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Meistermann dropped with a crunch, the Nazi falling gracelessly to the plane floor like a sack of savagely beaten garbage. "Woo-hoo!" exclaimed Edge, clapping everyone on the back in triumph. Everyone else was cheering too at the good work the heroes had done. "I guess he learned a valuable lesson about picking his battles." With a nod to his charge, he said, "And thanks for your help too, Princess. I'm sure your father will be very-hey!"

"Oh, my father will hear of THIS!" exclaimed Nina as she headed for the fallen Nazi, murder in her eyes. "When I present him this filthy piece of street trash to him in pieces! I will rip the blood from his body and use it to cut him apart one piece at a time!"

Before she could reach him, Edge intervened, reluctantly interposing himself between the two. He had a feeling appeals to sweet reason or heroic morals wouldn't work, so he settled for appeals to her intelligence instead. "If you do that, we'll never learn where he came from," he told her. "Or if he poses a threat to your kingdom. Nazis are tough to get rid of. You cut one down, two more rise to take their place..." He frowned. "Why would Nazis target you and your father, anyway?" While she talked, Edge took the opportunity to repair the plane, gesturing over at the wall to seal up the cracks left around Erin's repair. After all, they had a schedule to keep!

"They would target him because he is a great man!" Defensively, Nina crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. "All know that Typhoon is the mightiest ruler in all the Indian Ocean, a beacon of power and justice. There are many fools who would seek to tear down his glory, and your Nazis are the greatest fools of all." It was a very generous interpretation of the man given the dealings that Ace and Bombshell had had with him, much less the old League, but Nina evidently believed it. "But...I don't know specifically. I have been away for some months, and I am not privy to diplomacy when I am away," she finally admitted.

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Anyone looking away from Mark's questioning of the princess to take stock of the plane's first class section would find Midnight vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared, lending some eerie credence to the villain's assertion that he must be a ghost. A few moments later, as things were finally settling down, Trevor Hunter appeared from the doorway leading to the cockpit, steadying himself on the door frame and looking a little rattled despite his collected demeanor. "Pilots say we're almost there," he announced to the other passengers. "Should be fine to land."

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Ace produced a heavy duty looking pair of handcuffs with etchings of electronics along them from a pocket of his jacket with a dramatic flourish as Midnight vanished. "I may be a bit rusty on international law but I believe the French Authorities have first crack at this fellow." he said as he quickly secured the prisoner with hands behind his back. "Though I assure you the French will likely take just as dim a view as you of this fellows actions." he explained with a laugh, "There is some history there if memory serves." with a final twist and key entry there was a quiet hum as the nullifying cuffs kicked into action. Looking to Cannonade Ace gave a small nod, "Care to see to it that the prisoner is well looked after?"

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"Sure," said Cannonade, trying very, very hard not to get all fervid about receiving a request from one of his childhood heroes. "Keeping Nazis down is something I'm good at." He kept his eyes rooted on Meistermann, to ensure that he wasn't going to get back up anytime soon. For the rest of the flight, though, he had a feeling something was wrong.

There were a lot less public and lot less guarded places this idiot could've struck, he thought. So either he's as dumb as that costume makes him look, or he's just a distraction. Better be on guard when we touch down...

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On the ground in Paris, the bound, unconscious Meistermann was taken into custody by the French authorities. He was a tough nut to crack, even tougher than he'd been in the 1940s, but the French authorities had plenty of practice holding Nazis behind bars. As he was whisked away to the orbiting Bastille Suprême, Edge and his charge turned to the others as they deplaned. "I've got to get Princess al-Darsah to the Socotran consulate," he said apologetically. "But once she's there and we've passed this news onto UNISON, we can talk there. There's a lot to-" Mark was interrupted, however, by a noise outside as the heroes reached the concourse: there was a boom like a distant clap of thunder, and a darkness in the sky. As the tourists rushed to the concourse windows to exclaim and point amid a flourish of cellphone cameras snapping, Edge's eyes popped as he took in what he was looking at.

