The day is a pleasant 75 degrees in the city, with a small chance of showers later this evening. It is May, it is a Friday, and it is the 11th. It is the year 2012, and it is shortly after 10:00 AM.
The Stone sits in the harbor, three miles out, but still overshadowing the City (or at least the harbor district) to a large degree. The Stone is perhaps a half a mile square, though very little of the surface of the rock is actually level enough to consider building on. Still, at the highest point, a brass beacon reflects light into the city, and atop that is the ever-burning torch of justice.
The Stone is also your destination, today. It's manned by some of the greatest heroes the City has ever known:
Ares, who claims to be from Mars is the leader of the Justice Force. With his powers of flame and his amazing tactical prowess, he would be an asset to any army. Added to that his powers of fire and his immense strength make the being that looks like a greek god to often be believed to be one.
The Deflector, sometimes known as the Mirror Man.
The Ray, (though, she will insist that it's spelled 'Raye') fastest woman on Earth.
The Guardian, a hulking iron-bound brute.
And of course, Foxglove, the vanishing woman with the lingering smile.
The sign posted before the ferry to the Stone, of course, shows all of their smiling visages beaming a grin at whomever looks at it (except for the Guardian, who just looks less irritated than usual). "The City Needs Defenders!" reads the top of the noticeboard. Added to the glossy, photo-quality display is a hastily photocopied picture that only suffers for being a color copy. Still, the legendary Captain Morris Ash (then dressed in his Distr-Action!-man uniform) is on a flyer labeled 'Take one!' (though, this is poorly crossed out). Simple directions to this very sign follow, if you think you have heroic qualities about you.
Below that is a newstand, and behind both of them is the wharf, leading to the ferry, which is apparently gone.
Currently, this area is empty.
As we watch, however, hero-potentates enter the scene....
OOC: You appear on this dock in the order you post. It's up to you how you arrive (in your super-heroic ID, as your normal self, in a car, falling off a building, etc.) I know I haven't given a lot of background information out, but that's mostly because I'd like to try and work a lot of that into the story. If you need to know something, I'm usually PMable, and after next week when my promotion goes through, my schedule will be fixed (yay!).
So. Game on!
The harbour is still, with that restful noise that only undisturbed swell of waves can bring.
But to the careful eye, there is more mist in the air, out beyond the edge of the wharf, than can be explained by the spray of waves beating against the quay. Before long, it becomes clear that it is not mist, but steam -- and then the Gargoyle hauls his massive frame out of the water and onto the wharf, water hissing and skittering across his rocky hide.
Blazing eyes survey the area, noting with some relief the absence of people in the area -- there's only so many times you can deal with nuns throwing rocks at you before it gets a little upsetting. Having determined the coast is clear, he makes his way over to the notice board, and takes one of the leaflets.
Hal parks his taxi somewhere near the wharf in a relatively inconspicuous spot. Then, unseen, he dons his super costume and The Shoveller moves to where he can watch the notice board unobserved.
He sees Gargoyle's impressive entrance and considers. Clearly either this is a clever villain seeking to infiltrate a new hero team, or a tragic hero shunned by society for his inhuuman appearance, yet doing the right thing anyway.
The Shoveller strides forward, a smile on his face and his signature weapon slung over his shoulder.
The Gargoyle sees the approach of the Shoveller and flinches slightly. But as it becomes clear that the intent of the Shoveller is not, in fact, to attack him with the aim of defending the city, he relaxes slightly. Besides, the whole point of becoming a hero is that this shouldn't be a problem any more, right?
As the tall man strides closer, he ventures a welcoming grin; the fact that the misty sky is lit up by the greenish-white flames flicking at the back of his revealed jagged fangs ruins the effect somewhat. "Hi," he says, his voice the basso rumble of bones being crushed under the jagged rocks of Hell. "Here for the try-outs?"
Unfortnately, the two heroes' casual conversation is rather rudely interrupted by a cry far overhead of "HUZZAH!"
