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September 12, 2011

Not long after their meeting in Paris, Edge made his own way to the Chateau Relais, following the plans laid down by Midnight and the more experienced heroes on the team. I guess I can't really call it Young Freedom; that belongs to the Claremont kids and anyway some of them aren't really that young! He'd hidden in plain sight as a UNISON employee on break, renting a car at the Bern airport and chatting volubly with the clerk there about how great it was to be in Switzerland and how much nicer it was than his usual African posting. From there, a car ride up to the mountains had taken him to the Chateau, where the last few weeks before the first real snow of the year had left the roads empty and quiet as he drove up and up towards the Chateau at an impressive 10,000 feet.

Once there, he was all the cheerful, loud American tourist, buying a jaunty Tyrolean hat and parading around in it while he butchered German for the amusement of the locals, eating a huge breakfast in the chateau's impressive dining hall adorned with hunting trophies from all over the region. There were quite a few people there already, Japanese businessmen and quiet Swiss and Germans alike, and he let them see him without a trace of apparent artifice. The more of that that was in place, the better; who could be suspicious of that loud tourist in the silly hat? He kept a close eye out for his team, however, knowing that they'd find ways to contact him once they were all in place. Of course, with some of them, they'd be obvious even to him...

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Joe was next up to the Chateau. After lending in Bern, he'd taken a cab up to the small resort town - on AEGIS's tab, of course. He walked into town with a backpack strapped tight, his costume within. He was trying his hardest to blend in with the local population. A few people - his little brother, for one - had pointed out the folly of wearing a costume so close to what he wore on the street. That had been part of the point, of course - for skinheads, clothing and appearance were mostly uniform. The style of clothing meant merely that he was in the subculture, and there were quite a few of them in Freedom. The helmet helped to conceal his face, the main lead anyone would have to go on at that point.

That worked in an urban environment, of course, where every subculture, no matter how fringe, tended to have at least a dozen members. This was a small town, nestled in the mountains of Switzerland -- and beyond that, it would soon be playing home to a deal by supervillains who valued their privacy. Not only would his typical street clothes stand out, they'd probably throw up a few red flags for whoever the chief of security was. Instead of his usual gear, he wore a Harrington coat over one of his work shirts and a regular pair of jeans. His costume was in his backpack, but hopefully he wouldn't have to bust that out unless things went absolutely sideways. With what he was wearing, he could pass himself off as a backpacker - or, if he had to stretch it, someone's private thug.

He made his way up to the chateau, checked in at the front desk, and found out he'd arrived right in the middle of turndown service. He plopped himself down on one of the ludicrously comfortable chairs in the lobby, keeping his eyes open for the others. He kept his hands close to his pack, and his guard up. He didn't know what sort of security features the visitors were packing; he just had to hope that they didn't take notice of him.

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If Mark was endeavouring to draw as much attention to himself as possible and Joe was doing his best to slip by completely unnoticed, the arrival of Trevor Hunter and his companion stuck the middle ground. The rented car that pulled up in front of the Chateau was luxurious, true, but by no means the most expensive vehicle seen that day. Its occupants were friendly and sociable if approached, but didn't go out of their way to strike up conversation. The heir to the Hunter fortune was indeed on the guest list and a familiar name to those with related business interests, but meant little to the true social elite. In total the pair provided just enough information to tell anyone with a passing curiosity all they needed to know, letting them fill in the blanks and then discard them as of no particular interest either way.

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Erin stayed close to Trevor as he navigated them through the niceties of high-class socialization with the ease of someone with a lifetime of practice. She smiled where appropriate, nodded as she listened to and filed away names and faces, and concentrated most of her attention on their surroundings. That was her specialty, after all, and for once having a detailed knowledge of the layout and all the exits and security areas of a hotel might actually come in handly. "You know," she murmured to Trevor as they strolled around, "I haven't been skiing in years. Maybe we should come back sometime in the winter."

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There were a number of ways to arrive with pomp and circumstance to a luxury resort such as this, it would be easy to get a limousine, or even private helicopter for the trip from the nearest airport of course. Ace however had a statement to make with his arrival. Thusly he whipped the Danger-Car through the curving roads of the Tyrolian countryside and down the narrow streets of the small village supporting the chalet.

