Ms Sasha Shots, in the Opera Booth...

 

"Mr Man. Mr Gecko Man, pleased to meet you. Please do take a seat" smiled Ms Sasha Shots, smiling with blood red lipstick and mascara. She bent in just the write places moving her arm like a ballet dancer, displaying both lithe flexibility and a barely modest  cleavage. 

 

"Ms. Loeb thought you wouldn't show up. I thought better. How could you...resist?" she asked, sipping her own wine and smiling generously. 

 

"I hope you like Steak. And gambling..." she commented, savouring each word like it was indeed a finely cooked slice of meat. 

[Ecalsneerg]

"Well, your boss has made a career out of being wrong," drawled Geckoman, smiling and sitting down. "And Geckoman's fine, we don't need the Mister." He leaned back in his seat.

 

This was clearly going to be bait to sell papers. Threat or Menace, what kind of crap was that? "Besides, the superhero community still look up to Johnny Rocket. We'll happily have your boss spending money on us rather than on trying to destroy us." He turned to accept a glass of wine from a waiter, and to thank him. He took a sip from the glass, and tilted his head appreciatively. "Anyway, say I convince you of my utter harmlessness, and frankly, look at the outfit. Your boss will print I'm a threat. Say I turned around and attacked the whole room. Your boss will print I'm a threat. Every single action, one outcome." He took another sip.

 

"As it happens, I do enjoy gambling, Ms Shots. This interview isn't a gamble, the house has fixed the outcome. The variable here is if you know that or not."

[Supercape]

GM

 

Sasha smiled a lethal smile, and crossed her lethal legs. And crossed them again. And then cr...but no, the third was just a whispering tease of movement to keep the eyes alert. 

 

"Oh, I don't think we need worry too much about all that Menace or Threat headline. You are smart enough to know its going to be printed anyway" she said, pouring herself an immodest measure of champagne and applying it immodestly to her immodest lips. 

 

"So relax and enjoy the steak. I hope you like it rare? It really is top class food here!" she commented as she clicked her fingers for Matre'D came to them. 

 

"*Ahem* May I take your order, Madam and Sir?" he asked politely, without pen or paper, trusting his experienced memory. 

 

Something about the subtleties of the way he pronounced Madam indicated his opinion of her had slipped ever so slightly in favour of the Green Crusader. 

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman pursed his lips and scanned the menu. "Hrm. The steak does look good..." He traced one finger down the menu. "That'd do it. Steak." He put down the menu and grinned widely. "Steak and chips!" 

 

He waited for the waiter to take the reporter's order, and leave with their menus. "Well, Ms Shots. We've established we both know the reason for calling this was largely a pretence, and your editor doubted I'd show. So let me ask you, what was your motivation for showing up here? There must be less high profile ways to have fun with the expenses account."

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Steak and...Chips....Very good Sir, excellent choice. I take it you would like our hand cut double roasted potato wedges then?" said the Matre'd, the roller coaster of his loyalties slipping slightly away from Geckoman. "And how would you like Chef to cook your steak?" he added, politely. 

 

"<Oh don't mind my Green friend, Monsieur>" laughed Sasha to the waitress in an easy manner. Either she was a very good actress, or she genuinely loved the situation in an easy manner. Or both. 

 

"I like a good story, Geckoman. That's why I came here. To get to know the man behind the mask! You must have a fascinating life. Do you think I could peek behind the mask?"

[Ecalsneerg]

"Saignant, s'il vous plaît.," Geckoman said to the waiter, smiling politely. Why did people always assume he didn't speak French? He spoke great French! "Et oui, cales de pomme de terre." He waved a finger at the table. "Pourrais-je avoir un peu de pain pour la table? Merci." To hammer it in, he turned to Ms Shots, and asked, "Que prenez-vous?"

 

"Well, depends what you mean by peek behind the mask?" said the superhero smugly. He took a sip of wine. "Would that count?" He reclined back in his chair. While it'd be to his advantage to maintain a pretence of only speaking American, as he liked to do to mess with Erik, he didn't like the notion of them talking about him in posh places. At least while he was right there.

 

 

*: Translations - "Very rare, please." "And yes to the potato wedges. And could I have some bread for the table? Thank you." "What are you having?"