Or it would be, except that the triumphant shout comes out something more like "HUZZ-*gurk*" and is followed a few seconds later by a gigantic *THUNG*, the sound resembling nothing so much as an oil drum being dropped off the top of a building.
The mists part a few moments later to reveal a large... metal... something. It seems to be about five feet tall, perhaps eight wide, and a couple of feet thick. Two flap-like appendages protrude from either side, two stubby feet from the... top? and at the moment these are unfortunately the only distinguishing features of the thing, whatever it is.
The flaps and feet begin to wave about after a few minutes, with a "Fthphth" noise emerging from the other side of the metallic object. "Stupid seagulls..."
The Gargoyle exchanges a mystified glance with the Shoveller, and then makes his way over to the recently arrived... refridgerator? Reaching out with a massive clawed hand, he lifts the new arrival, putting him on what he hopes are its feet. "Are you, uh, all right?"
The Shovellor stares in confusion for a moment then also approaches the...refridgerator. "Are you all right? That looked rather painful."
The voice that emerges from the squat, blocky thing is rather cheerful, for all that it just fell a few hundred feet and landed on its head. "Nah, it's okay - landed on my head, so it's no big deal."
The face that appears when the thing is righted is... unique, to say the least. It's about the size of a TV screen, with extremely large eyes, a cheerful expression, and two colored 'straps' running either side of the face, giving the oblong person the look of a rather perky suitcase.
"Is this where they're having the hero tryouts? I heard a rumor that they were looking for heroes here, and I thought I could give it a try."
"I, uh, think so," rumbles the Gargoyle. "Though it doesn't really look like it, to be honest." He looks around the abandoned wharf again, searching for any sign of the departed ferry. "Anyways, I'm, uh, the Gargoyle, I guess. Pleased to meet both of you." He offers a massive, dusky-red paw, steaming slightly in the mist.
As the trio of would-be heroes stand on the dock making their introductions, a plume of water is seen jetting up against the Stone in the distance. Looking more closely, anyone can see in the bright daylight that a small vessel is heading towards the harbor. With luck, that's the ferry that will take you back to the Stone.
But even with the impressive plume of water rising behind it, it's still going to take a few minutes to reach the wharf.
"Pleased to meetcha, I'm Balrog! I'd, uh, shake, but arms aren't exactly my strong point," he says with an embarrassed grin, flapping the small appendages at his sides to emphasize the point.
"And I am the Shoveller." He shakes hands with anyone willing to. "Excuse me, um, Balrog. How did you end up plummeting out of the sky? And I'm a bit confused by your name. You don't look like anyone I saw in the Lord of the Rings movies."
"Movie?" the squat box looks puzzled for a moment. "Ooooh yeah, I remember hearing something about that - it's from some book, right? Well, I'm the original," Balrog says with a self-important grin. "And I can fly, too, see?"
To illustrate the point, the flaps at his sides morph into tiny bat-like wings, nowhere near large enough to support Balrog's weight - yet, with a determined flapping, he does slowly rise off the ground. "See? I would have landed better, except I think I inhaled a seagull."
To accentuate the point, he makes a face, spitting out a feather a moment later. "I hate the waterfront."
The Shoveller scratches his head, wondering when he became the straight man for the group. "So you say you're the original balrog? Excuse my saying so, but you don't look at all like I'd imagined a whip wielding demon of fire and darkness would look like. You're a lot more cheerful as well."
The Gargoyle is visibly uncomfortable with the direction that this conversation has taken, and is peering out to watch the ferry's progress, whistling nonchalantly. Or trying to, rather -- in reality, it sounds a bit like a musical welding torch.
The ferry continues puttering towards the wharf at a pace which is probably quite fast -- it's throwing up a huge plume of water, after all. But from here, it's taking its time and can best be called ... plodding.
Another person joins the three would-be heroes standing on the wharf. This is a boy of probably no more than twelve, in what's likely a home-made costume. It's mainly white and blue, with a blue cape, and a black mask. There's no obvious symbol or name on his costume, but he is holding a small device with a blinking screen, occasionally prodding at it.
