Chapter Eight:

Rictus' Arrival In Vegas

The transport vehicle made its way through the air heading from the remote area of Eve's Twat heading toward the opulent sites of the continent of New Argo. Rictus sat down watching the water beneath him and the crashing waves. It seemed almost a small comfort for his tortured inner soul.

He looked in the cabin of the shuttle at the countless guards with him and he gazed upon Shithead sitting on the other side of the shuttle. By the looks of his cohort, he was listless, maybe even nervous. Rictus had to be reminded that he had never left the confines of Eve's Twat before so Rictus felt to give a small commentary of the situation both he and Shithead found themselves as he spoke allowed throughout the cabin, "Las Vegas…the seat of power of the Impergium throughout New Krypton as well as the continent of New Argo proper. What can be said about Vegas, you ask? Well…Vegas is still an amazing city surrounded by inhospitable desert terrain. But the city itself is much the same as it was in the 21st century. The city is still a spectacle to behold. The bright lights of the old casinos are still there, but in actuality it is much more beautiful than it ever was in the 21st Century. There is a fine balance of New Kryptonian decadence as well as traditional Kryptonian architecture. The Brainchild has made sure this city is still a tourist attraction, a place where the wealthy and powerful can still go and relax and live like kings. And in turn, they give him loyalty and obedience to his regime. And it's a definite that 'King' Brainiac keeps his subjects happy. Unlike us in the Twat of course…" Rictus stopped as he gazed closely at Shithead who was more attentive normally to realize that he was fast asleep with his eyes wide open.

As the shuttle made its way across the ocean and passing over the continent of Atlantis and finally crossing the shores of New Argo. About one hour later, Rictus could see in the distance Las Vegas. Like the pharaohs and emperors of antiquity, the Brainchild's seat of power is the epitome of opulence. As a result, the Brainchild took the old Caesar's Palace hotel and casino and made it the site of the Summit.

At this point the guests as well as the Magistrates of the Impergium have not yet begun to arrive, except for Rictus. Mr. Rictus and his entourage wanted to make sure to get there 24 hours ahead of the scheduled time. Unbeknownst to the forces of the Impergium, this is pretty close to the time that The Blackbirds arrived in Las Vegas as well.

The shuttle sees the helipad of the Palace and begins to make landing preparation on the helipad roof of Caesars Palace. The landing is rather smooth as Rictus notices Shithead finally waking up.

Instead of making Shithead look bad for sleeping, Rictus just looks at him, "Believe it or not the media source here in New Argo is worse than almost over all the rest of New Krypton; reminds me of the paparazzi and reporters that plague the celebrities of the old world."

Shithead responded sarcastically as Rictus had levied the same tone, "Wow, really?"

"Yes…and since the incident with Adam Gibson they want no part of me after how I shut that situation down for them. Even Grandmaster Tolliver thought that my methods were unsatisfactory before he came back here. Even so, the thought of these parasitic 'people' drooling over me and my associates as well as the other magistrates just…makes me ill. I wish to deal with those cretins the least amount of time as possible."

"So why am I now hearing about this? You seemed fine at the execution..." Shithead asked.

Rictus started to snap at Shithead, "I don't have the healthiest of relationships with the folks at BCCNN, or Brainchild Cable News Network. So unless it is imperatively important, they rarely come to Eve's Twat. Also it's because of them that I want to avoid an already uncomfortable situation in regards to the godforsaken Prophecy of Retribution he keeps hearing about...and I think that the best thing for everyone is to just skip the 'walk-in gala'."

Two rifled guards exit the craft, followed by the large walking talking pile of excrement that was Shithead, another two rifle carrying guards, and then finally Mr. Rictus. As soon as Rictus lands he is met by a guardian contingent of Impergium raiders led by Grandmaster Tolliver who by the look on his face didn't wish to be there. As soon as Rictus' feet hit the rooftop floor, a hologram of The Brainchild appears.

"My lord, I was going to check in first with the front desk then let you know I was here." Rictus explained as its appearance took him slightly by surprise.

"I have known you were here since you entered New Argo airspace, Rictus." Brainchild responded in a cold calculating manner.

