Last edited 02 Dec 2001 02:45 PM

Comments at a luncheon, from the proverbial fly on the wall:

*

Iris smiled at Zebra.  "You really laid into Tiger.  Good going, girl."

Zebra stared back at her with her dark eyes.  "You have terrible taste in team mates."

*

"KID CASTLE.  I'M PLEASED TO MEET YOU."  Copper reached out a hand, paused, then knelt slightly, so that his own overheight wouldn't cause the wheelchair-bound young man any trouble.

Tommy flushed, and set the plate with some of the luncheon goodies aside.  He took Copper's hand firmly.  "Thanks.  And you.  I'd like to talk, when we get a chance, about the technology you've built into your suit.  It's looks like a hell of an achievement."

"NO PROBLEM.  THOUGH --"  Adrian hesitated for a moment.  Oh, well, what the hell.  I'll be working with them.  They ought to know.  "-- THE COPPER SUIT ISN'T EXACTLY OF MY INVENTION.  BUT I UNDERSTAND A LOT ABOUT HOW IT WORKS, SO AS LONG AS WE DON'T GET TOO TECHNICAL I SHOULD BE ABLE TO HOLD MY OWN IN A CONVERSATION."

*

"I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot -- or hoof, as the case may be," Victor said to Zebra.    "I'm sure we'll all be getting along great by the time this little exchange program is over."

She shrugged, looking both belligerent and uncomfortable.  "Whatever."

He'd taken his helm off, and now ran his fingers through his short-cropped blond hair.  It was a nervous habit he had, one he wasn't even aware of, though Donato could always get the others to crack up when he used it in an imitation of Victor.  "You certainly handled yourself well against Tiger.  Not many folks out there faster than he is."

She shrugged again.  

Victor noticed her ears were laid back -- which meant something in some animals, and something else in others, but which was an oddity nonetheless with humans.  Victor tried once again.  "Well, if there's anything you need while you're here, you can get hold of me day or night.  One of the responsibilities of being team leader is being always available to respond to requests."  He chuckled. 

"That is not why I'm here," she snapped, suddenly bristling -- literally, as her mane was sticking up far more upright.  "Team leader or not."  She turned and stomped away, leaving a very puzzled Victor wondering what the hell had just happened.

*

"Iris," Tommy said, wheeling over toward her where she stood by the punch bowl.  

She slowly turned to him, holding a cup of punch, smiling.  "Hi, Tommy."

It had taken all his courage to hail her, and now he wasn't sure what to say.  "Ah, so, what do you think of our guests."

"Oh, I haven't had a chance to talk to the armored guy -- but the Zebra girl is a little bitch."

Tommy shrugged.  "I haven't had a chance to talk with her, except when Vic was introducing us.  She seemed okay, even if she did beat up on Tiger."

"Which he deserved," Iris countered.  "You just like her because she wears that skimpy little top."

He shrugged again, not comfortable with where the conversation was going.  "I like it when you wear skimpy little tops."  He suddenly realized what he was saying, and blushed a brilliant shade of red.

"Ah --" Iris had broken eye contract with him again.  "I've got to run to the little super-heroine's room, Tommy.  Catch you later."

"Sure," Tommy said, watching her head out of the briefing room.  "Later."

*

"Quarters have been set up for you, and your companion," Proteus told Copper.  "Separate, of course.  Unless you wish otherwise."

Adrian couldn't help but laugh at that.  "NO.  SEPARATE IS JUST FINE.  BELIEVE ME."  Sheila might be someone to fantasize about -- though he'd never admit that to Jasmine -- but Adrian was pretty good about keeping the line straight between fantasy and reality. And if he wasn't, he was damned sure that Sheila would be.

Proteus nodded.  "As you wish."  He paused.  "I am not sure of the correct protocol here.  I do not know if your suit is capable of sustaining all your needs for the next week, but --"

"NO, IT'S NOT."  He could actually stay in the suit for quite a while -- it had some basic sanitary facilities built in, plus water, and sugar and caffeine pills.  But sooner or later -- sooner, if comfort was a requirement -- he had to exit the armor.  "I BROUGHT ALONG SOME CLOTHES TO CHANGE INTO, IN A DUFFEL IN THE SHUTTLE.  I'VE GOT A MASK, TOO."