He glances up when he realizes other people are also on the dock. "Greetings!" he says with far too much enthusiasm. "What's up, fellow heroes?"
"One less seagull," the Gargoyle mutters sotto voce.
"Eh, the big-scary-demon-of-fire thing just isn't me," Balrog replies. "I mean, really - getting the brimstone smell out of everything would be a total pain, and all the fire and darkness stuff? Thanks, but I'd LIKE to have a place to live without burning it down just walking inside."
Glancing over at the area's local demon-lookalike, he looks somewhat abashed. "Er... no offense meant."
"Hey, don't look at me," the Gargoyle says defensively. "I'm not a demon."
The boy blinks, seeming to only just at that moment realize his present company. His smile turns somewhat sickly and he takes a step backwards, turning a hopeful gaze to the Shoveler. "Um, hi?" he tries.
"This is Gargoyle, this is Balrog, and I am the Shoveller. What's your name?"
"I'm B-" He cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle. "I mean, I'm Action Kid! I'm going to be the Distr-Action!-man's side-kick!" He even puts special emphasis on Captain Ash's heroic name. "I can't wait to meet him," he adds, still somewhat nervous of Balrog and the Gargoyle.
"Is that our boat?" At this point, the ferry is a little over three quarters of the distance to the quay.
"I...see." The Shoveller sighs. "Just don't get your hopes up, this is hero tryouts, they might be having sidekick tryouts some other time."
Balrog sighs. "I've done the sidekick thing before - believe me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Stupid Misery..."
He falls off into muttering under his breath at that, only the word "frog" popping up as distinguishable at one point.
The Action Kid looks at Balrog in confusion. "I've never heard of a superhero called Misery," he says with a shake of his head, one eye on the approaching boat. Now it's near enough to make out some detail, and the whine of the engine comes into earshot -- though as soon as it does, it also subsides.
Balrog coughs at that. "Uh.. you wouldn't have, it was a long way away from here," he explains, looking slightly embarrassed - insofar as that's possible for an ambulatory suitcase.
The Gargoyle frowns suddenly. It's not really a pleasant sight. "Hey," he says to the Shoveller. "Wait a minute. You were in a movie, weren't you? Are you really William Macy? Because, no offense, the camera really doesn't do you any favours."
"No, I'm not him," The Shoveller replies. "But I did find his performance very inspiring; he helped me find my gift."
"You got your powers from the movie?" the Gargoyle asks. This is obviously a much better approach than his.
"I was watching it..." The Shoveller doen't mention *how* many times he watched it. "...and it struck me that I could do that, too. Of course, there was a certain lack of ranged attacks, so I added these." He points to his bandolier of thrown spades.
"Oh," says the Gargoyle. There isn't much to say to that, as he's relatively confident it's against superhero etiquette to ask, "So, what, you've got no powers?"
"I shovel well. I shovel very well."
Further conversation is momentarily interrupted by the arrival of the ferry. The craft is decently sized, and would probably fit twenty people comfortably. Or six to seven Balrog and Gargoyle-sized people.
It appears to be automated (the thing looks empty) and it emits a chime as it bumps against the tires attached to the side of the quay. At the same time, a metal hook descends and latches from the foreship to a loop on one of the pylons; another from the rear. After the hooks attach, the boat winches them in until the side is flush with the quay, and then the chime sounds again.
Then a prerecorded voice says, "Thank you for applying to join the City's defense! This automated craft will depart in: Five minutes. Please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times." A moment later, a somewhat different voice says, "Gracias por aplicarse para ensamblar la defensa de la City! Este arte automatizado saldrá en: Cinco minutos. Guarde por favor sus manos y brazos dentro del vehículo siempre."
'Action Kid', "Ooooh,"s softly and says, "Caramba!"
"They get THAT many applicants?" Balrog says, his mouth hanging open. "I never realized heroes were so COMMON..."
"Or they're ready for applicants that are larger than..." the Shoveller looks at Balrog and Gargoyle. "...average. Besides, I exoect the boat is used for other things."
"I suppose we should be going." He boards the boat.
