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Champagne Shenanigans [IC]


Supercape

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"Years of practice, liebchen," Archeville replied to Fulcrum while raising his glass to hers (he'd set the one he got form Fassbinder aside on a table earlier). "As for fans of your artwork, well," he smirked and shrugged, "even if there are not any currently here, I am sure that is only because they have not yet had the chance to marvel at your artwork!"

Why would she not? Her artwork is awesome!

Victory's request was met with a smile, "of course I would be happy to help you, Lieutenant! I do not know what sort of flares you have on you, or what our esteemed host has in his cabinets, but I am certain I can whip up something! I believe I can come up with some stirring music to accompany, too! Mona, dear," he turned to his amazonian amour, with a very mischievous glint in his eye, "would you be willing to help in this worthy artistic endeavor?"

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Miss Americana withdrew a pocket-sized package of tissues from her purse and passed one to Bombshell, a slight smile on her face at the interplay between the two women. "Now ladies," she said mildly, "this is supposed to be a happy occasion. I'm sure you know," she told Joan, "that Ms. Browning has a right to be upset about having her relationship brought into the public eye, her motivations questioned, and aspersions cast upon her decision to reform herself. It was not a flattering article, and not intended to be."

Miss A turned to Talya. "And I'm sure you know," she continued with the same smile playing about the corners of her mouth, "that the article did nothing but increase your popularity and bring your costumed identity back into the public eye after many years on the quiet. And since I very much doubt either you or the Scarab are weak-willed enough to have your relationship dictated by outside forces, Ms. Collier did you nothing but a favor. Perhaps you two could simply live and let live, and enjoy a lovely evening."

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Fulcrum smiled happily and clinked her glass to his own.

She had been somewhat leery of showing Viktor her work. Not for lack of ability. She didn't consider herself a Monet by any stretch of the imagination, but all the same, his initial over-enthusiasm at her chosen career had seemed a bit off. Realistically, and what she didn't mention to him, was that she didn't want him pulling any special strings for her sake. Worse yet, perhaps offering to buy up her catalog. Yes, he may have just tried that. Not that she wouldn't be flattered. All this raced through her mind as Victory approached.

Fulcrum shook Victory's hand firmly and smiled wide, "A pleasure to meet you, Victory. My name is Mona, but most people call me Fulcrum." She didn't mention his solid grip and listened to the proceedings. Cocking her head to side, she smirked a little and chuckled, "I'd be more than happy to help."

Glancing toward their host, she added, "If of course Mr. Fassbinder, and Victory, don't mind, of course. Hmm..." Thoughts raced across her face.

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Victory's grip isn't something he's always aware of himself, but he tries to keep it down a s much as he can when he's not punching someone or lifting up a tank or anything along those lines. The fact that he can hold champagne flutes without destroying them is a testament to that. But still, his handshake is a potent one.

Smiling, Lance nods, and motions to the door he came back in from. "I was talking to him out there, and the crew setting up the fireworks isn't far. I'm sure he wouldn't have any problem with any extra help, but we might as well ask him. I, for one, will take any help I can get, since I'm the one who's gonna be up there."

As he starts to get ready to go back, he turns to the extremely tall guest again. "By the way, on your way in, did you see any footprints smashed into the ground? I was hoping I didn't damage his entryway too much with my big entrance..."

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"You only say 'no harm' because there were no recordings of the Scarab the next morning. I however, did have a ring side seat," Talya said dryly as she accepted the tissues with a smile of thanks. She pulled one out and turned towards the mirror to blot the edge of her lipstick but her gaze stayed tauntingly on Joan in the mirror, her lips quirked in a small smirk, "Although I'm sure she made her thoughts known far and wide eventually. She generally does. It is part of her unique charm, after all."

Talya's smile widened and she tilted her head to the side, "I have no hard feelings. I'm quite used to bad press with my history. Considering some of the articles, it was downright benign..."

She pivoted slowly, resting her hips against the bathroom counter and shifting so that the slit widened to display one toned thigh. As she was quite aware that neither woman would likely be interested, she was only doing it to be provoking, "But I never pegged you as the type to retreat. Aren't you going to ask me questions? I didn't even get to verbally fence with you the first time around. Not sporting at all."