The Socotran flying cruiser looked like what it was: a World War II-era British destroyer repurposed with the advanced Socotran technology invented by Dr. Typhoon: the ship bristled with turrets and walls like an Arabian castle put to sea and sky, its hull glowing purple-yellow with the force fields on board. It had even brought that ocean with it, a massive bubble of ocean the size of a football field clinging to the base of the hull as if ship and sea both had been plucked from the sea. Hovering over the airport, the destroyer began its descent to the nearby Seine. As the Socotran ship landed, Nina exulted, "The lord of Socotra approaches!" For a moment, her tone seemed to slip as she added, "I knew he wouldn't forget about me!"

"Well, it looks like Socotra has come to us...come on everybody!" And with that, and no further word, Mark reached out and grabbed everyone's hand to teleport them right onto the Parisian dockside! Though some people were running, the jaded Parisians were doing no more than pointing and exclaiming in surprise as the Socotran destroyer came to a neat landing in the river, the oceans brought with displacing the Seine in a wave that washed up and down the various docksides. As a gangway of hard water rose from the river beneath, the princess turned and gestured to the others.

"Come, and have the honor of the company of Typhoon!"

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Bombshell had been having a quiet argument with Ace about just which Nazi had been whisked off. Ace had been correct, of course, although Talya pointed out that she couldn't be expected to keep them all straight. Really, they all looked alike anyways. Once you saw the bald head and swastika, what else really mattered? Once there were French authorities, the blonde bombshell performed her own little vanishing act. The Nazis weren't the only ones with a history with the French police.

Fortunately, with Typhoon's grand entrance, there was no eye on the blonde as she turned up once again at Ace's elbow. She reached to pull the glasses briefly from her nose to eye the Destroyer, "Well, still showy but far less destructive an entrance than I'm used to."

She glanced down to the toes of her now wet pumps and, making a face, amended, "Mostly."

Without any real hesitation about heading onto a bridge of hard water and into the lair of an old enemy, Talya strode forward, pumps clicking on the hard-water gangway, "Come, Ace, I really ought say hello while we're in the neighborhood. It would be terribly rude not to, considering past history. Also, I do want to point out that he now owes me yet another pair of shoes. I liked these shoes."

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Erin looked at the time on her phone, then at Trevor. "We probably have enough time before we have to go meet your dad," she murmured, "but I don't know if we're exactly dressed for the occasion." She hadn't thought about the fact that she was in her civilian clothes when there were lives on the line, but now that they were apparently expected to pay a diplomatic call, she felt weird about not being in uniform. Especially since Typhoon, who she knew of from classes but not that much, wasn't exactly a true-blue friend to the heroes from Freedom City.

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It took even Erin a moment to spot Trevor despite his proximity, as the young man did an admirable job of disappearing into the crowd of disembarking passengers and generally just not being where anyone was looking. "Should be in uniform, even if you need Mark to alter your clothes," he advised in hushed tones, his eyes flicking about behind his concealing sunglasses. "Typhoon is... difficult to predict, reportedly. Quick to anger." There certainly wasn't any point in risking setting the head of state off with a arguable breach of dress code. "Midnight will be along soon." With that, the young man was simply gone.

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Cannonade was still somewhat awed by the massive destroyer pulling into port. That was definitely the ride of someone with issues - either that, or someone who truly felt they could live up to the hype. As he tried not to let his jaw drop out from under him, he heard Wander and Midnight behind him, talking about "proper dress." He looked down at his own costume - aside from the metal helmet, he looked like a generic skinhead. He was about to meet a superpowered tyrant who traveled around in high-class naval hardware, and he was dressed like a street tough.

Eh, he thought. Screw it. This is who I am, and no two-bit tyrant's gonna change that. Still...

Cannonade slid up to Ace. "This Typhoon," he whispered, "you really think he's the kind of guy who'd consider someone coming to him underdressed a 'diplomatic incident'?"

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"Well no one can doubt his devotion to his distinct style." Ace agreed as Bombshell headed across the hard water gangplank. He paused as he tried to recall if he was still a wanted man on Socotran soil but shrugged as tat was more a problem to deal with later. Wouldn't be his first time in one of Typhoons cells after all.