"Good plan," the Gargoyle concurs, making his way aboard the ferry.
"Umm.... I hope this thing is more solid than it looks," Balrog says after a few moments before hestitantly hopping off the dock and into the boat - sadly, the feet he has are not exactly ideal for navigating steps and stairs.
After Balrog, the Action Kid happily leaps onto the vessel -- almost. He spends a comical instant clinging to the railing before he manages to hoist himself up and scramble over. "Too much gear," he says, abashedly.
The boat's hidden speakers emit a chime, and the prerecorded voice says, "This vehicle will depart in: two minutes," followed by the second voice's, "Este vehículo saldrá en: dos minutos."
"They can't really expect a hero who doesn't know English, can they?" Action Kid asks the Shoveler, sidling up to the most human of the applicants on the boat.
Seemingly at the last minute, a semi-tall, slightly balding man wearing sunglasses and a trench coat hurries towards the pier, with a cry of "Wait!" His reluctance to be too conspicuous becomes clear as he climbs in the boat; dead ringers for deceased ex-presidents tend to be a little unnerving.
To the people he encountered in daily life near his small apartment in New York, he has always been a "nephew" of the 34th president. The truth behind his rebirth at the hands of those wacky fellows at the CIA was lost years ago in paper files somewhere at the bottom of a crate. The tongue-in-cheek yet endearing nickname of "Eisenpower" is all he cares to retain from that era of his life.
Now, however, he has gotten wind of the city's offer, and decided to do something other than read Zane Grey novels and play Golf. He has newly arrived to town, but has spent a decent amount of time looking at maps and attempting to familiarize himself with the area.
He looks at his companions for a minute. The large beast-like man strikes him as a bit peculiar, but is eclipsed in bizarreness by what seems to be a giant, animated toaster. After a brief pause, he offers his hand and a broad smile.
"Hi, I'm Dwight."
The Gargoyle puts forward a massive bony mass of talons, smoking slightly in the chill air. "Please to meet you," he grates politely, "I'm the Gargyole."
Balrog waves a stubby flap at the newcomer. "I'm Balrog, pleased to meetcha! I'd offer to shake, but... yeah. Arms. Kinda need those."
Action Kid furrows his brow as the boat's recording announces, "The vehicle is now departing. Thank you for applying for City defense!" followed by the requisite, "El vehículo ahora está saliendo. ¡Gracias por solicitar defensa de la ciudad!" The vessel accelerates slowly until it reaches the immense speed it crossed the bay with -- though the movement is gradual enough that no one is knocked over.
"What a sweet ride," he comments, before adding to Dwight, "I'm Action Kid, a sidekick looking for a hero. You know ... you look kind of familiar, like I should know you from somewhere."
Dwight shakes with Gargoyle, noting a very warm sensation as he does so. Dwight, having resigned himself to the inevitability of revealing his identity to the public that goes with being a distinctive super-hero, is still a bit wary.
"Yeah, kid," he says. "That's possible."
"Por que? Es posible," The Shoveller answers Action Kid's question about langauges.
After the others have introduced themselves, he then addresses the newcomer. "I suspect you get rather tired of people commenting on the similarity." He smiles and offers his hand. "I'm the Shoveller, pleased to meet you. What should we call you?"
Dwight looks at the Shoveler. "Either Dwight or Ike is fine," he says.
The Shoveller blinks. "Um, isn't that taking the resemblance a bit far? besides, I meant your super identity."
"That's my super identity," Dwight says. "Dwight D. Eisenpower. It's a long story."
"I...see," the Shoveller replies. "Dwight, then?"
The vessel's already quiet engines whir down as the Stone approaches, now threatening to blot out the sun. Currently, the ship appears to be drifting at a good clip into the sheer granite walls dead ahead.
"Boy, I uh, can't wait to see the garage door on this thing," Action Kid says, a trifle nervously. "I mean, they do have one, right?"
"I hope so," Balrog says, looking a bit worried. "I mean, I can manage if they DON'T have one, but I don't think I could get the whole boat inside or anything."