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Joan folded her arms (well, some of them) imperiously as she stood in the door, which surely would have been a terrible inconvenience if anyone had wanted to use the ladies room at that moment. "I think you're broadcasting everything I need to know right now. As for the article, my mistake was understandable, or so the other party in the case told me. I spoke to the Scarab after the article was published. I told her my motivations, she explained the situation to me. We parted on good terms." And for what it was, that was certainly true enough. "The message of the article was valid. Superheroes need to be held to a higher standard. You can play the flirty femme fatale con-artist-cum-cat-burglar with a heart of gold all you want. But you shouldn't be surprised if the woman on the street just treats you like a con."

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"Well, there you go," Miss Americana told Talya with a shrug, her voice dust-dry. "She's only thinking of the children. I'm not entirely sure how publicizing a relationship that nobody would've known about otherwise just to wag her finger at it is going to help the kiddos any, but you never know." She took back her tissues, then tucked them away in her purse along with the high-tech hairbrush. "How private do we have to keep our private lives, Ms. Collier, before you'll stop publishing them as titillating and subscription-boosting cautionary tales?" she asked, looking at the reporter in the doorway.

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Etain smiled and gave another curtsey to Corbin as he headed to the drink table once more. However the noticable lack of camera people there made her much more comfortable about her letting him go. Instead they all seemed much more focused on the amazoness who was talking to the large metal man and that other person whom she did not know but from a distance still looked off. She walked away from there and instead headed over to the table where they were keeping the other foods stuff.

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"I've never had a heart of gold, actually. I once had a star made out of diamonds but I had to put it back. It's alright, those thing are the absolute devil to display properly. Need all sorts of light to really show off the facets." Talya said, looking amused at the exchange between the two women. She hadn't expected Miss Americana for an ally. It was an interesting take on the whole thing. She smiled and shrugged slightly, "Put on the costume, you really do invite the press into your lives. That, I do have to concede."

She straightened slightly, putting one heeled foot on the ground, her expression sobering, "This one, however, I will give you for free. No matter how shiny clean a hero is or how much a rogue they play themselves out to be, you only get to see that mask. You only ever see one fragment of the people we are and we wear masks not just to protect our identity - but to remind you of that fact. Don't trust me. Don't ever trust me entirely. It's the smartest thing you can do."

Talya glanced over and smiled, "I think we were just finishing up in here. You know. Girl talk."

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"I know I was just leaving. Good afternoon, ladies. Ms. Browning." And with that, Joan excused herself past Mrs. Hughes and headed straight outside, grabbing a drink and walking out onto the lawn just outside the big house. Standing up to the incredibly strong personalities of Talya Browning and Miss Americana had been tough enough to make a normal reporter sweat, and Joan herself was certainly feeling the strain. Like dealing with an angry Hachiman and the Supra-Models all rolled into one. Maybe I am getting too old for this business. Or too cranky. She sighed, staring up at the stars overhead. It's the kraken in me, she decided. You bait me, I'll try and pull you under. I should use that line again sometime.

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"I would ask, ma'am, that I have the honor of a dance with you after a short while. I feel it's the best I can do to make up for bumping into you. But first..."

"Until later, ma'am."

It appeared that chivalry was alive and well in Freedom City; Estelle watched Corbin and Etain (their names alone told you they were scions of American nobility) glide across the floor and smiled.

Ah, to be young and wealthy! ;)

A little while later, she noticed him getting a drink, and she approached him with a warm smile.

"I believe you owe me a dance, young man." She extended her hand gracefully. "I'm Estelle de Havilland; a pleasure to meet you."

"So, without further ado, because we all like some pretty lights, lets have some go outside for some gin and what I hope will be a magnificent display!"

After their host made his announcement, she quickly ordered a glass of wine and indicated the French doors leading outside. "Well, it appears our dance must be postponed; would you be kind enough to escort me outside for the fireworks?" Her tone was carefully chosen, friendly without being flirty and entirely appropriate to Corbin's obvious youth.

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Felix checked with the dancers, electricians, animal handlers and firework crew. All was set.

He gave Victory a friendly pat on the back "Give 'em hell, son!" he winked.

He grabbed a loudspeaker and mounted the hired elephant. With a flick of his hand, some oppressive German opera started booming out of the outdoor speakers, and two dozen dancers and animal handlers proceeded into the garden. Felix followed, atop his elephant, two glamorous glitzy showgirls on either side of him.

"Ladies and Gents! For your viewing pleasure and visual delight! Prepare yourself for a feast of light!!!"