[Supercape]

GM

 

"So you speak French? Enchante!" smiled Sasha. "I must take you to Paris one day. Such a Romantic City, do you not think? Perhaps a river boat, with champagne and oysters. Perhaps a night at the Moulin Rouge..."

 

"Ah here comes our starters!"

 

Sasha had preordered. Perhaps predictably, oysters, and a variety of accondiments. 

 

"mmm...are you sure you would not like to try one?" she said, gulping the first down. 

 

"Well I would love to see you with those goggles off. They hide your good looks" she said, huskily, from the oyster or...perhaps just huskily. "But also...what kind of man are you? Brave? Stupid? In love with spandex? How did you come to gain the proportional strength and agility of a Gecko? Did a radioactive one bite you?"

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman squinted at the oyster. "No, thanks." He didn't like the look of the wet, slimy things. How was that an aphrodisiac? And clearly the reporter wasn't aware he was dating a reformed supervillain. That was good, that resurfacing wouldn't end well for anyone. He was fairly certain if Liz was here she'd have already shot Shots.

 

"And I'm afraid the goggles stay on," shrugged Geckoman. "Not in love with spandex. The goggles, well, I just tell them I love them. And who would irradiate a gecko? The powers were... sort of an accident with some experimental... stuff."

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Thats pretty vague" said a dissapointed Sasha, pushing her oysters to one side. It seemed she did not like them easier. The wine slipped down her throat easily enough, however. And she made a point of pouring as much into Geckomans glass, and, by urging, into his mouth, as possible. 

 

"Science...stuff..." she said, waving her hand. "Well, science isn't really my field. People are, though. Come on! Give me a break. A morsel. You never know, Loeb might even print an oasis of truth amongst the venom tomorrow. What harm can it do? Sell a little story, get a little fame. Next thing you know, you can be endorsing your own shampoo!" she said with an easy smile and a possibly genuine laugh. 

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman gulped down some more wine. His system rapidly processed and filtered out toxins, he could keep up this pace for a while without it affecting him overly much. He smiled and flipped his unkempt hair around. "L'Oreagecko, because you're worth it?" He chuckled to himself. "C'mon, do you know how many years I've been doing this. I get advertising offers, you know."

 

He leaned back in his seat. "Listen, I'm not objecting to questions, but c'mon. I wear a mask. I don't use my real name. If you want to ask questions, you're going to have to be prepared for the fact that quite a lot of them, I won't answer. As a matter of fact, my powers come from a military-grade nanoserum which rewrites your DNA and cellular structure, one which isn't going to be replicated." He swished the wine in his glass back and forth lazily. "And I don't have the proportional strength of a gecko, I think. Science isn't really my thing either," he confessed. "How strong is a gecko?"

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Hrm, I have no idea. I suppose a super strong green hero would be a bit silly, huh? But I'll look it up tonight!" replied Sasha. More wine was ordered, a pinot noir of ludicrous expense, and then steak was served. A very good steak too. The High Steaks was not some cheap French Restaurant. It served the best steak in Freedom City. Taste buds were seduced. 

 

"Still at least I have got something out of you" she suggested, her tongue wallowing around her mouth. "I wonder what else you would care to divulge? What have been the highs and lows of your career?" she said, ensuring that Geckomans wine was always full to the brim of delicious and rich wine...

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman casually tossed the wine back. He didn't have the practice Ms Shots clearly did. Luckily, he had a hyper-efficient toxin filtration system as any impaired or damaged structures just got replaced with fresh, new, fully working ones. "Well, I think we both know what my low was. It's why we're meeting. A hospital got damaged, my reputation got smeared, a man's daughter is still sick and dying, and he's in prison for trying, even in a very, very, very wrong way, to try to save her. And your boss is happy about that. That's my low day." He leaned back in his chair. 

 

"Even on the days where people die, where the monsters come from outer space, or another dimension, or whatever. We beat them, and we win eventually. Nobody won this time. Nobody at all." He sadly drained the rest of his glass. 