Proteus cocked his head.  "Is your need to keep your identity secret that intense?  You are, of course, amongst friends."

Copper nodded.  "I KNOW.  IT'S JUST EASIER THAT WAY.  WHO KNOWS -- BY THE END OF THE WEEK, MAYBE I'LL BE PRANCING ABOUT THE TV ROOM IN MY UNDERWEAR."

The bald, non-descript man considered this, then nodded again.  "Our house is your house."

*

"So when Victor introduced you," Sh'heyla said to the cripple, "he said your given name is Tommy?"

Tommy nodded.  She was -- well, exotic, and, as Iris had pointed out, the rather skimpy white bikini-like costume she wore didn't, ah, cover her very much.

She looked down at him.  "Figures."  She turned and walked away.

*

Iris sipped at the glass of punch she was drinking.  Someone had added some sherbet to the punch bowl, so it was fairly sweet and tasty.  She looked at the armored figure.  "So ... do you ever worry about -- well, I don't know -- that your suit will fail and you'll -- fall?"

Copper couldn't shrug, so he simply made a broad gesture with his hands.  "DO YOU EVER WORRY ABOUT YOUR LEGS FAILING WHILE YOU'RE GOING DOWN STAIRS?"  He paused.  He'd worried about it, sure, when he was first wearing the armor.  But you just can't live that way.  "YOU JUST HAVE TO DO IT.  IF YOU WORRY ABOUT IT, YOU'RE A LOT MORE LIKELY TO FALL -- OR HESITATE, JUST WHEN YOU NEED TO ACT.  IT NEEDS TO BE SECOND NATURE TO YOU."

She nodded.  "You sound like a real pro at this."

He laughed.  The sound was odd coming out of his speakers.  "I KEEP LOOKING AROUND AND THINKING I'M STILL THE NEW KID ON THE BLOCK.  IT'S KIND OF WEIRD HEARING SOMEONE CALL ME A PRO.  AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE ONE IN THE BIG HEROES.  THAT'S NOTHING TO SNEEZE AT."

She returned the laughter.  When she laughed, her whole face lit up.  "Well, the Mag Six isn't exactly the bush leagues."

"YEAH, BUT, STILL --"

"You two are making me sick," Zebra said, stalking by.  "Don't forget you're married, Tin Can."

Iris watched her as she headed for the center of the room, where the food was.  "Y'know, she's really an unpleasant person."

"YES, BUT SHE DOESN'T MEAN WELL," Copper noted, and they both laughed some more.

*

Sh'helya snorted.  "Well, I just hope Cat-boy tries that threk with Pixie.  All sorts of things happen to people who torque her off."  She smiled, not pleasantly.  "Yeah.  He won't be able to help himself.  Maybe it will even make the papers.

Proteus nodded politely.  There was something odd about this woman.  Something different, beyond the obvious outward physiognomy.  However, a certain measure of research had been obvious (including that article in Meta! last March).  "I think you will enjoy this."

Sh'heyla rolled her eyes.  Little meatballs in some sort of a white sauce.  A tray of sandwich meats and breads.  Legumes of some sort mixed with nuts and drizzled with something that smelled vaguely piscine.  I'd have better luck at McDonalds.  So far she'd only downed some of the punch.  "Surprise me," she said, grumpily.

"I asked the chefs to make this recipe in particular for you."  He reached back to an as-yet unopened chafing dish, and opened it.  Inside --

Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared.  

"Lightly steamed whole-leaf fresh spinach.  A bit of fennel and oregano sprinkled across it in a butter sauce.  Whole cranberries and a cranberry relish mixed in."

She stared at the dish, then looked at the non-descript man in his white jumpsuit.  "Proty, don't tell anyone, but we might get along just fine."

Proteus smiled at her.  Two new friends in one day.  I must be doing something right.