"Of course you have. Well, since you're here…"

Taking what Rictus said literally, the Brainchild responded back as cold as his programming, "I am not actually here, Rictus. This is merely a holographic representation of my physical person."

Rictus thinks to himself, "This guy has no sense of humor or sense of slang lingo…even after 400 years." Then he began to speak once more after the pause, "Right…I just figured I'd get here earlier than the rest of the peons, the herd and the other magistrates…avoid all the spectacle and hoopla you're so fond of."

"That observation is incorrect Mr. Rictus. I have no particular fondness of the media, but I do know that information and appearance are important measures of control. I control humanity on a global scale and use the BCCNN as a tertiary tool for that outlet. Seeing as how BCCNN doesn't wish to speak to you at the moment, this serves actually to benefit your privacy."

Rictus began walking toward the doors, being followed by the hologram as well as his entourage and Brainchild's raiders, "Thanks for clearing that up, sire. I get all that. You know I just don't particularly like my picture being taken. So as long as if it's ok with you I am just going to hang back and let the others walk down the 'red carpet'."

"What is the purpose of the mentioning of the red carpet? Is it an analogy of some sort?"

Rictus acts confused, "You don't watch the old tapes of the old ages? Famous folk like actors, dignitaries, ambassadors and the like used to walk down a roll of red carpet when entering a special ceremony or particular event. It always thought it symbolizes status or something."

The Brainchild paused and after about 15 seconds finally responded, "Yes. I think you have a great idea, Rictus. I like the idea of red carpet. I will see to it. As for your entrance to the festivities you do not have to attend the red carpet part, just the Summit proper. We will speak again after the others arrive."

The hologram disappears as he walks toward the large elevator accompanied by four of his troops. Tolliver lets the party pass as he finally wanted to address Rictus, "That scene in Eve's Twat was something I would like to avoid in the future in regards to our further interaction."

Rictus nodded his head and taunted slightly, "What? Your reputation tarnished because of my glorious Blood Eagle?"

Tolliver looked into Rictus' eyes as if trying to gauge his boiling point.

Rictus continued seriously however, "its ok, Tolliver. I want the same thing. Now get to the fucking point as to why you are here?"

Tolliver bowed his head slightly disturbed, "His Eminence the Brainchild wishes me to take you and your people to their quarters.

Shithead cracks a smile, "The Brainchild's finest executioner being reduced to a...butler? HAHA!"

Tolliver walked in front of the party and activated the elevator, "I have been instructed to give you as much attention as you require."

Rictus breathes a sigh of relief and walks into the elevator with his party and looks at his troops then back towards the Grandmaster, "Nope...You four... take our things and go with Tolliver to get us checked in put our things in those rooms. I have been confined to that shuttle long enough and I wish to do something. Shithead… you and I are going to take a walk around this glorious seat of Vegas." He then looked at Tolliver in a condescending fashion, "I get the feeling that after tomorrow we won't have the privilege or time to 'take in the sights'. Am I right, Grandmaster?"

Rictus' four men followed Tolliver much to his dismay into Caesar's Palace concierge to get the rooms ready as Rictus and Shithead walk out of the hotel's main doors, much to Tolliver's chagrin. The Vegas Strip looked almost like it was when Rictus visited back in the 20th Century. Down the Strip, Rictus looked at Shithead and if it wasn't so alien to him, he saw Rictus grin. "Shithead, there is a certain buzz…a vibe of anticipation in the air. That feeling people have when they know something big is coming, like on Super Bowl Sunday."

"What's a Super Bowl? Is that something you eat a ton of corn flakes or oatmeal in?"

Rictus rolled his eyes and then continued, "Nevermind…In this case all the world leaders are flying here…HERE…into Las Vegas for the great Impergium Summit. It has been many, many years since we have all been in the same place at the same time."

"Yeah…"

"Aside from Rasputin I haven't seen most of these people in decades or centuries...some of which I didn't care to and would wish to wait another century to see."