"But first, a round of drinks, dancers, and animal tamers! Cheers" he roared, swishing down an ostentatious vodka martin as the dancers began to spin like whirling dervishes and the animals started performing their tricks in the gardens.

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A little while later, she noticed him getting a drink, and she approached him with a warm smile.

"I believe you owe me a dance, young man." She extended her hand gracefully. "I'm Estelle de Havilland; a pleasure to meet you."

After their host made his announcement, she quickly ordered a glass of wine and indicated the French doors leading outside. "Well, it appears our dance must be postponed; would you be kind enough to escort me outside for the fireworks?" Her tone was carefully chosen, friendly without being flirty and entirely appropriate to Corbin's obvious youth.

Corbin turned to face Estelle, swallowing the last bit of food he'd picked up a few moments ago. Wiping his hand on a napkin, he then extended it to shake hers with a firm grip.

"Corbin Alphonse Hughes, and I daresay the pleasure is all mine."

He gives her a slight bow, offering her his arm. He declines offers of any drink, and simply works to escort them out.

"This is certainly the most...unique...party I've been to in, well, ever."

His eyes flicker here and there, taking in all the myriad attendees. They rest for a moment on his father, waiting near the women's restroom. They exchange nods, his father holding a bit of a smirk, and Corbin a touch of a blush.

"I'm sure my folks will be happy I'm interacting with women in a formal setting like this. Not exactly my forte just yet."

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It wasn't long before Sarah returned from the inner recesses of the bathroom, making a beeline for the sink. As she washed her hands, she regarded the other females in the room. A couple of times, she seemed almost ready to speak, asking a question, making an observation, or who knows what. Each time, it died before she made a sound. Finally, her time at the sink was done, and she turned to face them both. She gave a respectful incline of her head to them.

"I hope you two continue to enjoy the evening." Her tone was sincere, even...sympathetic?

She exited the door, quickly rejoining her husband.

"There you are, honey. Look, Corbin's over with Estelle de Havilland. Maybe he can get a few juicy news tidbits."

"Are we thinking of the same son?"

"Well, mostly just what she's doing of late. He might be more of a historian, but he's not disinterested in other subjects."

"Albert, he's here to learn how to socialize, and maybe even have fun. Don't try to make him an official schmoozer yet."

"Yes dear."

With a smile, Albert kissed his wife on the cheek, before twining her arm in his and joining the crowd walking outside.

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"Mr. Hughes, Dr. de Havilland," said Joan politely as she joined Corbin and Estelle for the walk out to see the show. "I'm Joan Collier with the Herald. It's a pleasure to meet both of you," she said, giving a quick, firm handshake to both. "I'm covering the society beat for Fletcher Beaumont this evening. Isn't this a lovely party Mr. Fassbinder is throwing?" she asked gaily, by all appearances the perfect, if slightly plastic, society journalist. "And with the government providing the entertainment. He must have even more friends in high places than we knew about!"

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Corbin offered his free hand to Joan, a pleasant smile on his face.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Collier. It's definitely a one-of-a-kind party. He seems to be making sure it's exciting and fun, rather than just people standing around socializing. The fact that all these spectacles will keep the photographers busy is only a plus."

A slight frown passes over his face, before being replaced with thoughtfulness.

"The government? Really? I thought all these performers were hired directly. How is the government involved?"

He seems honestly curious.

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"This is certainly the most...unique...party I've been to in, well, ever."

Estelle nodded in agreement as she walked beside him, arm in arm.

“Mmm, indeed; Felix seems to be determined that it will be the talk of the season. As extremely ostentatious shows of wealth go, I would rate it quite highly.†;)

"I'm sure my folks will be happy I'm interacting with women in a formal setting like this. Not exactly my forte just yet."

The lovely blonde smiled, happy to be part of the young man’s socializing experience.

“It will all come in time, Corbin, I assure you; luckily, your parents appear to have brought you up well, seeing as courtesy, respect and civilized conversation come naturally to you.†She shook her head in dismay. “You’d be surprised how many individuals in the moneyed set are bores, snobs and intellectual poseurs with no manners and absolutely nothing to say.â€

"I'm Joan Collier with the Herald. It's a pleasure to meet both of you," she said, giving a quick, firm handshake to both. "I'm covering the society beat for Fletcher Beaumont this evening. Isn't this a lovely party Mr. Fassbinder is throwing?" she asked gaily, by all appearances the perfect, if slightly plastic, society journalist. "And with the government providing the entertainment. He must have even more friends in high places than we knew about!"