Ace smirked lightly to Cannonade, "Absolutely though what is defined as under-dressed may be a bit different than you are accustomed." he suggested with a small carefree laugh. "I think at worse we'll be treated to a droning speech about the decline of society when such garb is considered 'heroic' in these times." the elder hero offered with a shrug that left unclear if he shared such beliefs.

That said Ace slipped a small ring onto one finger and headed across the bridge with a confident smile.

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Once suitably costumed by fair means or foul (Mark was clever enough to arrange a flock of doves to fly by as he temporarily changed Erin's costume into a near-duplicate of her new threads), the heroes headed up the hard water gangplank onto the high-tech ship. Socotran guards were everywhere in their ubiquitous purple full-body armor and carrying advanced blaster rifles, but they made way for the princess and her superheroic escort down below into the body of the ship where Dr. Typhoon awaited their arrival. Socotran soldiers were formidable, but they'd be no match for experienced superheroes in any kind of fight. Edge found himself keeping a position between Nina and his friends as they headed below; Mark Lucas was Nina's escort, but Edge the superhero should stand with Midnight and Wander.

As they reached the audience chamber on the main deck, one set deep in the body of the armored ship, a herald cried "Hail, Princess Nina al-Darsah of Socotra! Hail, Mark Lucas, Agent of UNISON! Hail, Cannonade, grandson of Legionnaire! Hail, Ace Danger of Freedom City! Hail, Bombshell of Freedom City! Hail, Midnight and Wander, slayers of entropy!" The herald took a breath. "HAIL DOCTOR TYPHOON! MASTER OF SOCOTRA! MASTER OF THE SEA! EMPEROR OF OCEANUS AND EMIR OF NEPTUNE!"

The holder of those esteemed titles sat in a gigantic white throne that on closer inspection was cut from a single pearl that had once been larger than three men put together, his traveling throne room all glowing blue walls and Typhoon Realist architecture that showed the wise protector of Socotra looming over a populace that looked grateful for his leadership. The man himself was not so big, but the armored figure on the throne was imposing all on his own. In a full body suit of blackly purple armor cut with a stylized face where his own should be, wrapped in a black and red keffiyeh, the lord of storms looked like something pulled from the depths of the sea. Behind him, a waterfall fell somehow indoors, the glowing purple at the tops and bottom showing where the Socotran technology managed the flow. At the sight of him, Nina kneeled and bowed her head, while the Americans in the room did no such thing.

"Father! I knew you would come when you heard! I have faced great danger, but been saved by these brave-"

"Silence." His hands on the arms of his throne, Typhoon did not rise to greet his guests. "We will speak of discretion later, my daughter." He was certainly no Omega, but there was still a deep power in the baritone growl that was the synthesized voice of the armored despot. He eyed the rest without moving his head, focusing at last on the two World War II heroes. "So. Ace Danger. Talya Browning. Both of you come before Typhoon as criminals in the ancient laws of the Socotran people. You know your wicked deeds! Typhoon will not waste his power on reciting tales of infamous theft and vice." He waved his hand. "But. You have done deeds today worthy of Socotra. In the infinite mercy of Typhoon, you are today pardoned for your crimes." He pointed at Edge. "And as for you, Marcus, you have proven Typhoon's wisdom in selecting you among the agents of UNISON to guard what is rightfully his. I am pleased."

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More comfortable even in a facsimile of her uniform, Erin stood next to Trevor with her hands clasped behind her back and watched the proceedings in the throne room. The ostentatious display of wealth and power made her feel a little uncomfortable. She wondered exactly who Typhoon was trying to impress with all the booming and the posturing. She felt rather bad for Nina, who didn't seem to merit much of her father's attention at all. But for her own part, she was happy to not be the focus of the ruler's attention herself, and was more than willing to wait and watch. Of course, she was also completely ready to go for her bat if the situation should suddenly change.