As Shithead and Rictus walk down the street the citizens immediately are aware of their membership in the Impergium and give them the proper distance and respect. Most bowed or curtsied in response to their approach. Rictus grinned as thoughts flooded his amazing mind. These people are considered the 'wealthy elite' of New Argo. It is a stark contrast to the downtrodden citizens down under in Eve's Twat. Or even compared to the people who live on the outskirts of the continent weren't as decadent. It has nothing to do with Rictus being the sick twisted fuck that he is, as it has everything to do with the fact that Eve's Twat is essentially on its own. The country's economy is broken if there ever was one, and perhaps the Brainchild wants it that way. New Kandor may have been the prison continent, bit Eve's Twat was New Krypton's Hell. And he was its Satan.

Shithead squints and looks around, then back to Rictus, "Look at this shit! The people here don't even seem to be phased by us being here."

Rictus laughs, "They're not. You do realize that there are all types of super powered villains and Impergium bad asses that pass through here on a regular basis? These soft piles of goo are the Brainchild's good little worker bees, and they are rewarded as such. They don't question, they don't complain…they just go about their lives and because of generations knowing what side their bread is buttered on, this place has developed into a tourist attraction much like it was hundreds of years ago."

"What the fuck, boss? We ain't got shit back home, my family used to be one of the poorest in the entire Twat before my….my…you know...transformation. These folks walk around like they haven't a care in the world."

"Shithead, my boy…that's the whole point of this little experiment, I think. The Brainchild tried for hundreds of years to stomp out insurrection with all manner of violence and oppression and for a while it worked. I used to like his methods and would be right next to him in any endeavor of his. But then, out of the blue, he decided on a taking a kinder gentler approach here in New Argo. A reward or incentive program that he believes is working. Maybe it is over here. I like the other way better and that's why I am down under."

"Fuck these people, fuck this place." Shithead replied.

"You're a piece of shit after my own heart Shithead, that's why I tolerate you." Rictus said as he raises his arm thinking about touching Shithead on his shoulder and then has second thoughts.

Rictus and Shithead walk further down the street and came upon a large building to the right. Originally it might have been a police station or a government building but now it served a different purpose.

"Shithead…this is what is called this day and age as an 'Augmented Bordello.' These whores are exclusively for enhanced clientele."

"What's 'enhanced clientele'?"

"It means that super powered individuals can fuck these select whores without having to worry about killing them from the sheer action of just fucking. Some are genetically engineered to do this…others are enhanced by…other…methods."

Shithead laughs, "Maybe we will come back here later…"

Rictus shakes his head, "You can if you wish...I'm sorry…I like my whores entirely human. Can't get off on a woman or man who actually LIKES what I do with them…" Looking at some of the specimens both male and female in the windows he interjects, "however for this trip I might have to make an exception."

They walk further down the Strip as Shithead keeps taking in the entire ambience. He then looks back toward Rictus, "The other magistrates and seconds…do you get along with the others?"

Rictus stops and looks down at the cement walk, "You know me…I have never played well with others so to speak. As you know, I am though quite fond of the Russian Rasputin though. He reminds me as just a more passionate version of myself."

"Yeah…some of the guys talk about him…Rasputin, you know."

Rictus begins to start walking again as he smoothes out his robes, "The 'girls' love to gossip."

"Yeah they do…but they say some interesting stuff. They say he used to be a hero."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah, sir…is it true?"

Rictus doesn't hold back, "Yeah…it was. Now…now he is like a lion that plays with his food. He knows his food can't do anything to him, so he bides his time savoring every change and morsel of his prey."

"They say he's even more twisted than…" Shithead stops himself out of misplaced fear or respect for his magistrate, either which he had no idea.

"Twisted than whom…me?" Rictus said pointing at himself.

Shithead remains silent.

Rictus bursts out in uncontrollable laughter as the citizens stay fairly clear of them at this point. "Not on his best day…or my worst. Then again, the way he uses the cold is pretty impressive. Borderline genius, if you ask me…and I have studied torture and death for centuries."

Shithead looked confused as he avoided walking on top of a sewer grate that was loose, "What do you mean?"

Rictus looks into Shithead's eyes, "Hope you never find out. But back to him being a hero…He was one of a group of heroes in the 20th Century calling themselves the X-Men."