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Shoot, thats you worth..I mean worst day?" said Sasha, the faintest of slurs in her words. She held it in well, but the wine was flowing like water. "You should come and work for a day on a daily paper. Its Hell on Earth, I swear. Deadline this, slander that...why, its enough to drive a woman to drink!" she said, taking her own advice with another generous glass of Merlot. She didn't spare Geckoman's glass from her liberal administration of the bottle. 

 

"Damn this, two lemon sorbet's and a thousand dollars in gambling chips!" she said, gaily, at the Matre' D, who politely nodded. "Oui Oui Madame, please, follow me!" he said with the slightest and faintest of sneers that escaped the tipsy Sasha's notice. 

 

And onto the Gambling floor they went...

 

With, predictably, two complimentary Vodka Martini's in hands, courtesy of the House. And strong ones too. 

 

"I want to get lucky tonight!!" she winked at Geckoman, sweeping her arm over the spectrum of gambling devices. "Whats it to be? Roulette? Craps? Poker! I looove poker!"

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman rolled his eyes when he was sure she wasn't looking. He was faiiiirly sure that getting shot was worse than a deadline. And eventually would lead to one. He was still holding up well under the continual flow of alcohol. He did have his limits, though, but there didn't seem to be a way to politely decline drinking until after he'd hit them, which was a concern. Didn't Erik say the key to drunken boxing was in not actually being drunk?

 

He, slightly unsteadily, eyed the various casino games. Now, this. This he could do. "I could try poker," he said off-hand. "I've got a good poker face. How about you, Ms Shots?"

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Sure, lets win some money...!" said Sasha Shots, excitedly. 

 

Some money later...

 

"Two more vodka martinis!" yelled Sasha, getting angry. The cards had not gone her way. But, to be fair, her skill in poker was limited. She had a tendency to throw good money after bad, refusing to loose. A reporters personality, perhaps. It suited the pool of sharks that was the world of media, but in poker, it was the worst and first mistake to make. Chips flew from her hands like bullets from a Gatling Gun. 

 

"I don't know what you are looking so smug about mister!" she said with an ill coordinated wink and snarl at Geckoman, who sat - could it be said smugly? - behind double the amount of chips he had started with. 

 

Poker face - My po - poker face! oh - oh oh oh - oh...sang some pop star in the background. 

 

"At this rate, you will be taking me out to dinner tomorrow night too, at the Geckomansion, or whatever your secret base is called...say, what is your secret base called? the Geckocave? The Geckocastle? The Geckolair?" she said, he words tumbling out a little slurred. 

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman reclined smugly in his chair. Well, partially due to smugness. Part of it was due to the fact that in alcohol versus healing factor, the alcohol was starting to edge in. He swept a hand, indicating his great stack of chips. "This. This is why I'm looking smug. You need to be less forward, need to know when to edge back a bit before going in again."
 

"At this rate, you will be taking me out to dinner tomorrow night too, at the Geckomansion, or whatever your secret base is called...say, what is your secret base called? the Geckocave? The Geckocastle? The Geckolair?" she said, he words tumbling out a little slurred.

"See, exactly what I'm talking about," said Geckoman, in faux exasperation. "It's no fun to be all forward, all the tiiime." He frowned. "And Arborealair. I don't preface everything with Gecko. That'd be ridiculous!"

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Pfah!" humphed Sasha, clearly drunk. Or an giving an oscar-worthty performance of one. It took a lot of drink to knock a hard boiled, hard living reporter off her feet, but the alcohol had been sloshed around most liberally that evening. 

 

"I'm a damn reporter! I live to be forwards!" she said, appropriately. She leaned far too heavily into Geckoman, showing a generous slice of decolletage. The alcohol on her breath served as a nice sickly juxtaposition to the softness of her bosom and plunging neckline. 

 

"I want some green love!" she demanded, her inhibitions totally dissolved in her ethanolic blood. 

[Ecalsneerg]

Geckoman, even in his state of inebriation, reacted quickly, catching Sasha before she slid past him and onto the floor, one hand on her shoulder, the other steadying her on her waist. His eyes wandered downwards. "Woah..." Huh. Bbbbbb... best he nipped this in the bud. She was... pretty drunk.

 

"... woahoah. C'mon, Ms Shots, I think you've had enough." He motioned to take her arm. "How about we get you sat down somewhere and call you a cab?"