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For his part, Midnight stiffened imperceptibly at the way he and Wander were announced. He'd expected al-Darsah to be privy to the events on the plane and the players involved, certainly, but Young Freedom had understandably avoided publicizing that particular exploit any more than necessary. Obviously Typhoon's river of information ran deep indeed. Narrowing his eyes behind the ruby lenses of his mask, he looked past the needless show of wealth to the man on the throne. Typhoon seemed completely legitimate in his dialogue with Ace and Bombshell, overwrought though it may have been. The black clad young man also picked up on what he assumed was a father's concern mingled with annoyance at familial behaviour in public. There seemed to be no deception about the armored figure; evidently what others thought was not the concern of Typhoon.

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"Aww ya old softy." Ace replied with a grin heedless of the wisdom, or lack there of, in taunting Typhoon in his own domain. Knowing full well that their prisoner was even less likely to know why he'd been sent after the daughter of the very dangerous Hydrokinetic than he was to talk if he did Ace proceeded to try in his own unique fashion to pry what he could from Typhoon. "So what did you do to upset the latest nazi revival?"

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"Feh. Do not toy with the mercy of Typhoon," said the armored despot with a wave of his hand at Ace as the water behind him seemed to cascade faster, now in a tightly-controlled and confined waterfall. "To punish you now when you have come as the saviors of my desert flower would be petty. And Typhoon is never petty."

"My superiors will ask me about that as well," Mark added in the respectful voice that his friends had heard him use when talking to Mr. Archer back at Claremont. "With respect, Doctor Typhoon, I would be grateful if you could tell me why a dead Nazi super-soldier was targeting you and your family. I'm sure Princess al-Darsah would be interested to hear as well." He shot a look down at Nina, who had not risen from her position on the floor during her father's speech. She deserved better than that, he knew, even if she wasn't the nicest person herself.

At Mark's words, following up on the earlier question about the Nazis, Typhoon fell deadly-still. "Rise, Nina." Nina rose, a look o cool command on her face that hid the brief look of hurt she'd been masking earlier. "So, your guardian defends you even now. Excellent." He spoke, but his heart didn't seem in it as he bantered with the hero. A moment later, he raised his index finger. "Leave us!" At his word, the servants in the room did so, simply striding into the indoor waterfall all around them and vanishing as if they'd never been there at all. When the servants were gone, Typhoon rose to his feet as well, folding his arms in front of his chest in a move that mirrored his daughter's defensive posture of earlier.

"Tell me. What do you know of Joachim von Streitcher, der Meistermann?"

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Having been raised with the heroes and monsters of the past as childhood breakfast conversation, Mark had an answer waiting for him. "Joachim von Streitcher was born in Bavaria in 1898 to parents who'd bought their way into the lower tiers of the nobility. He served as an infantryman in World War I and washed out of flight training thanks to his frequent insubordination. He joined the SA after the war and became close to Ernst Rohm, then an enthusiastic supporter of Hitler who volunteered for the Nazi supersoldier program. He survived the infusion of Ubermensch cells in 1942 and served as anti-aircraft defense. He murdered fifty American, British, and Free French pilots before Spitfire managed to break his back and knock him out of the war. In 1945, Comrade Bomb decapitated him by shoving an explosive charge into his mouth. I've seen the pictures."

"Yes. That was the fate of one Joachim von Streitcher." Typhoon's masked face seemed to scowl. "But in another world, the mighty Meistermann was the dog of that vicious oaf Kal-Zed as the armies of the Third Reich swept across the world like a plague of filthy locusts. He had in his own world a vast estate in the Empty Quarter, and counted himself ruler of all the lands from the Indus to the Jordan in the name of his masters in Berlin. This was the criminal who dared threaten the daughter of Typhoon."

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"Bloody multiverse. It's always terrible people that seem to have doubles just merrily breaking through the dimensional barriers. At least it's not a talking-ape Nazi. I don't know why, but those always seem to be worse," was Bombshell's laconic reply from where she was making a languid strolling circuit of the audience chamber. She still only has her small clutch purse in one gloved hand, the other was absently running her fingertips along the closest pedestal. She came back to attention though at the talk of alternate earth doppelgangers.

Bombshell fixed her most winning smile on the despot and tipped her head at him, pulling off the dark sunglasses with a tug of her fingers, "As much as I love a good monologue - and you know I do love a good rumbling monologue, love. Honestly, you could give the original Scarab a run for his money on it and that's not a compliment I give lightly - but that said, that still doesn't explain why *that* Nazi is here after *your* daughter."