Estelle responded with her own warm practiced smile; she was not a huge fan of Ms Collier, though she did agree with her on several points. She could only imagine what the somewhat prickly reporter thought of her brief affair with Moira. Her handshake was almost equally quick and firm.

“A pleasure as well, Ms Collier. I must say, I’m somewhat surprised to see you here, though; surely the society column is not your preferred beat?â€

"The government? Really? I thought all these performers were hired directly. How is the government involved?"

Estelle’s brow furrowed slightly. “I think she may be referring to the presence of Victory, seeing as he works for AEGIS. Is he to be part of the performance? I must say, that would be memorable!â€

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"He's a government-assembled cyborg," agreed Joan. "I've met several models of a similar design in Japan, but he's among the first to be presented openly to the public in the United States. That's where I first met you, Dr. de Haviland," she added, "when I was writing for the Japan Times. But I doubt you'd remember me. That was a crowded press conference," she added with a thin smile. Shooting a look at Corbin, she added, "Yes, I saw you were having some trouble with those paparazzi. Ghastly stuff, not the sort of thing you'd expect to see in a credible newspaper. Did they give you any reason why they were harassing you?"

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"Oh, our esteemed host already asked if I would assist with the fireworks," Archeville replied to Fulcrum and Victory, "so I do not believe we need to ask for any further permission, and can go directly to the pyrotechnicians already outside."

Hrm, there seems to be some commotion by the ladies' room. Such a mysterious place...

"If we are to go out there now, though," he continued, grinning as he pulled aside his suit's vest to reveal the circuitry-patterned Gravimetric Belt we wore as a cummerbund, "why not do so in style? Let me see, total weight would be... 151 pounds for me... 600 pounds for Victory... for Fulcrum..." He chuckled slightly while making adjustments to the device, and winked at her, "I will never tell. Alright, gather close, please."

They both felt a tingling sensation, and a tiniest bit of vertigo. Archeville called out to their host, before he'd done his "lead the guests out by elephant" act. "Herr Fassbinder, we are going to see to the fireworks. We will be sure to make them memorable!" As soon as Fassbinder -- and anyone else interested in seeing who was calling to the host -- turned to look at Archeville, he and his companions had disappeared in a blue-grey swirl of light.

I may know how to make an entrance, but I definitely know how to make an exit!

Once at the fireworks station, the trio set to work. Fulcrum used her superhuman speed to both design several colorful displays -- some featuring the images of some of Freedom's famed superheroes -- and mixing up some additives for his fuel so his contrails would be different colors, a task akin to mixing paints. Archeville worked on coding a GPS path for the cyborg so he'd know exactly where to fly, and mixed up a few particularly brilliant fireworks which he could deliver while in flight. "These will be fantastic!"

Such fun!
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Victory waited patiently for Fulcrum and Dok to get the necessary adjustments for him, taking a good look at the night sky. It's clear tonight. That always helps. It'd be a shame to do this with an overcast. While he waits, he removes his suit piece by piece, being very careful not to damage any of it, since he doesn't actually own any of it. Normally he just explodes his clothes off, but these are pretty pricey. After he removes his jacket, shirt, and undershirt, he lets the armor routine start up, and in a moment all the fleshy parts of his body get covered in his armored shell...which also means that his "decency" is retained when he takes the lower half of his suit off. Folding it all carefully and placing it on a table, he pops out the various boosters and all, and opens a hatch on his hip.

"That's where the fuel goes..." He also moves his left arm, and a panel flips open. "And you can put the trajectory in through there. My body will know what to do..."

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Estelle nodded in agreement as she walked beside him, arm in arm.

“Mmm, indeed; Felix seems to be determined that it will be the talk of the season. As extremely ostentatious shows of wealth go, I would rate it quite highly.†;)

Corbin gave a soft chuckle.

"Extremely ostentatious? Yes, I think that applies rather handily.

"I'm sure my folks will be happy I'm interacting with women in a formal setting like this. Not exactly my forte just yet."

The lovely blonde smiled, happy to be part of the young man’s socializing experience.

“It will all come in time, Corbin, I assure you; luckily, your parents appear to have brought you up well, seeing as courtesy, respect and civilized conversation come naturally to you.†She shook her head in dismay. “You’d be surprised how many individuals in the moneyed set are bores, snobs and intellectual poseurs with no manners and absolutely nothing to say.â€

Corbin had the grace to blush a bit at this compliment.

