Avenger Assembled

Jack swore, just once, and put his hand on Taylor's back. "We'll get those bastards," he assured her. "I'll come with you," he promised her. "There's no way they'll see me." He thought of Jackson, so warm and alive, so very human; he knew just how much Taylor loved him. "Do we have time to get anyone else?"

Jack was up on his feet when Taylor began talking, his face set as he heard the anger and fear in her words. "What is it?" he asked her, shutting easily aside the casual ease he'd been projecting before. "What's wrong?"

"Eye of the Tiger it is," said Jack with a smile. "I'll stick with my sports jacket, though." He asked the bartender for help with the karaoke machine, peering at the instructions carefully, before taking the mike in hand. He opted not to pay the extra money to have his performance recorded, reckoning there was no use looking for trouble. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said as he tested the microphone, "I'd like to send this one out to all the ladies in the audience, especially the lovely Taylor Chun. Here's to many more 21st birthdays!" And with that, as the music started, Jack burst into song!

I would like to place a wager here that this thread, if it goes off, will last until the birth of my son sometime in January of 2010. Judges? ;)

The sales room wasn't as packed as it might have been at a larger site like CastleCon, but there was something to be said for smaller booths and an smaller crowd. There were booths selling classic comics going back to a 1950s reprint of the Centurion's first adventure, toys and collectibles of equal vintage, right down to the familiar Ace Danger action figures from the Kenner line in the 1970s, and many many others. Familiar and half-familiar faces greeted the three friends as they headed into a forest of four-color pictures and plastic figurines. Thanks to the long line, it was a minute or two before they made out the last booth and picked out the voice of the merchant inside. "Come one, come all, to the first seller in town to market Knights of Freedom memorabilia!" called a seller dressed in a big Darth Solo shirt. "The favorite super-team of our guest of honor, Fleur de Joie! We've got Phantom capes, Fleur de Joie figurines, Avenger hockey masks, Divine togas, and the official Dark Star plushy!" The merchant held up his trophy high, a generic, mostly faceless stuffed-man figure covered in a soft black fabric covered in white sparkles. "Made right here in Freedom City by local merchants to pass the savings on to you!" Upon closer inspection, his table was covered in Knights 'merchandise', with a little something for everybody on the team that hadn't bothered to get their image legally licensed. That left Scarab and Ace free and clear, but everyone else seemed to have gotten swept up in the marketing craze.

When Taylor seemed more annoyed than actually frightened by Ace (a healthy response, in his opinion), Jack ignored his 'brother' and focused on Taylor. "I'll break the ice, then." He grinned at her. "Call it Present #2. Pick the song, and it's yours." He raised her hand to his lips and pecked it. "I can make no guarantees of skill, only of passion." He leaned close and murmured in a stage whisper, "Just don't say you've heard that one before."

Eventually the con organizers came to unlock the doors, letting the various college kids and fanboys into the small convention center adjacent to the Dome. Their visitors badge got them in easily enough, though the friendly man in the Foreshadow costume who scanned their badges before letting them in did give a significant look at the "Help a Hero!" jar on his desk. The sad-faced teenager whose picture was inside the plastic jar wore a bedraggled, obviously home-made costume, his glowing hands the only sign of his true power. There were several rooms to visit inside the center, where fortunately not everyone was in costume. There was a film room, currently showing reels from the old Freedom Friends show, advertising a subsequent showing of the "controversial anime classic!" Akataiyo: The Crimson Sun. Inside a room opposite were the merchants, a dozen-or-so stalls selling everything from comic book back issues to original hero merchandise. There was the art gallery and the game room, along with the seminar room where, peeking in the door, Stesha recognized Patrick Irons as he worked to help set up the chairs for the seminar on the half-hour. There were several large clay pots near the small table at the head of the room, each of them filled with dirt.

"Well..." Mark thought fast. "Mr. Danger, a friend of mine, and a friend of Phantom's, is in trouble," he hazarded a guess. "My friends and I are going in after him, but we're going to need Phantom's help to do it. I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't really, really important." There, that was suitably honest without betraying anything he knew about James. Come to think of it, no one had actually told him what was going on, but Mark was used to that.

The icy blast burst across White Knight's body, chilling him even through his coat of flame. As he reached for Archeville, despite the cold all around him, suddenly the whirling magnetic bolas struck him, cinching him tight and pulling him off his feet as they tied his arms to his midsection. "You forget, Archeville," spat the still-chilled Knight, "I still have these hostages. And I don't need my arms to BURN THEM. Back off right now, or I'll fry them all!"