She wiggled one fingertip at him, "Typhoon, you naughty thing, have you been playing with dimensional portals again? Tsk."

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"Typhoon has kept his pledge to the Centurion," replied the armored despot in response to Bombshell's question. "He is ever a man of his word." While technically true, those who'd had dealings with the doctor in his younger days knew that he had a flexible definition of his own promises when they suited him. He fell silent for a moment, then with a harrumph strode to the middle of the room where a chess set sat in the middle of a game. As he had reminded his enemies in the past, it had been Arab and Hindu who had first made the game taken by Europeans, and Typhoon counted himself a master. Sweeping pieces from the board with his hand, he took four black pieces: a rook, the queen, a knight, and the king.

"Some months ago, Socotra played host to a gathering of...singular individuals." He touched rook, queen, knight, and king in turn. "Alien, dragon, bull, and storm. We have met before, but never at the invitation of others." He took from the white side a small handful of pawns and placed them in a semi-circle. "Typhoon knew their origin, but never their nature. They came as ambassadors from their own lands; a dimension where the forces of the German Reich hold the planet in an iron grip." He closed his hand into a fist over the board. "They made an offer to the four of us. Assist in their conquest of the Earth, and each rule our sides of the board as our own." He touched north, south, east and west on the chessboard. "They showed how, by certain arts, they had replaced individuals on our world with dopplegangers from their own, letting them infiltrate across the world." He closed his hand into that fist again. "I informed them that Typhoon is dog to neither paperhanger nor Ultiman! If they came for the kingdom of Typhoon, then they could face a monarch's wrath!" He made a noise that might have been a chuckle. "Their assassins came sooner than I expected, but of course Typhoon is ever-ready for treachery. And the atomic device planted in the waters of Socotra, an insult to my power. But this, a bold attack in the middle of the Atlantic on a crowded airplane. This was unexpected."

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Cannonade listened to Typhoon's explanation for Meistermann's stupidity, but he stopped listening somewhere around the middle bit of the story when the real bombshell came out. "Wait a minute," he said. "You're telling me that the forces from Planet Nazi are setting out for a coup?" He didn't add the obvious conclusion - "And why the hell didn't you tell anyone until now?" - because the last thing he wanted to do was find out how much water could be shoved in him until his lungs burst. "Well, that's just great. Don't suppose these guys offered any hints as to where they stuck their agents?"

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The water behind Typhoon turned blood-red for a moment. "I dislike your words, Cannonade, particularly since your voice should be raised in tribute! Had Typhoon joined in the cause of Erde, then your world would face a threat far greater than you could imagine!" He turned his attention back to the board. "Typhoon has pledged that the affairs of Socotra are our own. I have enforced my pledge with my own blood and the blood of interlopers alike! Typhoon needs no aid to defeat assassins from another world, and if you lack the wit to see conspiracies beneath your own nose, grandson of Legionnaire, that is hardly my doing." For the first time, he spared a glance at Nina before saying, "Or so I believed. Terrible as it would be for the world to lose the mighty brain of Typhoon, there is a threat here larger than myself." He swept his hand over the chessboard. "The pawns are everywhere. In your agencies, your prisons, your nations. But the true threat lies when the greater pieces take the board. As their grip on their world fades, so do they seek to reach out and crush this one. Whatever the cost."

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Ace regarded Typhoon coolly as he ranted about the 'service' he had done by not joining the nascent Erde invasion. "Never occured to you the bad guys might go after your family instead? Funny seems that's in your own playbook." he replied with more venom than was perhaps warranted, "As mighty as Socotra may be it wouldn't be able to stand against the forces of the Reich if it managed this invasion. Even your hubris does not extend so far as to think otherwise." he regarded their host with scrutiny for a long moment, "Leaving it to the league and rest of the world to thwart such a plan isn't your style though. You may be many things but typhoon is not one to let others shield him from his foes." he mused aloud.

