"Although," Darkdoom muttered, "At least now I do actually know what happens when an immovable object meets an irresistible force." –Deadlock, pg 2

Hong Kong: 12 PM

"Maximillian."

"Father."

Nathaniel rose to greet his son, and both men stood stiffly on opposite sides of the table in silence for several long moments. Diabolus watched the impromptu staring contest with a mounting incredulity, before raising his eyes to the heavens and scraping his own seat back loudly, throwing himself in to it with exaggerated force and moving his seat closer to the table with equal fuss. Max glanced at him with an expression akin to a man who had just noticed a fly in his soup (how his friend deplored bad manners!), but Nathaniel smiled, eyes twinkling as if to say he understood the point.

"Darkdoom!" he said, lowering himself back in to his seat. "It's good to see you again. How's the Funhouse working out for you?"

"My own guard patrols keep getting lost in the hall of mirrors." Diabolus grinned. "Intruders don't stand a chance."

"A ludicrously inefficient concept for a baseof operations." Max commented waspishly as he too took his seat. "I assume the actual idea behind it was to find a way to successfully hide from Marisa?"

"Someone's in a foul mood," Nathaniel remarked. "Presumably the cause of this surliness is stems from the fact you're in the middle of trying to relocate hundreds of juvenile delinquents-"

"They aren't delinquent-" Max snapped

"Maximillian." Diabolus interrupted, switching from English to Gothic, one of several extinct languages that his friend had taught himself and then forced Diabolus to learn for the express purpose of being able to hold private conversations, "It's not your father's fault you have to relocate HIVE-"

"That's debatable-"

"Don't even think about going there." Diabolus warned, foreseeing where such a line of argument was going to end up. "All you have to do is play nicely for an hour or two whilst you ask for his advice-which Number One himself has demanded you do, I might add-and then you can skip off back to your temporary training facility and busy yourself with the demons you seem to keep mistaking for school children."

At that point a waitress appeared with a trolley covered with food, forestalling any retort from Max. "Your food, sirs," she said. "Roast Goose, Pheonix Talons, Egg-plant with minced pork-"

Nathaniel was smirking slightly and Max's jaw was growing tighter as the large selection of dishes was produced. Nathaniel had to have been aware , having raised him, that Max intensely disliked meat of most kind- if it wasn't a fish, or sea-food of some description, he wouldn't eat it. Telling Nathaniel he could go ahead and order without them there was looking to be like a massive mistake. If Nathaniel was going to deliberately- " and Szechuan Shrimp." The waitress finished, placing the dish in front of Diabolus. It looked and smelt delicious, and he knew from the calm, but pointed look Max was throwing him that if he touched it he would be going down as the first Supervillain in history to be murdered over something so simple as his choice of cuisine. "Can I get you anything to drink?" The waitress asked.

"Just water for me, please." Nathaniel said. "Diabolus, Max-"

"Water please." Diabolus said.

"A Snow Beer, if you don't mind." Max said.

"Of course. Do unto others."

"Do unto others." Nathaniel smiled, and Diabolus grinned. He loved the fact GLOVE maintained restraints purely so its members could discuss their business without needing to worry about being over-heard, it made such a nice change from bribing managers to keep other customers well away from one's table. He wordlessly handed the shrimps over to Max, who exchanged them for Sweet and Sour Pork.

"You're still particular about your meals then," Nathaniel commented. "I had wondered if Theodore had managed to train you out of it. He promised me he'd try."

"Nathaniel-" Diabolus warned.

"He tried." Max ignored Darkdoom's attempt to break the conversation off. "He found his departmental budget greatly reduced and his access to the kitchens revoked. For the record, eel and chicken taste nothing like each other. And I would appreciate it if you didn't talk about me to my staff as if I were a troublesome seven year old."

Fantastic. Diabolus thought. Seven and a half minutes down, One hour, Fifty six and a half left to go.