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When its time to party we will party hard


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"Hey, I saw what happened there," spoke up Fletcher Beaumont IV, the former Claremont valedictorian having come up to Chris with a concerned look on his face. "You all right? You need something to settle down with?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," waved away Chris. "I just need to go sit down for a bit. Not really used to having crazy hallucinogenic mind powers used on me." He went to turn away, before stopping. "Hold on, didn't you used to go to Claremont? Did they have so many superpowered kids then who use their powers for poops and giggles?"

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Ace sighed with relief as the kid seemed to settle down it had been some tense moments before the object of his ire was removed fromt he scene. He'd have to commend whoever suggested music and dancing it seemed to have largly restored te damaged atmosphere after the various hijinks.

"Glad to see you're doing better Geckoman," he said matter of factly, "I have seen far older heroes act with less maturity truth be told. You have comported yourself well all things considered."

With that taken care of Ace bowed out with a murmered "Gentlemen" and turned to Phantom, "Would you care for this dance?" He held out his hand to the ephemeral heroine with broad grin.

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It would take a far more stalwart individual than Phantom to turn down Ace Danger at his own party. She grimaced slightly, internally cringing at her own deplorable lack of skills, before she lifted her chin once more almost defiantly.

With a slight smile, she solidified and placed one cool gloved hand in his. Once her booted feet touched the ground, she really had to look up at him and silently thanked the slight heel to the boot that gave her a little bit of a lift.

"How can I say no?" She asked with only a hint of irony and silently prayed that Ace would be good enough to make her look better than bumbling.

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Ace guides Phantom on the the floor and moves through the steps with an easy grace. With a gentle nudge here and there he guides the young heroine about the floor while taking in the other party goers activities.

Catching a glimpse of Scarab and Jack staring at one another he makes a note to check in with the crimson clad telepath about the young man.

Ace Turned his attention back to his partner once certain no further violence was emminent "Thanks for the back up," He said with a smile "Kids these days huh?" He added with a small shake of his head.

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He nodded and bowed to her. "No no. Thank you. It was a pleasure." He chuckled to himself and moved off the dance floor. Besides just the simple fun of dancing, it had been a good reminder. He needed that contact with people. He might not fit in that well, but it was definitely worth coming.

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"Kiyoshi Sen"

Grim bowed somewhat self-consciously, not knowing what else to do in such a situation.

"You have changed."

"You haven't."

What was in her tone of voice? Regret? Sadness? Some sort of apology? Her face was equally hard to read.

"I was not aware you could dance."

This made her smile, and she looked down at her tiny feet.

"Oh, I do okay, though now I'm thinking I might start taking lessons; you never know when you'll need to sweep someone off their feet, right?"

"Night Rival. Have you seen him?"

The young heroine's face clouds over.

"Once, back in April, right after I got back; he was at the shelter down in Southside, serving dinner out of uniform. We talked briefly, but....it's over, the two of us working together."

She shrugs.

"Maybe not for good, but for right now, at least."

She starts aimlessly tugging at her dress.

"It wouldn't work."

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"You haven't."

He remained silent but arched an eyebrow. What was that supposed to mean? His journey had unlocked his history and his power, was there more? Was there something he had missed?

The young heroine's face clouds over.

"Once, back in April, right after I got back; he was at the shelter down in Southside, serving dinner out of uniform. We talked briefly, but....it's over, the two of us working together."

She shrugs.

"Maybe not for good, but for right now, at least."

She starts aimlessly tugging at her dress.

"It wouldn't work."

He grimaced at her news and turned his head in frustration. He barely heard her words after. "I had hoped..." He shook his head. When last he had seen Night Rival they had just rescued his father, but they had gotten separated in the return voyage. Had he gotten that noble man killed?

He turned around to see the haunted pain in Grim's expression. For some reason he felt guilty, though he didn't think he had done anything to feel guilty about. "This must, surely be difficult for you as well." He stood there looking down letting the silence stretch, he began to feel uncomfortable for some reason. In sword play one must sustain the offensive if one was to succeed. He could not see which strike would serve him here. Perhaps a change in tactics. "Are these your friends?" He indicated the group standing there watching her. He didn't look at them so much as gesture.

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I never had a lot of heroes. Before I met you...ah, dangit, came Jack's mental voice, a tone of rueful amusement in his mind. Hard to leave things unspoken when you're not speaking aloud. Sympathy wasn't an easy emotion for him to feel, but it was hard not to sympathize with the magnitude of Scarab's loss. Everyone had lost something when the Centurion died, but the Scarab had lost a friend...even if she hadn't known it at the time. Jack would have continued if not for the presence he suddenly sensed at his hip, and turned to find himself facing the watchful gaze of Duncan Summers. The two men looked each other in the eye. "Hrm."