Shithead tried to think deep in his brain about who they were, and then drew a blank, "Never heard of them."

"You wouldn't…I actually would have been surprised if you did." Rictus said as they walked into a fancy gourmet restaurant. The waiter, who looked like he had been studying at the Cordon Bleu for most of his life, sat them at a fancy table away from the crowd of people sort of gawking at them. He then offered them two menus and placed out their silverware.

"Monsieur Rictus…what would you and your comrade like to drink this evening?" The waiter asked.

Rictus looked at Shithead and then back at the waiter ignoring his shitty old French accent, "Your finest wine, not the property of Lord Brainchild."

He nodded and walked away.

"Never had wine before…always slogging back some beer back in the Twat…"

"Tonight is a night of new experiences; Shithead…thought that you could join me as such. Anyway…where was I?"

Shithead pulls out a napkin and unfolds it…sending light shit stains on the pure white cloth. Even in his much solid form, Shithead still had some residue of what and who he was that was left behind. He remembered, "Oh…who were the X-Men?"

The waiter came back with two glasses and a weird look on his face as he sort of glanced at Shithead and the now ruined cloth napkin. He put two glasses down on the table and uncorked the cold bottle of wine. He then began to pour as Rictus continued, "They were an international team of mutants created by a crippled man named Charles Xavier. Anywhere on the planet where there was a problem with mutants; whether it was civil rights, violence, you name it …they were there."

The waiter butt in politely, "Do you know what you wish to have for dinner?"

Slightly annoyed Rictus replied, "Two porterhouse steaks…medium well…all the trimmings that come with it…and if you interrupt me again I will rip out your tongue from your gullet and shove it clear up your rectum...is that understood? If I NEED you I will CALL for you. And please stop talking in that fake accent; you may think you add ambiance to this place but you only make yourself look like a fool who knows better." Rictus said as he handed back the menus and looked at the waiter with a sadistic smile draped on his face.

The waiter swallowed his spit loudly and took the menus and ended his charade, "As you wish, sir…" He said as he ran back towards the kitchen. Shithead chuckled as he watched the waiter flee in fear.

Shithead grinned at his boss, "How did you know his accent was fake?"

Rictus took a sip of his wine, "I lived in the country of France for fifty years before the fall of the Old World. I know bullshit when I hear it."

Shithead changed the subject, "So…what happened to him?"

"You mean Rasputin and the X-Men?" Rictus said as he turned his attention back towards Shithead.

"Yeah…what happened?"

Rictus took another sip of his wine, "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't know what pushed him to turn his back on his friends and allies, but whatever it was it must have been special. Some offer that the Brainchild gave him that he couldn't refuse. The one big thing I wanna stress is that all the magistrates, except myself of course, needed convincing to join the cause…something happened to him that made him want to kill all his friends or turn them to the Impergium willingly…He's really the only one I like. Enough of talks though, let's drink this impeccable wine."

Shithead felt uncomfortable...not with the place, but with the situation itself. Rictus was never this nice to him and it worried him. He decided to address the proverbial pink elephant in the room, "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? Usually you treat me like the fucking plague. Now I am your best friend?"

"I told you I want you close. Don't get me wrong...you are not my best friend...but...We may have to leave here fast if this all goes south."

"What do you mean? Aside from the shitty people, things look good here."

Rictus leans forward and folds his hands, "Shithead, I haven't lived this long by trusting everyone. I sure as shit don't trust a machine whose intentions are purely analytical and cold, who from which as of late is actually starting to show some destructive emotion, as well as the unsophisticated ilk who decided long ago to lick his proverbial asshole with great relish. There is a difference between trusting with an alive being who can think for themselves…and someone who never was truly alive...mentally or physically."

"So…you trust me?"

"You have done nothing to warrant otherwise. Now…let's have a good night here and then maybe we make some arrangements for later on tonight with some...merriment."

Mr. Rictus and Shithead get their dinner and make a night of it. Shooting the shit about some of the people they saw and making fun of the wait staff. Rictus started to wince slightly from hearing the music playing in the background.

"What's that for?" Shithead asked curiously.