"Um...Thanks. I guess that is a good start. Mom would probably smack me upside the head if I was needlessly rude, especially to a lady. Not that I would be, I wager. Just...goes against what they taught me, you know?

The only bad part is my expertise isn't as current as some people here. Well, okay. I know a bit about business. But I really like history and such."

Then, Joan enters the scene.

Estelle’s brow furrowed slightly. “I think she may be referring to the presence of Victory, seeing as he works for AEGIS. Is he to be part of the performance? I must say, that would be memorable!â€

"He's a government-assembled cyborg," agreed Joan. "I've met several models of a similar design in Japan, but he's among the first to be presented openly to the public in the United States. That's where I first met you, Dr. de Haviland," she added, "when I was writing for the Japan Times. But I doubt you'd remember me. That was a crowded press conference," she added with a thin smile. Shooting a look at Corbin, she added, "Yes, I saw you were having some trouble with those paparazzi. Ghastly stuff, not the sort of thing you'd expect to see in a credible newspaper. Did they give you any reason why they were harassing you?"
Corbin blinks.

"He wasn't in a uniform or anything. I mean, I don't doubt that his job and such is with the military. But that doesn't mean that "the government is providing the entertainment", not per se. Wouldn't it be better to see if he's here in an official or unofficial capacity, and if he was contracted to provide the entertainment, or if he just volunteered. Or got sucked in by Felix's...exuberance. That way, you can be sure to report the facts, rather than conjecture. After all, the implication of what you said goes deeper than just party arrangements."

Corbin has a thoughtful frown on his face as he rolls it around in his head.

"AEGIS, though...I bet that's where he got the, ah, "upgrades". Wonder how it came about..."

Corbin then looks back at Joan at her question about the photographers. He then looks around, shooting a glare at their turned backs (especially Tex's), before turning to face Joan again.

"The guy in a bolo tie nabbed photos of me after a couple...well, less sophisticated women-"

'Brainless bimbo floozies' he thinks privately.

"-ambushed me and threw themselves on me, just to get pictures taken. I asked him to delete the pictures, since I hadn't given permission. He said he was getting paid for pics, and had First Amendment rights, and stuff like that. I mean, I can appreciate the Bill of Rights, don't get me wrong. But it feels like he's violating the spirit when he exploits people like that. Victory and my friend Etain kind of helped break things up, but...well, you probably saw, along with half the crowd here. Anyways, I'm just giving Ms.-excuse me, Dr.-de Haviland the company I felt I owed her. I still owe her a dance after a bit. Least I could do after spilling her drink."

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Joan listened to the boy natter about how she should be talking about the government cyborg and felt pity, then anger. Criminy, is that how they teach kids to talk at Claremont? I thought that was supposed to be an elite prep school, not just another diploma mill for poorly socialized children of the elite. Maybe he's a legacy, she thought, and that nice Erin girl I met is a scholarship candidate. I'll have to do more research. If he was ten years older, I'd rip his skin off, but I'm not going to get in trouble with Fletch because I got into a fight with a stupid kid. She hmmed inside, still listening as the boy went on and on about being polite to ladies and the mean old journalists who dared take a picture of the underage boy partying with scantily-clad adults at an alcohol-fueled party for the rich. God, just think, in twenty years, he could be President, and Lois could be getting drafted to go fight whatever war his rich backers want our children to fight. Don't do it, baby!

"That's very nice, Mr. Hughes," she said, all daggers in her smiles. "I'm going to go talk to Ms. Loeb over there in the corner," she said politely as she left the pair behind. "You have a lovely rest of the evening."

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Corbin blinked, and lightly frowned.

"Did I say something wrong, Ms. Collier?"

As she left, he turned to Estelle, his face covered in honest confusion.

"Was it something I said? The bit about the photographers?"

'More like opportunistic exploiting sleezebags, but whatever. That wouldn't be polite in this context.'

He seems worried he caused offense within a couple of minutes.

"I didn't want to upset her, but those photographers were going to far. I didn't want those girls on my arms, or anything. Does she not believe me or something?"

'Surely she doesn't think I wanted those bimbos on me! Besides the disease risk, I can't stand people who are that kind of self-absorbed and flighty. Makes my skin crawl.'

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