*     *     *

The building interior looked like a cathedral, with ranks of pews, intricately-carved stone pillars that stretched into indistinct vault marching down the sides, glorious stained glass images letting in a kaleidoscope of light, and a grand, open area at one end, behind a rail and scrood, where once stood an immense altar.

Bear in mind, once more, that the location actually was nothing like this, but can be considered as such for purposes of this narrative.

Where once was the altar was instead a great, round stone table.  Seven figures sat about it, in high-backed wooden chairs.  A mist seemed to fill the room, which made the different peope about the table difficult to see, unless one peered carefully.  In the center of the table was a golden flame, seeming to flicker in slow motion, and within that flame were visible tiny figures. 

"They're all together," Sam said.  "What are you waiting for?"

"The right moment," Bob replied.

"The right moment is now."

"Impatience?"  Bob raised an eyebrow.  "They say patience is a virtue."

"They know very little."  By Sam's side, flames rose higher.

"Then trust me when I say waiting for the right moment is important to them.  It will make what we are doing all the more effective."  Bob smiled, bright teeth gleaming.  "Or say I simply have grown to appreciate irony from them."

Karen nodded.  "The right time is important."

Sam looked at her and, despite himself, shuddered.  The flames died down.

"Soon," Bob promised.  "Very soon."

"It was very soon," Mia suddenly spoke up, shaking her head as though abruptly waking up fro a deep slumber.  "Soon."  She echoed, and silence fell around them in the grand, empty cathedral.

*     *     *

Victor took a bite of the sandwich -- Tony's very good about getting good roast beef.  I'll have to thank him again. -- and watched how the group was coming together.  Copper seemed to be getting along with everyone.  Zebra was the obvious problem, as had been expected.  Ace had warned him, but clearly it had been a good idea to keep the two "beasts" well-separated by some hundreds of miles.  

Tommy was still withdrawn, though he showed some excitement about Copper.  It was a shame Donato had ended up going to Chicago, too -- he could make anyone smile, and feel good about it -- but that's the way things went.

Iris was still limping slightly, though the med unit had taken care of most of the inflammation and tissue tears, and had pumped in enough further chemicals to have her back up to 100% by the evening.  She had been properly abashed to explain what had happened, and he was already working out a training regimen for her.  He was also quite pleased that they have a flier on the team once again.

Proteus -- well, he was being Proteus, always curious about strangers and how they behaved.  A regular mystery man, that one was -- but a loyal comrade-in-arms, too.

Of course, he knew about mysteries and secret origins.  That little knot in his stomach was still there.  Snap out of it, man.  There's work to do.

He stepped forward to begin his speech.

*     *     *

"Very soon," Bob said.  His right hand, index finger and middle finger extended together, hovered near the golden flames.

*     *     *

"Folks, can I have your attention, please?"  The bits of conversation came to a halt.  "I can't tell you how happy I am that we're all here together.  This is a great opportunity to learn from one another, in terms of processes and procedures, techniques --"  Victor smiled, slightly.  "And, perhaps, in terms of learning how to deal with, ah, rambunctious team mates."

That drew a chuckle from everyone, even Zebra.

"This room, when it's not full of food -- and, Copper, sorry, we weren't even thinking; we'll make sure there's some saved in the kitchen fridge if you want to have some later.  Anyway, this room is the nerve center of the Big Heroes HQ.  Zebra, Copper, we'll be showing you how we use the systems here to monitor what's going on here in New York, and around the Eastern Seaboard.  We try to keep someone on duty here whenever we can.  I keep hoping to boost our membership, but we've been running light for a few years now.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say, once again, welcome.  I hope we'll all enjoy your stay here in the Big Apple."

*     *     *

Bob smiled.  "Irony," he commented, and gestured with his outstretched fingers.

*     *     *

The large room was empty.  The only sign that anyone had been there were the punch cups and plates of food, dropped on the floor when the folks holding them had vanished. 

On the monitor board, a small red light began to flash.

*     *     *

In a very expensive, expansive office, the man behind the desk laughed, a low, dry chuck.  Irony, indeed.

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Copyright © 2001 David C. Hill