Double Date Disaster!

Disclaimer: "Pan-o Am-o?"

Chapter 8: More Randomness!

Malibu Base

"Italy! I can't believe it! Freakin' Italy!" The young Mexican sonic generator known as Rictor grumbled as he threw the Sports page of the paper across the room. He and a couple other members of the West Coast Misfit team were all lounging about in the rec room watching TV.

"Hey man! I was going to ask you for that!" Terrell Mason, the African-American speedster/aerokinetic codenamed Velocity, snapped. "I wanted to see how the Lakers were doing!"

"I personally don't see what the big deal is with that World Cup garbage." John Proudstar, the powerhouse Apache mutant codenamed Thunderbird, grumbled as he looked up from his portable video game.

"What?" Rictor's jaw dropped. "You don't see the big deal? It's only one of the biggest sporting events in the world, man!"

"…So?" John shrugged. "It's soccer. You kick a ball. How is that exciting?"

"You Americans never really embraced soccer." Rictor remembered. "That's sad. It's fun. It's popular in every other country except the US."

"Fun?" John frowned. "How is soccer fun? You kick a ball in that game. That's all you do."

"Yeah." Terrell agreed. "I mean, in basketball, you can bounce a ball, you can throw it, you can shoot it, pass it, lots of stuff. With soccer, you just kick a ball around. It's boring."

"It's a great game for building teamwork, guys." Rictor countered. "Why do you think all these schools have soccer teams for kids?"

"I'll tell you why. Because it gives parents an excuse to get drunk, act obnoxious, and get into fights." John quipped. "It's out of desperation, really. They get so bored watching their kids kick a ball and not do anything else, they smuggle in alcohol to escape."

"Ha ha." Rictor sighed. "Football games can actually get pretty violent."

"Of course football games get violent, shortstuff!" John snorted. "They're supposed to get violent! You're running towards the goal, carrying the ball towards the endzone for the touchdown. You got lots of guys on the other team wanting to stop you any way they can. Of course you're gonna get violent."

"Uh, John…I think he meant football as in soccer, not American Football." Terrell told his Apache teammate.

"Yeah, you Americans never quite took to soccer." Rictor shook his head. "I wonder why."

"Maybe we have the attitude that if the rest of the world likes it, we don't want anything to do with it." John suggested.

"The Thunderbolt'll tell ya what it is!" Kyle Wildfire, the young Bostonian electrokinetic codenamed Thunderbolt grinned as he walked in, carrying a bowl full of popcorn. He continued talking as he took a seat. "You see, America, as you know it, started out as a bunch of colonies that answered to Great Britain. They needed money, so they started taxing us, not caring about the fact that we had no say in it. So, we rebelled, had ourselves a little revolution, and we booted the Redcoats back to England, jabroni. Ever since then, we decided, you know what?"

"What?" John snickered.

"Screw what the rest of the world thinks, jabroni!" Kyle grinned. "If the rest of the world likes it, we won't!"

"Then how come America went nuts with Mia Hamm?" Rictor crossed his arms.

"Because she ripped off her shirt, stupid." John smirked.

The Pit

"Yo, you got a five?" A jive-accented voice inquired.

"Go fish, you mother-!" BLAM!

"Man, the Death Wish guy had issues." Lance Alvers, the long brown-haired geokinetic codenamed Avalanche frowned, shaking his head.

"You're telling me." Pietro Maximoff, the silver-haired speedster codenamed Quicksilver, nodded in agreement, taking some popcorn out of a bowl he ahd and shoveling it in his mouth. A few members of the original Misfit team were lounging around, watching a movie. It was one of the Death Wish films, but they weren't sure which one. They were all alike.

"Sheesh, what'd he do to get shot there?" Lila Cheney, the black-haired interstellar teleporter codenamed Starway, winced at the screen.

"Maybe he didn't give him the right card." Fred Dukes, the huge blond mutant codenamed Blob, suggested. The other three looked at him. "What?"

"Meh, the way this one's written, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the reason." Pietro sighed.

"Let me have some popcorn, Pietro." Lila held out her hand.

"This is my popcorn!" Pietro held the bowl away.

"Oh for the love of God, Pietro!" Fred groaned.

"There's enough for all us!" Lance snapped. "Okay, not enough if we count Fred."

"Hey!"

"This is good popcorn! You guys will eat it all!" Pietro whined.

"Dang it, Pietro! You're so bipolar!" Lila groaned.

"Yeah!" Lance agreed. "Last week, you kept whining about your weight, even though your metabolism prevents you from gaining any!"

"I was sick in the head!" The speedster whined.

"That excuse only works for Pyro, you nitwit!" Lila grunted. "And he ain't here!"

"Where is Pyro, anyway?" Lance blinked.

"I dunno." Lila shrugged. "He said something about a convention."

"Did anybody go with him?" Fred inquired. "You know Pyro isn't supposed to be by himself for extended periods of time. Otherwise, you know…"

"Yeah, last time, he started mumbling about pink bunnies and metalhead pigeons." Lance pinched the bridge.

"If he's by himself, who knows what will happen!" Lila realized.

"We gotta find him before he wrecks something!" Fred gulped.

"Somebody watch the TV and see if any disasters are happening!" Lance ordered.

London, England

"Just our luck that we'd have to watch more people getting arrested." Ali sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"At least it wasn't us, yo." Todd shrugged.

"Yeah, that's true." Longshot agreed. Todd's cell phone rang, causing the four to stop near an electronics store with a couple TVs on the window display. The frog-like mutant looked at his black-haired girlfriend.

"Al, did you check in?"

"Of course." Althea nodded. Todd shrugged and picked up his phone.

"N'yello?"

"Hey Todd." Lance greeted on the other end.

"Hey, Lance!" Todd grinned. "What's up, buddy?"

"Nothing much." Lance wondered. "You guys seen Pyro anywhere?"

"Lance, we're in England, yo. Why would he be here?"

"What's going on?" Althea whispered.

"The guys are looking for Pyro." Todd whispered back.

"Pyro's missing?" Althea blinked. Longshot and Ali looked at each other as Todd continued talking.

"Do you have any idea where he went?" Todd blinked. "Maybe he went out and gathered up shiny things again."

"Probably." Lance sighed. "Last time he did that, we found a whole lot of hubcaps, tin foil, and swords in his room. Or maybe he went out collecting pants again."

"Uh, Toddles…" Althea pointed at the TV. Todd looked at the TV.

"Oh, no…" Ali groaned. The TV was showing the news.

"And in Hoboken, New Jersey, the National Mime Convention is under siege from what appears to be a living inferno." The newscaster informed.

"I think we found him." Todd groaned into the phone.

"Thanks, Pyro." Longshot sighed.

Well, well, well! Looks like our heroes have yet another problem! What insanity will happen next? Why's Pyro attacking the mimes? Are our heroes willing to go to New Jersey! Find out in the next chapter! Suggestions needed badly!