The Shoveller shrugs. "Whoever we're meeting has seemed competent so far. Why wouldn't things open properly?"
This latest query seems to create an awkward pause, which stretches uncomfortably over the boat. Perhaps they are ruminating over the fact that they are accepting an offer from someone who they know nothing about, or perhaps the similarity to the opening of a certain Agatha Christie plot involving Indians and a remote island is surfacing in the back of a few of their minds.
"So," Dwight ventures forward, "any guesses as to what we can expect the Welcoming Committee to look like?"
"Lasers," the Gargoyle rumbles.
Balrog winces at that. "Better lasers than missiles," he mutters. "I hate choking on the exhaust."
"Maybe there'll be a firepit," the Gargoyle offers. "I like fire."
As the craft draws closer to the Stone, a large section of it simply folds outward, and then sinks below the waters, revealing a cavernous opening within. Inside is an exceedingly well-lit hangar, housing a pair of identical craft. The boat idles in slowly, allowing everyone a chance to look around before the rock rises and seals behind.
The area inside is probably at least the size of a football stadium, and the boat is currently headed towards the pier where the other two craft rest, moored by auto-cables. None of the heroes seem to be in sight, though.
"I can't even see the seams!" Action Kid says in a voice of subdued awe. "Awesome engineering!"
"You know," says the Gargoyle, "I'm not really feeling the love here. Wouldn't it be at least sorta polite to stick their heads down and say, 'Hey, howya doin'?'?"
"Yeah... not even anyone here to meet us? What's up with that?" Balrog replies, casting a dubious look at the dock. "I mean, where the heck are we supposed to go from here?"
"Perhaps it's some sort of test?" suggests Dwight.
"I'm not really good at testing."
After a moment, the boat comes to a smooth halt, and the auto-cables moor it between the other two identical craft. The prerecorded voice doesn't come on, but the gangplank does automatically descent. At the pier, an open (and very solid looking -- bank-vault-type solid) door awaits. It's large enough for Balrog and the Gargoyle to walk through side-by-side, but from the boat you can see nothing other than a crimson-carpeted stairway leading up.
"Keen!" Despite his excitement, Action Kid is not the first one on the pier.
The Gargoyle has no such hesitation, and descends from the pier, his claws making an unpleasant screeching noise on the metal surface. "Ain't getting anywhere by waiting," he rumbles.
"I suppose that's true," mumbles Dwight, as he climbs out of the boat, wincing slightly at the high-pitched screech of claws-on-metal.
In short order the group disembarks, the ship's engine self-powers-down, and the vault door is crossed. Within is a thick, plush red carpet that appears to be spilling down the stairs ahead. The stairs go up probably about three stories, and are wide enough to accomodate a flung buffet table. This comparison is backed up by the fact that lying on the floor just inside the door ... is an overturned buffet table. Along with a number of spilled dishes, which are splattered around messily. At the top of the stairs, the indisctint sounds of an argument can be heard. One voice is low, rumbling, and petulant. The other is high-pitched, nearly a shriek.
Action Kid looks decidedly nervous, and stays just behind the Shoveller.
"Hmm," says Dwight, taking in the surroundings, "it looks like 'Bob's Big Boy' and 'The Shrieker' caught the earlier boat. I hope we're not interrupting something."
"Let's find out," the Gargoyle rumbles. He makes his way to the stairs, and then hesitates. "We're coming up," he shouts out, "and I want to be clear that I'm not a demon! Just so no one jumps the gun or holy water or anything!"
The feminine voice snaps, "Look, they're already here, you idiot! Get the backup table, and I'll try and stall them until the room is set up!" A moment later, Foxglove peers over the top of the staircase and looks down at the would-be-heroes (and side-kick).
"Hi there!" she says cheerily, before she freezes, blinking with a smile stuck on her face. "Uh. You're sure you're not a demon?"
As everyone watches, the woman in the skintight black-and-red bodysuit begins to fade from sight, until only a ghostly outline remains. "Really sure?"