:bat: "Hrm." It was Jack who ultimately looked away first, nodding a polite parting to everyone else before heading over to the bar again. That left Duncan Summers in intimate proximity with his former ally, now in a new body. :bat: "Scarab. I would say you're taller...but it's more likely I've shrunk." He met Scarab's gaze levelly, only Heru-Ra's intimate familiarity with the man letting Elena see the smile tugging at the edges of Summers' lips.

Over on the other end of things, Fletch Beaumont was suitably sympathetic to the unhappy Geckoman. "Yeah, we had some punks back in my day," he said with the indulgent smile of a young man remembering his own not-very-long-gone high school days. "Ask Mr. Hawke sometimes if he remembers the time Kid Mesmo got his hands on the Mind Matrix. He won't," Fletch added, a wry grin on his face. "But Mesmo got what was coming to him anyway."

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Ace Turned his attention back to his partner once certain no further violence was emminent "Thanks for the back up," He said with a smile "Kids these days huh?" He added with a small shake of his head.

Ace's distraction with the party had given her time to focus on following his lead so that when he began making small talk, Phantom was able to look up from their feet and make eye contact under her cowl.

"Considering your lifespan, Mr. Danger, I think a great many of us might be included in that assumption," she paused for a twirl before adding with an amused chuckle, "Not that it makes it any less accurate."

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Ace looked down at the cowled heroine, "Well that may be a factor, but given the circumstances you are all therefore quite lucky I didn't just kick everyone off my lawn." He said with a smile.

He continued to move across the floor alert to any further trouble but more focused on his partner as the party seemed to have settled for the time being Pompador had yet to make another reapearance which may well be for the best, his agent would certainly be better equipped to spin the situation.

"In all honesty I hope the events haven't soured too many of these heroes on this kind of gathering." Ace spoke in light tones but it was clear his words had deeper meaning to him. "It may just be the impotant dreams of an old man," He smiled at his jest "But I had hoped to recover some of the comraderie that has been lost since the Moore act and the invasion."

He spun Phantom out and then back with an easy flowing movement then spoke, "The League has largly grown beyond concerns of the city and there are many independants and even a few smal teams that try and fill in but," He paused as if searching for the right word, "There is still no absolutes anymore, too many years of cut corners and mistrust I suppose."

He regarded Phantom carefully "We all have much more in common than we realize, too many petty differences like earlier tonight threaten that though." He added firmly as the song came to an end.

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Phantom's glowing eyes watched him curiously as he gave what sounded like a wonderful series of soundbites. He certainly sounded sincere, "Sadly, all jokes of age aside, most of the active heros around have never worked together on the scale of what you're talking about. I don't doubt their willingness to try but most have never been mentored in that sense. I think the individualism you speak of comes from a generation of heroes that are continuing on as they have had to learn. Alone."

She released his hand at the end of their dance with a faint smile and a slight bow that sent her cloak flaring, "I wish you luck with you dream."

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"This must, surely be difficult for you as well."

.....

"Are these your friends?"

Grim looks absently around at the faces, almost none of whom she really knew before tonight.

"No...yes. Sorry, I really don't want to talk about it."

She ducks away and makes a beeline for Ace Danger, a path that takes her closer to Phantom than she'd like; she's never closer than twenty feet, but she still feels her hackles rise just a bit. However, by the time she reaches the host she's all smiles again.

"Hello, hello! I guess I just can't stay away. Either you're too charming, or the mushroom puffs too tasty; still not sure which."

She wrinkles her nose playfully, but then gets a bit more serious.

"Actually I was hoping to talk, and if I learned nothing else from watching Pride & Prejudice over and over again, it's that talking and dancing go hand in hand, kinda literally."

She stops and thinks for a moment.

"Well, I also learned that Matthew Macfadyen is super-hot, but that's less relevant right now."

The young heroine shrugs.

"Anywho, you up for it?"

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"Thank you," Ace said as she turned away to the rest of the party once more thne under his breath "Hopefully its not just mine."

"Anywho, you up for it?"

Ace takes a bow that from anyone else woudl seem full of mock formality but some how works for him. "Enchanted my dear, I glady accept." He stands full upright and takes her hands in a firm but gentle grip as the music starts up once more.

Ace glides across the floor a gentle hand guiding the way for Grimalkin as they move to the slow beat of the waltz. "I'm glad you returned," He looked down kindly at the young woman and continued "You are correct the dance floor is an excelent place to speak but more specifically its a legitimate way to aviod the ears and eyes of your chaperone, though I think that is not your concern." He smiles an encouraging smile "So what did you want to discuss away from prying ears?"