He came to a screeching halt at the main entrance to the luxury accommodations and hopped easily from the driver seat with an eager smile. Due to careful leaks there was a small coterie of Paparazzi there to document his arrival as well of course drawing further attention to be sure. He passed the keys to the valet as he opened the passenger side door for the ever lovely Talya Browning and taking her arm headed into the Hotel to check in leaving his bags in the care of the staff without a thought. Of course he half way planned for them to be on the take and thusly had been sure to pack some surveillance equipment for them to tamper with. The real deal of course was carried on his person.

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Talya extended one gloved hand from the car and let Ace hand her to her feet with the sort of old-world manners that hardly anyone employed these days. The advantage of dressing in retro-forties glam meant that no one ever batted an eyelash at the everpresent gloves. Something that she had always found handy with not-so-distant thief past. Even now, not leaving fingerprints randomly had its uses. Her crimson lipped smile was genuine under the dark glasses and wide brim of her hat.

"I take it back, dearest," she purred, tilting her face up to him as if oblivious of their surroundings but the lenses of her glasses were very dark and Ace well knew that she'd be looking everywhere but actually at his face. That was the advantage of having partnered up a time or two. Sure, Talya might take his things, but she was highly unlikely to let him get shot in the back, "You don't actually drive that much better than you fly."

Threading her arm through his in lazy companionship, she strolled with him to the desk. As for Talya's bags, they were clean of anything of real interest except for some very expensive jewelry that she was not nearly emotionally attached to. She made it a point not to bring things that couldn't be left behind at possible megalomaniac fortresses of death. "You're fortunate to have so many other... talents. Oh, is that a eighteenth century Caucasus hanging?"

She pulled away from him deliberately, only half-way feigning interest in the artwork. Some habits DID die hard after all. If everything went to hell, there was a good chance Ace was going to get an ancient rug stuffed in his luggage. It didn't count if it belonged to bad guys.

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Once everyone was safely secreted inside the hotel, they made contact using the secret transmitters Midnight had assembled before they left: though the Young Freedomites missed the reassuring voice of Sage in their heads, it was nice to know they still had resources enough to keep everyone together. As the day went on and the heroes circulated, the chateau grew increasingly crowded as more and more people arrived for what promised to be a very swanky party that night. Speeding things on was the weather report that predicted the first great snowstorm of the season that night: a freak cold front in the Alps had collided with another, and as the skies greyed and darkened as night approached there was the real promise of frost in the air.

It was a ritzy establishment, one delighted to cater to the rich, beautiful people as well as those who planned to get together in the grand ballroom later that night. Mark busied himself with being busy, striding around in his hat and flirting with pretty maids, making sure he was as obvious as possible so the real detectives at the party could do their work. He did find out how surprised everyone was that a storm was coming; September might have been a season for snow in the high Rockies or other high mountain ranges in America, but the Alps were usually much more temperate! Still, strange things usually did happen at the Relais. The hotel was increasingly full of beefy-looking men and women with good tans and blue eyes, the sort who weren't so much out of place as _too_ perfect for the location.

Before the snow could fall, though, one last arrival showed up: though they came with a party of "Hong Kong banking executives" who headed straight for their private suite before the planned festivities, something about the middle-aged Asian man in the classically tapered suit and his weighty bodyguard was decidedly eye-catching to the experienced heroes: none of them had been particularly active in the days Dr. Sin had been a particular threat to Freedom City's superheroes (even Travis Hunter had been in retirement when his spiritual successor Duncan Summers had fought Dr. Sin), but that face had been included in the education for high-level Claremont students, the sort that Duncan Summers thought might one day make it to the Freedom League.

That man going upstairs was indeed the reviled Dr. Sin.

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"Skiing? Good plan, have to arrange it," Trevor agreed with a subtle, thoughtful tilt of his head. The thought of cool mountain air and physical exertion actually sat quite well with him even if he had mixed feelings about snow in general - anything that made sound and left prints with every footfall was problematic in the young man's book, even if it wasn't so white.

The proliferation of picture perfect muscle wasn't lost on the dark haired vigilante, even as he and Erin remained inconspicuous by virtue of occupying an uninspiring middle ground of interest, but his attention was captured almost entirely by the appearance of Dr. Sin. Even without having had personal dealings with the archvillain, the second Midnight had perhaps the greatest appreciation for just how dangerous such a man could be, given his history with costumed detectives of similar motif.

