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A Touch Of Class (IC)

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10:30 PM

August 16th, 2011

The Secret Bar, West End

Freedom City

Music Night!

Posters all over Freedom City had been advertising this evening's entertainment for the past several weeks; a night of class, style, and all sorts of different old-school music, from the eras of swing, jazz, big band, all kinds. Formal wear only, of course, with the bulk of the proceeds going to charities all over Freedom City. Rumors abounded through the musical sets about who was on the performing list; some bands announced loudly and clearly that they'd chosen to volunteer for the show, donating their own paychecks to the charity bin! The New Town Orchestra and The Soul Stampede were even slotted to make an appearance; along with some new up-and-comers in the buisness. Whether they were playing or not was anyone's guess, however.

When the night finally arrived, it was as if that particular building of Freedom City had been thrown back into the past; limos and fine cars drove up to a red carpet outside the "innocuous front" the Secret Bar was famous for, and were escorted inside by employees dressed to the nines as old-school mobsters in pinstripe suits and hats. A not-so-secret passage from the reception area lead them into the bar proper, where waiters in black suits and white gloves set tables with tablecloths and candles, a brass band already setting up on stage. A low buzz of conversation began to fill the air as customers began to fill the room, taking seats at tables and booths, waiting for tonight's performances to start.

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This particular charity event had already had a lot of buzz around it. There were a fair number of musical talents lined up, including some big name bands. But right near the beginning of the night's entertainment, there was a block set aside for "Mystery Guest". That slot, all by itself, had generated almost as much buzz as all the other artists. Who could it be, after all? Why the mystery?

Tonight, they got their answer, but not in a way any of them expected.

As the various rich and famous were piling out of luxurious limousines and walking into the club, a few patrons pointed upwards and noted a "white speck" in the sky. Within moments, it was clear it was someone flying about in a bright costume. A minute after that, and the angelic-themed hero Gabriel was executing a 9-point landing that barely ruffled any nearby hair, though everyone close enough had to shake their head to clear the ringing out. The hero in white and silver looked around him and gave a dashing smile.

"Good evening! I'm glad everyone seems to be making it here just fine. Is everyone excited for the show tonight? I know I am! And as much as I wanted to just sit back and take in the music, I couldn't help but decide to contribute my own humble talents to the proceedings. So everyone, hope you're here to have a good time. But remember, stay safe and responsible!"

With a final smile and wave, the armored form of Gabriel all but glided into the club, smiling and shaking hands along the way.

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Rene shuffled in as slowly as he could, complaining that the walk was too long for an old man, and the stairs too small, too big, too wide, and too narrow, and various junctures.

He made sure his bow tie and suit were just suitably scruffy enough to lend himself an air of disrespect, whilst at the same time being of good cut and quality to be sufficient to get in. He reluctantly removed his beret, mumbling about how now Frenchman should be asked to remove such a thing, and how he was on old man and his head got cold.

At least the wine was good.

Stay safe and responsible?

Good advice. It didn't apply to old men of course. And it was only advice. As his good friend Oscar Wilde had said, the only thing to do with good advice was to pass it on. It was never of any use to oneself.

He helped himself to another glass.

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The sound of a powerful Harley engine filled the air, and Mad Dog pulled up onto the scene. He hopped off the bike, looking quite dapper in a brand-new tuxedo. He wore his black hockey mask over it, and his leather gloves contrasted highly with the rest of his outfit. His bike was taken by the valet service, and Mad Dog grinned beneath his mask. He reached in his pocket, and checked for any new text messages. His girlfriend, Gossamer, was supposed to be here soon.

"I'll be inside" he sent her, and the tuxedo-clad superhero entered the Secret Bar. He sat down at one of the tables, and waited for Gossamer. A hand reached at his collar- he was never one for formal wear.

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A rented limo pulled up in front of the mundane facade of the Secret Bar; one of the valets opened the door, and a golden tide spilled out, followed closely by a pair of long shapely legs in elegant pumps. Dr Estelle de Havilland (AKA Gossamer), the lovely yet rather bizarre heroine and founding partner in the Lab, made an impressive entrance. She wore a shimmering backless black dress and vintage diamond earrings to match her stunning necklace on loan from Versace. Estelle smiled for the cameras, shared a few polite pleasantries with the press with mechanical ease, and made her way inside. When asked about her handsome veterinarian boyfriend, she made a show of being sad he was unable to attend the event; it was difficult being a public superhero with Greg still 'in the closet', but so far they were making it work.

Perhaps I can discretely hold his hand with a spare tendril; assuming, of course, I can be a bit more subtle than I was the first time I met Moira...

She rolled her eyes and chuckled at the embarrassing memory as she made her way to Mad Dog's table; her smile was friendly but not overly familiar. "Hello again, MD! Nice to see you could make it."

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Mad Dog rose to his feet and swept her into his arms, oblivious to the others doubtless looking at them. "Hey, babe!" he said, with a smile on his face. "Umm, does this look okay on me?" He glanced at his tuxedo, and swept imaginary dust off of his jacket. "I mean, I like how the tux fits. We picked a good size, and everything, but does the mask offset it too much? Oh well." A careless shrug of his shoulders, and Mad Dog turned back to the other guests. "It's a nice party though, I'll give you that."

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"Umm, does this look okay on me?" He glanced at his tuxedo, and swept imaginary dust off of his jacket. "I mean, I like how the tux fits. We picked a good size, and everything, but does the mask offset it too much? Oh well." A careless shrug of his shoulders, and Mad Dog turned back to the other guests. "It's a nice party though, I'll give you that."

Estelle stiffened at Mad Dog's touch, a rictus smile frozen on her face as she gently disentangled herself from his embrace. "Yes, Mad Dog, it's very flattering; it's a shame I'm dating someone else, a veterinarian named Gregory, or else I would respond to your very forward advances in kind." She hastily took as seat, whispering harshly to her masked boyfriend. "What are you, drunk? Estelle and Gregory are dating, not Gossamer and Mad Dog! You're the one with the secret identity to hide; you're coming on to me in costume just makes me look cheap!"

She signaled a waitress and ordered a Scotch on the rocks.

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