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Sen watched her walk away, somewhat taken aback. I wonder whats wrong with her? Perhaps she had been drinking. Had he done something? He rubbed his chin between his fingers. Why had he come here? Was it truly just to look for Night Rival? Did he hope to find something else?

The sword at his hip "moaned". It wasn't audible, but he felt it. The sword felt threatened. He suspected that a room filled with heroes had something to do with that. He crossed the room, headed for a window. He felt like getting some air.

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:bat: "Scarab. I would say you're taller...but it's more likely I've shrunk." He met Scarab's gaze levelly, only Heru-Ra's intimate familiarity with the man letting Elena see the smile tugging at the edges of Summers' lips.

Summers could "hear" undertones ranging back and forth between genuine affection and playful sarcasm.

Very funny, Duncan. It's plain to see even under the new armor that I've lost several inches of height in this incarnation. But it is good to see that your battle scars haven't slowed you down too much.

By all accounts, Callie seems to be doing an excellent job picking up where you left off. Though I'd never in a thousand years have expected you to let her. Then again, I never would have expected that you off all people would take it upon yourself to take an entire generation of young heroes under your "wing." That always seemed to be more the Beaumonts' game. Has your hard heart softened in your old age? Have your students figured out that you're a big softy underneath all that glaring and growling?

The Scarab's telepathic banter grew more strained and brittle as it went on, before trickling down to silence. She looked down and held her face in her hand as she sighed.

I...I'm sorry, Duncan. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. When you all needed me. I should have been there. I just...this incarnation didn't fully Awaken until I was well into my twenties. I know that isn't much of an excuse, and I don't mean it to be...I heard that you and Callie hauled yourselves down here, even though you were walking with a cane...I just...I...

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Pompadour reluctantly followed Duncan out of the private rest-area. In Victorian times, such a salon was called a 'sulking room.' Pomp lurked in the recessed doorway for a few moments, his eyes followed Mr. Summers to where he now chatted with the Scarab.

Glancing around the room, Pompadour's eyes came to rest on a podium set up on a dais for making announcements and such, and tapped his fingers against his thigh for a few moments. Allowing his gaze to continue to wander, he spotted a discreet doorway that led to a service hall. He nodded to himself.

One swing of his hair brought him to the service door, and two strides took him into the corridor beyond. His Italian leather shoes clicked on the tiles, and he was already speed-dialing his agent.

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There was a mental silence from the former dark detective of the night, one matched by few other men. Scarab...you were a hero to the end. You forget, I was there. I came down from New York for Alexander's funeral. And of that poor kid Bob Barton. The images of a grieving Freedom League, of a grieving Freedom City, were sharp-edged in Summers' mind. You died to keep mad Egyptian sorcerer-cultists from using the Freedom League to summon a monstrous god into the world of the living. Don't diminish the good you've done because there was evil still in the world when you left it. I've never questioned your courage, or your heroism, or your honor. He reached over and clapped a hand on Scarab's shoulder, neither of them having spoken during the exchange.

As for Callie...she's her mother's daughter. For someone who knew Jasmine Summers, and who knew the way Duncan saw her, the words were description enough. The past is the past, Scarab. Let the heroes who came before us be remembered for the heroes that they were. I'd like to talk to you about the future.

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"So what did you want to discuss away from prying ears?"

The young heroine purses her lips in thought for a moment.

"Well right now it seems to me that the heroes in Freedom are all kinda staking out there own turf, either in terms of neighborhoods or like areas of specialty, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, really. But to be honest, sometimes it all make me think of a high school cafeteria; you've got your jocks, your cool kids, nerds and goths, all keeping to their own table. No one talks to each other."

Grim stops talking for a bit to just close her eyes and enjoy the dance.

"This is so nice; I wish I could've gotten my boyfriend to come along; we don't do this kinda stuff often enough."

She sighs and then opens her eyes.

"So where was I? Oh yeah. So I think we should, like, put our heads together and start tackling projects more directly. Like my thing to help girls down in the Fens get out of bad situations."

She leans in a bit closer as she gets more emphatic.

"The thing of it is, I know there's all kinds of community programs and whatnot that do the same thing, but a lot of girls are too scared to do something that out in the open. I think that heroes might offer a more, whaddya call it, discrete option."

Grim shrugs.

"I'm not sayin' I've got all the details worked out, and I think my ambitions definitely exceed my freshman high school education, but I just wanna get people talking, y'know? Get this out there."

The young heroine's big brown eyes show the strength of her passion.

"We can do so much more than just bust heads; we've got to. Because what where doing now? It ain't workin'. Am I right?"

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Ace listens carefully to what she has to say as they move about the dance floor. It is good to know his point has not been entirely missed in this endevor despite the disturbances earlier int he evening.

