Note: This takes place sometime between Untold Tales #150 and #151
Dominic Clancy put the last of his Office of Paranormal Security issued pencils in his Office of Paranormal Security issued coffee mug. He slid off the drum to his Office of Paranormal Security issued pencil sharpener and shook the shavings held within into the Office of Paranormal Security issued waste basket.
Then he looked around the room that would serve as his work station while a member of the Lair Legion. Even with all of his sundries unpacked and primed, he still didn’t feel any better about the situation; which was a surprise, because new office supplies were usually a pleasant distraction.
Mr. Epitome could detect a fresh distraction making her way down the hall. There were parts to the Lair Mansion his hyper senses could not penetrate, but the common areas were free of such barriers. It was because of this he heard the tak-tak-tak of Lisa Waltz’s high heels stabbing into the oak paneled floor. The Paragon of Power unfolded the room’s other Office of Paranormal Security issued metal chair and set it down across from his Office of Paranormal Security issued utility table so the woman would have a place to sit when she entered.
“Hey, all settled in yet?” the First Lady of the Lair Legion poked her head into the room.
“Yes, thank you for asking.”
Lisa came through the door nodding to herself, surveying the cramped conditions of the room, “Sorry this is the best we can do for now, but if we gave you an office then everybody would be clamoring for one, and there’d be arguments over who gets the one with the view of the bay, and so on and so forth.”
“Office politics can get petty,” Dominic agreed. He was still standing, waiting for her to either sit or leave. She chose the former.
“You’re not in costume,” the amorous advocatrix noted his tie and shirtsleeves ensemble.
Epitome finally sat, “No. Most of my work is done out of uniform. Miss Waltz, pardon my abruptness, but why are you here?”
She grinned, “I’m the morale officer of the Lair Legion. It’s my job to check on the spirits of the troops. So, how you feeling big guy?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not pissed at having to work with us by governmental fiat?”
“I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States,” Epitome replied, giving the woman a well-laid straight line.
“That sounds dirty. And a perfect segue for your induction ceremony,” Lisa started to stand.
Dominic smirked slightly, “I trust Miss Waltz is familiar with Section 703(a)(1) of Title VII, 42 U.S.C. § 2000e-2(a): the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission’s guidelines on sexual harassment? Especially in regards to the matter of actions promoting a hostile work environment?”
She leaned over the table and matched his smile, “It’s only hostile if it’s unwelcome.”
“Yes, well, let’s call it unprofessional and leave it at that. What I really need your help with is getting a copy of the Lair Legion charter. Your organization’s artificial intelligence won’t allow me access to it.”
Lisa sniffed and shrugged, “I’ll see what I can do. Our bylaws are very… fluid. What’s on file today may be obsolete tomorrow.”
“Due to your capriciousness, I’m sure,” the Man of Might got ready to launch into a lecture, but the alarms cut him off.
“Trouble in the city,” Lisa straightened, “Let’s go.”
*****
After changing into his uniform Mr. Epitome joined Lisa and the only other active member of the Lair Legion on site in the team’s Situation Room. The monitors we’re showing live feed of Paradopolis Police in a brawl with a lanky, gamboling supervillain.
Yo cocked his/her head at the images, “Are others to be seeing what Yo is seeing? Is uncute villain made of Slinkys?”
“No, Yo, you’re right. That’s Armand Braithwaite, the Spring Loaded Man,” Epitome identified him.
The metallic hued foe was as his name advertised: a man with his arms, legs, neck, and torso replaced with thick, powerful coils. He used these appendages to bounce about the swarming police officers, scattering them like tenpins.
“So this is one of your rogues’ gallery?” Lisa asked the American Archetype facetiously.
“Certainly not. I just try to keep informed of the various metahumans that populate the planet,” he explained, “My ‘rogues’ are imprisoned, and I make sure they stay there.”
“Ouchie,” the genderless thought being winced sympathetically after watching a SWAT member carom into a sandwich truck, “Spring Loaded Man playing dirty pool with policemen. Not being fun or wonderful.”
“Miss Waltz, perhaps you should summons Mr. Braithwaite here so we can restrain him properly,” Mr. Epitome suggested.
“No.”
The OPS agent turned and stared aghast at Lisa, “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m not a delivery service. You and Yo can go handle this clown.”
“But it would be far more practical-”
Yo interrupted, “Cute Mr. Epitome should not waste time arguing with cute Lisa. Should instead be getting ready to stop the bad guy.”