"Mr. Danger!" Ace had heard plenty from Mark in the time they'd been working together. "I need your help with something. Do you have the contact information for Phantom?" Despite himself, melodrama was rapidly permeating his voice. "The fate of a good man's life may depend upon your next word!" Ace might have been more concerned if he didn't remember the unusual speaking pattern of the Lucas men. Mark talked that way about French fries.

Archer hmmed. "Well, you'll have a chance to prove your theory, Ms. Albright." He finished writing on his clipboard and said, "All right, I'll expect to see the two of you at noon sharp on Saturday. Go enjoy your afternoon, kids."

Jack sighed. Geez, Ace. Bride at every wedding, corpse at every funeral. The mental images summoned by that line of thought gave him a perfectly legitimate smile, though, and so he cheerfully clapped Ace on the back and boomed, "Bro! Good to see you!" He threw his arm around Ace's shoulder and lifted him off the floor with the sheer force of his hug. "Man, we've gotta get you doing reps again. I think you know everybody. Hey Derrick, hey Stesha." He turned back to Taylor, still smiling. "See, I knew my brother would come through in the end."

"Yeah, I do," said Mark quickly. "She helped Breakdown and I fight these SHADOW thugs a couple of weeks back. I didn't know she knew James." Mark hmmed. "I didn't catch her contact information, but...WAIT! I know who'll know!" And with that, Mark cracked open his cell phone and dialed the number he'd gotten from ACE DANGER, International Man of Intrigue and Mystery. "Why do we want to know>" he asked, just before hitting the last key.

Though their convention was technically in the Liberty Dome, as Patrick Irons had promised, the signs that pointed the way to the HBC convention led the way not to the massive college dome itself but a smaller, attached auditorium. The crowd was small on a weekend, the walk there didn't take much time at all. They were early yet, a little bit yet before the scheduled opening time of the convention, and a small scattering of college kids and superhero fans were waiting outside. Many of them were obviously cosplayers; there a Captain Thunder, here a Raven, and one Scarab. Everyone was standing around and chatting about the latest superhero gossip.

"Too late for what?" asked Mark, who'd just stuck his head in the door as he walked by. Why does everyone look so serious? "Is everything okay? What's going on?" He looked around and made a lucky guess. "Where's James?"

"That's because you have excellent taste in men," replied Jack, something of a shameless flirt given their usual romantic practices. When they were back in the car together, he leaned close and kissed her warmly, his arm around her shoulder. "I think you'll like the party," he promised her. "Everyone who should be there will be there." Even the ones I want to punch in the face.

"I'll tell you what," said Mr. Archer, looking up from his clipboard when he was finished speaking. "Since the two of you have these concerns, we can work together to address them. Why don't both of you report to me at noon on Saturday to write our own training session together? It shouldn't take more than a few hours. Erin, that can take the place of your usual weekend drill, there's no reason to make you do it twice."

"Arr!" Stunned by the sheer force of Archeville's blast, White Knight hurled backwards, slamming with a crash into the office ceiling. "You sorry excuse for a German! It's no wonder you people sold out the Fuhrer at the moment of his greatest triumph!" He hurled a ball of fire at Archeville, one that struck his forcefield dead on. "Burn!"

"Oh, really?" asked Mr. Archer mildly, all his attention focused on Alex. "In what way?"

Make that two HP, Doc. That does hit, and he is bruised.

As the doors slid open, the two girls were greeted by Mr. Archer, clipboard in hand. "Excellent work, you two," he said with a little half-smile. "Tell me what you think about what you did."

"Daytona Beach? Oh wow!" Mark pulled off his jacket, unabashed wonder on his face as he held it under his arm. "James, that is sooo cool." He grinned at his buddy. "I've never been here, I've just seen it on TV. Lead the way, man!" Exuberantly, he followed James lead as they went, taking pictures with the phone on his camera. "This is awesome."

"Well, Mike, look at it this way," said Mark, his anger softening even further before Mike's unhappiness. "At least you were angry with me, and not with Alex. I was pretty unhappy about that, but things could have been a lot worse. And they didn't turn out so badly in the end, anyway." He smiled a little. "I'll be okay. And so will you, and so will Alex."

"What was it she called them?" asked Mark suddenly. "The sternjuden." He shuddered a little. "Space Jews. I think she was talking about the Grue. That's what the Nazis called them. There was something about stealing technology from the Nazis, which the Nazis themselves had stolen from alien invaders." He rubbed his eyes. "Which makes sense, I guess. The Grue would be just as interested in conquering Erde as they were in our dimension."

Scarab is up. Should finish it up this round. Maybe. :D