"Yes, really sure!" the Gargoyle snaps, and the momentary irritation makes the fire behind his eyes and teeth surge for a moment before he calms himself down again. "Very sure. Yes. So, uh, hi. I'm -- uh, we're here for the interview?"
"O...oh," Foxglove replies after a moment. Then her eyes -- barely visible as they are, go to the buffet table lying next to the heroes, and she winces. "Um...." Behind her is a slowly rising, but furious clamor, and scattered throughout it is the sound of voices arguing, and the scraping of something large or heavy -- or both -- being dragged across a floor.
"Sooo.... How did you enjoy the ride to the Stone?"
"It was, uh, okay," the Gargoyle rumbles. "Comfortable. Kinda slow, though, if you don't mind me sayin'. Uh, is this a bad time?"
"No, no!" she protests quickly, her smile showing, even if she is mostly faded. "Everything's--" She glances behind her and winces at the sound of another crash and more heated arguing. "Fine! Just fine!"
The Shoveller raises an eyebrow. "I...see."
"Um," Dwight puts forward tentatively, "do you need, uh, help with anything?"
"No, no," she says quickly, reappearing (somewhat -- she's still a bit fuzzy in the middle, though her outline is clearer). "Um, so, why don't you tell me about yourselves?"
"I'm the Gargoyle. I'm strong, and tough, and, uh..." he waves a hand at himself, as if to convey, 'What you see is what you get.'
"And I'm the Shoveller." He smiles. "I shovel well. I shovel very well."
"That's.... That's really neat," Foxglove says with a nod. "And what about-"
Which is as far as she gets before someone streaks into sight and stops just before her. This is Raye, in her blue-yellow skin-tight speedsuit. "Heya!" she cheers. "Why y'all waitin' down there? Come on up! Have somethin' ta eat!"
She's gone just as quickly as she left and Foxglove becomes completely visible, looking irritably over her shoulder. "Um."
"Right, then," says Dwight, beginning to climb the stairs. "As for me, I'm Dwight D. Eisenpower. ...Don't ask," he adds, "it's a long story. But you can just call me 'Ike.'"
After a brief pause, he says, "Anyway, who in the blue blazes was that?"
"I'm... uh... Balrog?" the giant toaster/refrigerator/suitcase offers, edging around Gargoyle to get a better look at what's going on. "I can fly, and not much can really stop me, at least not for very long."
Sidestepping a bit, he tries to get a better look at their host - it's not easy getting out of a boat with six-inch legs, and harder still to get a look past a group of people when you're only three feet tall. "Why is there a table in the middle of the floor, anyway? Upside-down, I mean."
"There's food upstairs," the Shoveller says to Balrog. He glances at the stairwell to see if there's the slightest hope of Balrog being able to fly up it. "Um, do yu eat?"
"Uh ... that's...." She trails off lamely, then brightens and says, "So, hey, come on up!" The stairs are wide enough to accommodate Balrog and the Gargoyle comfortably ... though the steps might be a bit high for the waddling appliance.
"How are you with stairs?" the Shoveller asks Balrog.
The Gargoyle cuts to the chase of the manner by picking Balrog up and lumbering up the stairs with over-sized toaster in hand. He pauses briefly when the stairs groan under their combined mass, but manages to make the top unhindered, where he puts Balrog down again. "There you go," he rumbles.
The Shoveller attempts to stifle a chuckle and follows up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, Foxglove is looking back over her shoulder (somewhat reproachfully) at Raye. The two super heroines are standing together in front of a buffet table that's almost identical to the one at the bottom of the staircase. Almost, of course, because this one is still upright, and covered with all manner of food. Standing behind the table is the massive figure of the Guardian, who is busily loading up an oversize plate with mashed potatoes.
The Shoveller takes a plate and starts down the table, trying a bit of several differnet things.
The Guardian makes an approving grunt, then backs away towards the far wall. There are a number of chairs there, including one extra-large bench that's the right scale for Gargoyle or Guardian-sized figures. It's unlikely that Balrog can actually even sit.
The Action Kid is staring up at the Guardian as though awestruck. "He's huge," he stage-whispers to Eisenpower. "He looks only kinda big on T.V., not like ... huge!"