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Joe's eyes swept over the lobby once more, and he started to notice the volume of perfect bodies, perfect faces, and perfect smiles, ski jocks and ski bunnies loaded to the gills with the best physiques money could buy. "God, it's like I'm caught in a eugenics experiment," he said quietly. "Trying to find a Nazi supersoldier here's gonna be like finding White Knight in a pillow case factory."

Still, when the man with the prominent entourage showed up, he stood out even among the others. "Guessing that's the guy, huh?" he said. "We got a plan for surveillance?"

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Sometimes, Edge hated being the loud, obvious one. But his friends needed to go about their secretive work, and that meant he had to be the one who had everyone's attention. People had to make escapes, make plans, or otherwise get in position to watch either the ballroom or Dr. Sin himself. Come on, Liberty League 2.0, he thought, naming the team they'd made without speaking, Make this count! He stepped away for a moment and returned in liederhosen and Tyrolean hat, and the accordian he'd hastily bought from the giftshop in anticipation of just such a moment. "Guten morgen, fraus and frauleins!" he boomed in terrible, American-accented German.

"I have come to entertain you with a song!" And so Edge began to play, and play he did with gusto, grinning and gamboling as only a drunken American tourist could. He actually was an average musician, enough that people simply stared at him in bafflement rather than open contempt as he began singing along in awful German, looking very pleased with himself. C'mon, guys, get in position...

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"Lets keep the souvenir collection to the gift shop Talya." Ace said as he took her arm and moved her towards the elevators. He wanted to get a better look at Sin make a more solid ID, maybe rattle the old boys cage a little while he was at it. He quickened his pace as the notable hustled across the room. Drawing as near as he could he tried to draw his old foes attention. "Quite the storm brewing." he called out. "Looks like we might get snowed in." he added with a knowing grin. Ace was nothing if not cocky after all. Hopefully Sin himself would be distracted enough that with edge drawing off the neckless brigade they stood a shot of getting some one into position.

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Joe took Mark's hint pretty clearly. He moved away from the main floor, not running fast enough to draw attention but not going so slow that someone could easily notice him edging towards the door. Once he broke away from the main group, he took to the stairs. It helped that his room was on the second-highest floor of the hotel -- while the numbering indicated he wasn't situated near the main lobby, it would give him some space to explore.

Once he got to his floor, he moved away from where his room was and back towards the lobby. He looked down from the heights, keeping careful watch on Sin and his entourage... and checking the corners of the lobby and the various floors above it, to see who else might be keeping watch.

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Trevor handily managed to avoid wincing openly at Mark's dissonant performance, moving inconspicuously toward the back of the hall. "That would be our cue," he noted quietly to Erin before sliding entirely out of sight. Through a combination of distraction, losing himself in the crowd and slipping into darkened corners, the dark haired young man was suddenly nowhere to be found. If anyone had been watching very closely in just the right place, they might have seen a figure in all black moving quickly into the chalet's upper levels. But of course, no one was.

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Erin wasn't quite as sneaky as Trevor, but really, who was? Ducking her head to hide the smile at the show Mark was putting on, she slipped out after Trevor, making her way silently up the stairs while most peoples' backs were turned. And even if someone did notice, there wasn't much to see in a lone young woman walking up towards the sleeping room floors in a somewhat-crowded ski chalet. At least, that was what she hoped! Surely nobody here would look at any of them and think superheroes.

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  • 2 weeks later...

They all made their own individual way up to the party, where what started out as a cheerful society ball in the Germanic tradition soon turned sour. While Trevor and Erin and Ace and Talya both had time to get in a couple of dances, it was increasingly obvious that their Germanic hosts were getting angrier and angrier, and it didn't take long to figure out why. Dr. Sin had shown up, conferred with his aides in their room, and then (as a stealthy reconaissance found) simply left, probably with the help of one of the psionic teleporters known to be in his employ: whether he'd made one of the heroes or simply betrayed his putative allies, the deedwasdone. The Nazis had been stood up, and they didn't look very happy about it. Like the cowards they were, they slipped out too, leaving the Liberty League with the field, the hotel, and a very fine ski slope.

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