Rictus wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, "You know about Kryptonian music?"

Shithead nodded, he had been raised on mostly Kryptonian brands of music, but was curious to see what this was all about, "What of it?"

"You notice that it's almost analytical…devoid of true emotion or attachment…almost like its sonic mathematics. Synthesized…sterile…alien…Now, you are more used to what I like to listen to…especially when I am torturing and killing people is some good old fashioned world music from a bygone era in the world before the Impergium…it's called Rock and Roll or the incarnation I favor the most 'Motown.'"

Shithead scratches his head and smiles, "So that's what it's called. I have to tell you that it's pretty peppy. I kind of like it."

"Do you know why?" Rictus asked curiously.

Shithead shoved another piece of steak in his mouth, "Nope."

Rictus continued, "Because…it relies on emotion to live…to breathe and in turn breathe life and opportunity in everything you would want to do. I can't listen to Ush-Arel's 7th Quadratic Symphony without gagging, but put on some James Brown or Martha Reeves and the Vandellas…and I want to carve all the Jews in Eve's Twat into fucking steaks…you see? Pep in your step will bring things to life…even death," Rictus laughed loudly at the last as a joke. Shithead laughed as well, but was reluctant to get why.

They finished the wine bottle off and returned to Caesar's Palace to relax and await their associates who would all be arriving before they knew it. Tolliver left the room information with the concierge and both Rictus and Shithead made their way to their rooms. After more drinks in Rictus' room they finally called it a night Shithead returned to his room, which was interconnecting.

Rictus, left to his own devices, calls downstairs to the concierge for the number to the Augmented Bordello they passed on the strip to send up for him a younger girl and man to be brought to his room. He never specified his needs for them and didn't need to go into detail about what he wanted to use them for. Rest assured the young man and woman who will come will bear the scars of this night for the rest of their lives. But for the woman it will be much more.


12 hours earlier…

Colonel Carlos Ramirez and Lieutenant Colonel Daytona, the commander of the Blackbirds begin their trek through the remnants of St Croix and into Vegas proper. It's a quick time march through the remains of what used to be a beautiful neighborhood in a desolate Nevada desert. Shortly after leaving the remains they begin to see the lights of the strip that looks eerily familiar to the 21st Century Las Vegas strip. They turned on their cloaking suits making them invisible to the crowds walking around. Once they enter the city they hunker down behind a couple of large dumpsters nearby and begin to work out their plan.

Daytona turned off his suits circuits and began talking, "Alright the easiest way we can get access to Caesar's Palace is through the kitchen staff like we already agreed. With the sheer volume of people in there our suits will be of no use as there is the chance we can be bumped into and our cover will be blown. But as kitchen staff it will be expected. They have people working around the clock preparing everything for this goddamn summit. Don't forget they have to cater to everyone not just the VIP's but the media parasites as well, and any other important dignitaries that may show up to this thing."

Carlos turned off his suit as well, "So there will be folks running in and out of the kitchen the rest of the night and day. This is perfect…That's definitely our easiest access point. I guess the only thing left to decide is …who goes and who stays?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who goes to get our kitchen uniforms?"

"I figured I'd go since this was my plan and you'd stay." Daytona responds defensively.

"I figured I'd go and you'd stay. You have the comlink up and running in the rear, and I've actually been waiting for an opportunity to show you what I can do. So why don't you stay here and be my eyes and let me do my thing and retrieve our kitchen uniforms?"

Daytona pauses for a moment and looks up at the Vegas lights, "Alright, then. Go for it. But let me make this clear, if you fuck up your ass is grass…understood?"

Carlos just grins.

"Ok. Hustle it soldier, make me fucking proud," Daytona said as he found himself chuckling.

Carlos begins to move closer to Caesar's Palace it is not daylight yet so he can still move in the cover of night before his actually enters the vicinity of Caesars… then all bets were off. He realizes that this could be his only shot at this particular plan, in a few hours there will be too many people in this area so he stops to activate this amazing shadow suited stealth uniform given to him by Bridget. With a sigh of relief, stealth mode came on once more as he feels a little bit better about crossing a street and covering open territory. Silently and as stealthy as possible he approaches the rear loading dock of Caesar's Palace.