Meat. Images of raw, dripping sides of beef fill the Gargoyle's head for a moment, but luckily there are no such "delicacies" present to tempt him. Instead he very deliberate takes a plate of fried potatoes and lumbers over to sit on the bench. There's only a minor pause as he realizes that this means he'll have to sit beside the Guardian. The Guardian.
It's kind of impressive to watch a seven foot fiery stone monster try and hunch up and make himself inconspicuous.
The Guardian eyes the Gargoyle and nods, between shoveling spoofuls of ... no, on closer examination, he actually is eating with a trowel. He is literally shoveling away the mashed potatoes and fried chicken. The bones don't seem to slow him down much.
"So, anyway," Foxglove says, "um, introductions! Everyone, this is the Guardian." After an uncomfortable pause, punctuated only by the sound of a stray bone being casually crunched between massive teeth, she adds, "Um, he doesn't speak. Sorry." She looks embarrassed, though the Guardian himself merely shrugs. And continues shoveling.
Now that the Gargoyle is closer, the Guardian is a bit over seven feet tall. About five of them. It probably takes a lot of protein to keep a guy that big running.
Raye rolls her eyes. "Everyone's got their quirks, hon, it ain't no big thang. Now, let's see 'bout gettin' Cap'n Obvious 'roun' for y'all." With that, she vanishes so quickly that her wavering afterimage takes a moment to flicker away.
Foxglove sighs, hanging her head. "Can't even behave for guests," she moans.
The Shoveller smiles at Foxglove. "Raye was right, don't worry about it. so long as Gargoyle and Gaurdian don't get into an eating contest, eveything should be fine." He considers a moment. "Unless the Captain doesn't want a sidekick, I think that's why Action Kid is here."
He glances between the table, the plates, and Balrog's stubby limbs. "Do you need help eating? Do you eat, for that matter?"
"Well, plenty of things look different on TV," Ike says to Action Kid. He puts a decent amount of food on his plate, and starts walking to a chair. He looks up at Foxglove and remarks hopefully, "I don't suppose you have any prune whip, do you?"
"Prune whip?" she asks with a blink. "I don't think I've ever even-"
"Behind the pie," Raye interrupts, pointing.
"Oh. Right." Foxglove looks behind herself to where Raye is surveying the table. "Any luck finding the captain?"
Action Kid manages to tear his gaze away from the Guardian at that. "Is he coming?" he asks excitedly.
"Soon," Raye agrees. "Real soon. He just had some last things ta finish talkin' 'bout with Ares."
"Um..." Balrog thinks for a minute. "I don't actually eat much, so I'll just pass for now."
The fact that quite a few of Misery's comments about his eating habits were... less than pleasant doesn't even cross his mind. Nope, didn't think about that at ALL.
The double-doors at one side of the room open up, admitting the tall and burning figure of Ares, wreathed in flame. At his side (only, two thirds his height) is the Distr-Action!-Man himself, though, the two are caught up in a debate.
"...more credence," Captain Ash says, shooting his taller, more fiery companion a stern look.
Ares's voice is filled with the sound of raging fire, but he says, "I run this operation, and you will run yours. They're separate, and that-" He cuts off, suddenly, turning to look at the assembled prospective heroes. Ares himself and the Captain are about equally prominent. Something about the Captain just draws the eye. And of course, Ares is about ten feet tall, and on fire. Kind of hard to miss, that. Coughing quietly, Ares brushes one hand through the ever-burning flame of the plumes on his fiery helm. "Er," he says, instead, eyes lingering on Balrog and the Gargoyle before he focuses on Action Kid.
Action Kid has frozen statue-rigid, eyes locked on the Captain. Face splitting in a wide grin, the Captain poses briefly, and says, "Welcome!"
The Gargoyle waves a claw in greeting. "Hi," he manages, the flames in the depths of his maw temporarily concealed by a surfeit of potatoes.
"Thank you," the Shoveller answers.
"Right," Ares says, frowning. "I'll leave this to you, then, Ash."