As grim draws her explanation to a close he nods thoughtfully for a moment. "You are of course correct there is alot more that can be done by heroes than bashing in heads." He glances past her to the assembled heroes around the hall old and young alike "But times have changed there isn't the trust in our heroes that we once had as a people." He looked back to Grim once more before continueing "Of course there is less trust ont he part of the heroes of the people as well."

"I do have some ideas for your personal project." Ace interjects "I'll look inot specifics and see if we can do something more in that regard at least."

He continues to move about the dance floor in silence for a moment "There has been a great deal lost that we don't even realize yet." Ace speaks almost looking his age for a moment, "Heroes are more than crimes stopped or lives saved. True heroes show what is best in each and every one of us, give us something more to strive fro no matter our power or lack there of." Ace looks into grims eyes as he continues "But who do we have now to look to in our time of darkness?"

Ace spins Grim outward as the last dulcet tones of the song echo in the hall and she finds herself staring at the memorial dispaly to The Centurion.

From behind her she hears a quiet voice "Ask your friends who they look up to now."

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Don't diminish the good you've done because there was evil still in the world when you left it. I've never questioned your courage, or your heroism, or your honor. He reached over and clapped a hand on Scarab's shoulder, neither of them having spoken during the exchange.

The Scarab returned Duncan's gesture. She smiled a little under her mask. See? I knew you'd gone soft. It's fatherhood that did this to you.

The past is the past, Scarab. Let the heroes who came before us be remembered for the heroes that they were. I'd like to talk to you about the future.

"The future...I'm listening." But if you mean rejoining the Freedom League, the answer is "No." They seem like a fine group of people. But they're not my group. Not my people. And I have a new team now. A smaller pond, but the fish are just as worthy. They just need a little guidance. They need me more than the League does.

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The League is in the past for us, Summers agreed. As I said, what I want to talk to about is the future. You are one of the few espers I've met who combines great psychic power with a solid moral foundation, not to mention uncounted lifetimes of memory. I could use you on my team again, Scarab. My psychic students need a teacher who can show them the potential, and dangers, of their powers. I have one in particular who I think could especially benefit from your guidance. Again, that smile tugged at the edges of his lips. I can't promise that we'll be as exciting as the "Knights of Freedom," but I think you'll find there are rewards to being an educator.

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I'm flattered by the offer, Duncan. And the sentiment. But I can't commit to any kind of regular schedule. What I can do, however, is privately tutor any of your students who need it, as my availability allows. Any of them who possess my "special skills." This sort of thing will work best one-on-one. Give me a call and we'll set up a meeting. I assume you still have the number. In fact, I suspect the only reason I didn't just come home to find you sitting at my command center is professional courtesy.

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I'm sure you've changed the passcodes in thirty years, thought Summers, modestly downplaying his own abilities as a sneak and safecracker. I'll have the information about working one-on-one with particular students passed along to you. As I mentioned, I have one student in particular who I think is particularly in need of your guidance. There was something like a low chuckle from his mind. I'll leave the rest up to your discretion. The worst threat you're liable to find there will be some of our students who are particularly enamored of the heroes of the past. I'll make sure you have your privacy. He was about to go circulate when something seemed to cross his mind. :bat: Oh, and give your friend my compliments. I've only seen that trick done better once before. Summers was too polite to press the point further. He had mellowed in his old age.

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Dark Star watched the dancers as well as the guests, slowly moving around and wandering aimlessly. He had no objective really. Just trying to be a little more social. He was glad he came despite the awkwardness.

But man, he'd really like a drink.

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"Ask your friends who they look up to now."

There are hints of tears in Grim's eyes as she stares at the figure of Centurion.

"God, I can't remember the last time I really looked up to somebody; well, there was Nightrival, but that...that's in the past."

She turns around to face of her impossibly young dance partner, and tries to see the age behind his eyes.

"I haven't...I've done things, bad things, things I'm not very proud of, but I think they've given me, like, insight into people's lives, into the way they struggle, and the things they're willing to do out of fear or desperation."

She looks over towards Scarab and the old guy with the cane.

"Since I've been with the Knights, I feel like I'm losing that connection; I don't want to leave them or anything, plus as Scarab said it's not like an exclusive club or anything."

The young shapeshifter suddenly grasps Ace's arms in a surprisingly firm grip.

"I am a weapon in the war on crime and suffering, but not like a club or a gun; I'm a scalpel that needs to be wielded by a professional, like a surgeon. I'm no good on my own, not yet."

Grim's face screws up as she tries to shape her thoughts into words.

"I'm not saying it has to be you, but if you could help me in any way, point me in the right direction; whisper a name or write an address on a slip of paper, something."

Her eyes once again show that intense passion.

"Help me be the tool I know I can be, that cuts out the sickness and makes the body whole."

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