He looked to the other Heroes and nodded slowly, "So you thought to undermine their potential foothold, Socrata would stand strong and you wouldn't have to team up with your old foes." he guessed with a curious glance to the Lord of Storm, "The middle east is prime territory for Nazi meddling, and that's Socotras backyard. Also makes sense why the fellow running the region on Erde was their blunt instrument in this attack." he finally concluded. He paused a moment, "But I think there is more to why we are now being made privy to this." he speculated, "While this attack on Nina is an excellent excuse to socotras people there is more to why you involve us all now, I think you know more about the arrival of those 'greater pieces' are to arrive, and I'd wager its soon?"

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"Feh! The past is dead. It is the future that belongs to Typhoon." The king of Socotra stalked to his throne again, his cape swirling behind him. "The pieces are on the board. The players of our side now understand the game. But we play for no small stakes! On the board is the fate of two worlds. This one, and one with which I think your young allies may be all too familiar." He hmmed. "In two weeks, there shall be a great ball in Geneva. The fool Swiss believe it is a fete organized by some piddling bank. Rather, it is an occasion for the dragon of Sin to negotiate with another Nipponese empire to decide who shall rule what." He waved his hand. "He says he plays them for fools. But to pretend to be a dog is to fasten the collar round one's own neck! See them there! Then you shall understand the magnitude of what they dare dream."

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Cannonade kept his mouth shut. He hated the fact that this arrogant dictator thought he could play them like puppets. It's not smarts that keep his hands clean; it's 'cause he's chicken. These Nazi creeps make a direct attack on his daughter and want to wrap their hands around the throat of the world, and he just deals on us while he keeps his ass firmly planted on that throne. You'd think if this guy lived up to his hype, he'd actually try and take care of them himself.

But for all the resentment, he knew what he had to do. Even if Typhoon wouldn't do anything, someone had to. And if that someone was him, then so be it.

"Well," he said, "Switzerland it is, then. Man, I've gotta get fitted for a tux. That wasn't any fun at prom, and it ain't gonna be fun now."

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Midnight remained silent throughout the posturing and counter-posturing back and forth between the larger than life personalities in the room. He wasn't surprised in the least that Typhoon had thought to handle this incursion with as little interference from others as possible, regardless of the risk to the world at large. In a certain light, it wasn't that different from the way he and hid friends had dealt with terrible threats themselves simply because they had been in the right place at the right time to make a difference.

The young man was more interested in the four players the monarch referenced obliquely. The 'storm' was obviously Tempest himself; knowing that was how the armored man thought of himself was telling indeed. the 'dragon', it seemed, was Doctor Sin, the old arch foe of the original Raven, and those first two names were a grave indicator of the caliber of the quartet as a whole. He briefly wondered if the 'alien' might simply be someone from outside Socotra, but that seemed an odd point to make even for al-Darsah's sensibilities. No, it was more likely an extra-terrestrial. That didn't narrow things down much. The Meta-Grue? Star Khan? Troubling possibilities. Who the 'bull' might be, Midnight had no idea, and that concerned him most of all.

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"Depends on the Tailor." Ace remarked with a sly grin to Cannonade, "And we are in Paris." His mind wandered for a long moment as he sifted through rumor and innuendo to put names to those that Typhoon had hinted at.

Ace glanced to Bombshell with a small smirk, "What is it with the Swiss and Nazis?" he asked rhetorically. He looked back to the other heroes with a small shrug, "So we're looking at Dr. Sin, Taurus and the Labyrinth, and," he paused as he considered possible alien threats, "Given the august company I would hazard the meta-Grue." The ageless hero frowned slightly at the list it was a potent conglomerate the forces of Erde were trying to assemble.

He glanced back to Typhoon wondering if the singular sense of honor of the super-villain had bound him not to reveal more, if he knew no more or simply was playing this like a game but didn't press the man further. "Well we need arrange invitations to this shindig then." he mused aloud. He shot a very brief look Midnights way as he continued, "Though I think we'll need to find less obtrusive garb than we now wear." he suggested off hand. Ace was fairly certain himself and bombshell would manage he hoped midnight the younger might have means to insinuate himself and his friends as well. Cannonade, well that was a problem to be handled when it came to it.

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