"Thank you," the Distr-Action!-Man says, beaming a smile at his prospective new team. "Let's get this started! Okay, first up, so ... tall, toothy, and stony, what makes you want to be a hero?"
The Gargoyle blinks, and scratches at his horns -- the sound is probably what Satan's chalkboard would sound like. "Uh," he says eloquently. "I mean, everyone wants to do something useful with their life, and there's not really a lot of other job opportunities for a guy like me?"
"Being a hero is the best vocation!" he agrees quickly. He scans across the room, and then settles his gaze on the Shoveller. "Now, you I think I've seen somewhere before. You look very familiar...."
"I get that a lot," the Shoveller answers with a smile.
"I suspect I'm not the only one." He gestures towards Ike.
The captain nods his agreement at that. "I'm sure I know you," he says to Eisenpower with a grin. "Well...." He trails off and blinks, looking at Action Kid. "Er. A bit young to be a hero, aren't you?"
"I'm not a hero!" Action Kid protests, shaking nervously, his eyes wide with awe and hero-worship. "I'm a sidekick!"
"That's great! Who are you a sidekick for?"
At that, Action Kid locks up, unable to form a reply beyond stuttering and looking to Ike and the Shoveller for support.
"I think he's applying for the position of sidekick," the Shoveller says.
"Yeah," Action Kid manages, spurred into action by the Shoveler. "That's right! I want to be a sidekick!"
"Woah, now," Captain Ash says, his smile fading. "Being a sidekick is dangerous business, you know."
"I know, but.... But I'm really good with tools! See, I made my own protective cape!" He flourishes it over his head and hides behind it. It looks, realistically, no different from a normal cape, if it does have protective properties. "See, an electrostatic shield hardens the cloth like iron!" he says, though his voice is muffled. Then he tips over, and his cape 'clangs' against the ground while he says, "Ow!"
Ash moves to help the boy up, but apparently Action Kid hits the release for the power, and the cape goes back to normal. He springs to his feet and says, "Ta--dah!"
Rubbing his chin, the former Distr-Action!-Man asks, "Well.... If we're going to be a superhero team, what do you all think about this?"
"Sounds good to me, I guess," says Dwight, pausing while enjoying the prune whip. "Um... anyone else?"
"That sounds good to me, too," the Shoveller adds.
"He's, uh, your sidekick, though, right, not ours?"
"That seems pretty obvious from him picking the name Action Kid, isn't it?" the Shoveller says.
"I'm just checkin'. I mean, it's the, uh, side-*kicker's* responsibility to look after the side-kick, right? So the question is whether he wants a sidekick, not whether we're okay with it. I mean, I'm not even a hero yet, what do I know from side-kicks?"
"Yeah, he'd definitely be the, um, sidekicker's responsibility, not ours," the Shoveller replies. "A lot of heroes don't have sidekicks at all and those heroes that do, have different things they're looking for." The Shoveller is looking for leggy, brunette, and streetlegal, but he does not say that.
"Well, there you have it!" the Distr-Action!-Man says. "Only, the thing is, I'm actually changing my superhero name. From now on, I'm going to be Captain Obvious!" He looks at Action Kid. "Will Action Kid fit in there?"
"What if I was Hypothetical Boy, instead?" Action Kid asks, raising an eyebrow.
"That just might work!" the newly-re-christened Captain Obvious says, grinning. "We'll worry about your costume later. For the meantime, what crime-fighting experience do you have?" He then raises his gaze from the blinking, stuttering sidekick. "What experience do you have, too?"
Dwight thinks for a minute before responding, "Um, I don't know if you would call it 'crimefighting,' per say, but do World War II and the Korean War count?"
The Shoveller scrathes his head. "I've heard Korea was a 'police action', so that kind of sounds like crimefighting to me. And the Nazis were tried for war crimes, so that sounds like crimefighting, too."
His expression turns a bit sheepish. "I haven't done anything near as impressive, just stopped muggers and stuff. Never fought a real supervillain yet."
The Gargoyle remains conspicuously silent.