Mr. Epitome watched the Zorro attired Legionnaire change genders as s/he spoke, another element of the Parodyverse he felt uncomfortable around, despite the being’s deep affection for his partner Glory, “Fine. How do we get there?”
*****
They ran. Mr. Epitome could not quite break the sound barrier but he moved at speeds fast enough to let him sprint across the choppy surf of Paradopolis Sound. Yo, with the unique ability to perform any feat provided s/he thought s/he could, kept pace.
Spring Loaded Man’s last known whereabouts was outside of Shelton, where he had been caught trying to rob an armored car. His running/bouncing battle with police had taken SLM to a construction site close to the Seedy Town docks, where the old shipyard was being torn down to be replaced by luxury condos. Yo and Epitome arrived in time to rescue a pair of officers from being dropped into the water by Braithwaite’s extendable grasp. The two vaulted onto a dilapidated wharf, each one carrying a shocked but relieved man of the law.
“Armand Braithwaite,” Mr. Epitome intoned, “You are under arrest. Lie on the ground with your hands on top of your head.”
“You want my hands, hero man?! You got ‘em!” From fifteen yards away Spring Loaded Man shot his arms out at Epitome, intending to strangle the life from him.
Dominic sighed and caught SLM by both wrists and held tight. He noticed with surprise that he had to brace himself to keep Braithwaite from retracting his arms.
“Stronger than he looks,” Epitome grunted to Yo as he struggled not to skid across the wharf.
“Yo is to be using teamwork,” the thought being zipped up to Spring Loaded Man and took hold of his legs. S/he heaved mightily, toppling the villain. Yet the Legionnaire did not release him, choosing instead to run in the opposite direction as Epitome. The Man of Might held on, stretching Braithwaite’s arms, midsection, and legs to the point he reached a quarter of a mile long.
“Ah! Quit it! You’re ruining my tensility!” Spring Loaded Man cried.
Mr. Epitome called to his new teammate, “Would you please move about three yards to your right, Yo? Thank you. Now raise you arms fully over your head. Excellent.”
He let go. Spring Loaded Man snapped back towards Yo, who deftly stepped aside and let the villain fly helplessly into the open maw of a cement mixer. SLM splashed into the vehicle’s contents and stuck fast, his appendages bobbing listlessly.
“All fights should be to ending so easily,” Yo announced as s/he hit the lever on the truck to spill its contents onto the ground, “and that concretion of new Lair Legion being as easy too.”
Epitome was surprised at the thought beings choice of words, “Here’s hoping,” he said simply.
*****
After dropping Braithwaite off to what was left of the Safe, Mr. Epitome and Yo ran back to Parody Island. Dominic decided to remove off the salt spray that saturated his body as result of their travels, so he headed down to the Legion’s gym and took a quick shower. He was in the process of drying off when Yo strode in to the locker room wearing only a towel wrapped around his/her waist.
“Hey, guy, leave any of the hot water for Yo?” s/he said boisterously. The thought being was in his/her masculine form, which made the encounter only slightly less embarrassing for the Paragon of Power.
“I imagine there is, yes. Uh, well let me get going-”
“Not so to be leaving so soon. Mister Epitome and Yo need to be talking man to man about things.”
“What things?” Dominic’s eyes narrowed. Yo sounded off right now, and not in the standard Yo-being manner.
“Cute Sir Mumphrey had did inviting Mister Epitome to join Lair Legion to be helping make it better.”
“Right,” Epitome said expectantly.
“Cute Sir Mumphrey is smart. Cute Lisa is smart too. But Cute Mumphrey and Cute Lisa can’t be thinking like Mister Epitome is to be thinking.”
“I don’t understand, Yo.”
“Yes, Epitome does,” the swarthy Yo-man sounded grave, “Epitome does because Yo can be thinking like Mister Epitome can be thinking if Yo believes Yo can be thinking like Mister Epitome. And Yo is to be understanding perfectly.”
Dominic tried not to look concerned, “So what does this mean?”
“Is not fun for Yo to be thinking like Mister Epitome is thinking. Is too Byzantine.”
“The world is a dangerous place, Yo. Sometimes what has to be done to protect it gets complicated.”
“Yo knows. But Yo will not let Mister Epitome do anything uncute to Yo’s friends. Yo is to be clear as crystal on this point,” it was with this s/he walked past Dominic and into one of the shower stalls and turning on the water.
Epitome wanted to say more, but if the thought being was correct and s/he could mimic his thought processes it would be unnecessary. Yo would already be aware of any counter arguments he could make and based on his/her statements found them less than assuring. He quietly put on his street clothes and left.
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