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The Menu, The Venue, The Seating

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July 21st, 2017

8:30 PM 

The Southern Queen Restaurant 


Hyperactive had found that heroes played all sorts of roles. He liked to think of them as body parts. His father had been a powerful set of fists and his eyes cast tremendous vision. His best friend Druid was a heart that guided the Waco Warriors. And Hyperactive? Well he was almost always a pair of feet. Running around and kicking bad guys. But today was different. Today Hyperactive was a mouth.


Hyperactive arrived in a blur of motion. He had on a simple black suit with a silver shirt. His green tie had his "H" in a pattern on it. He had opted for the visor that just went over his eyes and ears. This wasn't a combat mission, but it was a mission all the same. He strolled up to the entrance. The large briefcase with the congressional seal displayed hung at his side. 


"Hello Miss, table for two please." Hyperactive smiled at the hostess. "And tell Cheff McQueen that Hyperactive is here to see her."

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The hostess was Amy, filling in for Rory for a bit. Her red hair and accent marked her as clearly Scottish. She was tall, too. Taller than Hyperactive, even. “This way, please.” The Queen, at this hour, wasn’t all that busy. Dinner rush was just starting to ease off, and it wasn’t too hard to find a table. “Rose, find Chef would you? She’s been asked for by a Hyperactive.” The short haired blonde went into the kitchen with a nod. Amy glanced back and saw her husband resuming his post with a nod at her. “Right, then. What can I get you?”


This was when Maybelle McQueen walked through the kitchen doors. “Get me a glass of iced tea for me, Amy? Might be a minute.” She stood at Hyperactive’s table. “Nice to see you again, sunshine. Man, but that storm thing was crazy.” Her smile was sunny and easy on the eyes. She did, however, look just a bit tired around the eyes. It was near the end of dinner rush on a Friday, after all. “What can I make for you tonight, speedy?”

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"It sure was! I think I might still have water in my ears." Hyperactive joked. He took in the entire menu in a blink. He rested the briefcase on the table. Flipping open the latches but not opening it, he took up the menu.


"Well you know what I am feeling some chicken and Waffles." Hyperactive said with a grin. "I'm super speed lagged, it's still breakfast time in Australia." He opened up his briefcase. "I understand if you're still busy, but at some point tonight it will be necessary for us to sit down and talk." He hoped it wasn't going to go like the last few conversations on this matter with other heroes. 

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Maybelle glanced at Amy (who jotted the order down on her notepad and left the table) and then around the dining area. “No, it’s slowing down. I might have to dash if something comes up, but I can sit for a while.” She did just that, sat down at the table and sighed in relief. “Weekend dinner rush is killer.” Her fierce smile showed she wouldn’t have it any other way. Amy returned with a glass of iced tea for Maybelle and a glass of iced water for Hyperactive. “Thanks, Red.” Amy was off again. “Anyway, speedy. What do you want with me?”

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"I'm here on business really." Hyperactive fully opened up his briefcase. He looked over the papers in it. No he wouldn't need to start with this. "I'm here on behalf of my new employers." Hyperactive tapped the symbol of congress on the briefcase. 


"I don't know how much you know about the FEND Act?" Hyperactive asked Queenie. "But they have started I guess, hiring is the right term, heroes for a new Federal hero team. I have already been hired. They want you on the team as well. Your powers would be extremely useful. As would your leadership prowess, like with those Storms." 

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Maybelle was befuddled. “Me? But there’s dozens of heroes in this town.” She frowned. “I don’t really follow politics. I’m too busy in the kitchen and being Queenie.” She frowned a little harder. “And I didn’t do anything special, then. Somebody needed to direct traffic, that’s all.” She thought some more, while sipping tea. “It’s not like I’d mind helping out, though.” She shrugged off a variety of complicated feelings on the issue. “What’s the deal? If there’s a contract I’ll have to have Chris look at it. He handles the business side of, well, me.” It was true. Supplies were Maybelle’s domain, but equipment, mortgage, gas and electric, and the various other bills were handled by her business manager slash partner.

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"Well being out of politics is certainly an advantage." Hyperactive smiled. Heroes whose politics were too far leaning in either direction were not considered. "I was impressed by your leadership. If someone hadn't spoken up then more people would have died. Don't sell yourself short." 


"I'm sore at some point there will be contracts to sign. But what's the point looking over those if you don't wind up interested?" Hyperactive added he took out the first folder in the briefcase. The label read: Hyperactive. He opened it and laid it on the table. "I realize though that I'm an unknown quantity to a great extent." 


The file was mostly images, though he did push forward the more flattering articles about his time as Summer Son II and the articles about assembling the Waco Warriors.

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Maybelle didn’t do more than briefly skim through the file after noting that it was all about Hyperactive. “You don’t have to impress me, sunshine. I’ve seen you work.” She smiled again. “Don’t sell yourself short, either. I don’t know how many people we’d have lost without your help back then.” One of her waitresses (this one of African descent) borrowed her for a few minutes. When Maybelle returned she was apologetic. “Sorry about that. Long time regular wanted something I phased off the menu a few months ago. Can’t find a supplier for a vital ingredient after the Atlantean thing. Where were we? Oh, right.” She threw back a gulp of iced tea, and sat down again.


“Bottom line? If the President is asking for my help I’d be happy to lend a hand. I just have a condition.” She paused briefly, still friendly but with steel lurking in the background. “I won’t put up with someone who’s never made toast trying to tell me how to run my kitchen. By the same token, I won’t put up with some suit telling me when and how to superhero.” She held up her hands as a gesture to keep Hyperactive quiet. “I understand there’s probably a chain of command or something. I can respect that. Just don’t…micromanage me, I guess. Point me at the problem and let me work, pretty much. If that’s ever a problem, well…I’m sure y’all will do just fine without me on the team.” Maybelle gave Hyperactive her most brilliant smile.

Edited by EternalPhoenix
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