Ramirez, always aware of his surroundings, notices the door to the kitchen where the regime received deliveries and waits for a lone member of the kitchen staff to come out.

Unfortunately this seems to take a bit longer than he anticipated as the sun starts to poke its face out of the horizon. He begins looking around for anything to make a bit of a noise when at the nick of time a lone member of the kitchen staff ducks out of work for a smoke break.

"Thank God for nicotine…" Carlos thinks to himself, as he waits a few more seconds to makes sure no one else is coming out. He then pulls out of his holster a small unusual type of dart gun. In its chamber is a dart that has a fast acting extremely lethal sleep projectile which can fire at semi-automatic speed.

He aims carefully and with one well placed dart to the neck the kitchen help falls silently unconscious, as Carlos quickly catches him and hoists him up in the fireman's carriage position and moves him behind the dumpsters. Daytona gives him thumbs up as he quickly turns off the suit and changes clothes and takes the identity badge of the poor man. Without the badge this endeavor would have been all for naught. Carlos finishing up gets up and walks away from the dumpsters and up to the kitchen entrance.

Noticing no one else in the area Carlos awkwardly disguises his voice, "Hey? Can one of you help me out here?"

He hears footsteps approaching the door and he takes position on the door's blind side, he makes sure that only one person is coming through the door and he puts a dart in this man's neck as well. He waves for Daytona to come in as he drags the new body behind the large truck nearby.

"Hey double time it, Peaches. The sun is almost up and this took a bit longer than I thought." Carlos said as he threw the other body in the back of the truck. The comlink goes off in his ear.

No shit, Sherlock. The sun is almost up, I'm moving to your position… I hope you got me a XL.

Carlos winced, "Sorry, I didn't have time to check the label, but this guy was heavier than the last one…"

Daytona followed in the same fashion as Carlos arrives at the loading dock behind the truck.

Carlos stripped off the other workers suit as Daytona turned off his stealth mode.

"Here, it's an XL."

Daytona nods and helps Carlos, "Well at least it'll fit. So …how long we gonna stay hunkered down behind this truck? This area smells like bad food, bad gas and bad intentions."

"We're going to wait until there is a little more activity then we are going to grab some of this product and make our way in. We will need to leave our heavier weapons behind the dumpsters though so we will head back there first. We'll keep our sidearms on us, but pray to God they don't have metal detectors in here…"

Daytona shakes his head, "Too risky. How about we do it this way?" Daytona turns on his comlink, "Condor, can you see us at the moment?"

Roger.

"What is the best way in from your vantage point?"

Condor, back at the schoolhouse, uses his optical enhancements almost like the zoom of a camera as he zooms in on Caesar's Palace area. He blinks twice in rapid succession and his enhancements switch over to x-ray vision.

Sir, the kitchen staff is moving fairly quickly they have close to two dozen people running around the kitchen area and the dining area. This may be as good a time as any. But I wouldn't go with any firearms…

"Why?" Carlos asked Condor.

Kitchen help doesn't have access codes authorized for carrying firearms. And they have checking stations with metal detectors before people make their way into the main part of the Palace.

"Ok, then we are going to have to do this the hard way. Will they detect the surveillance equipment?" Daytona asked Condor.

Sir, you better ask Colonel Ramirez about that.

"The bugs look like small grains of rice. No way will they detect it, since it's not made of any metal. When surrounding an area, it will transmit a three dimensional hologram back to New Argo base as well as to the schoolhouse. The larger the room, the more you would need in an even radius. The main area where this thing is taking place should need only about 7, but I brought 21 just in case."

Daytona smiles unconvinced, "How is that possible? Where did we come up with that technology?"

"Where else? China…My good friend Sam Chen has been giving us little miracles like this every day…right under the Mandarin's nose." Carlos laughed as he stood up to walk toward the loading bay doors.

Both soldiers make their way back to the dumpsters and drop off their weapons next to the corpse stashed there. Carlos spoke up, "Wait…You hold the equipment."

"Why?"

"Come on man, really? I carried it over here since St. Croix. So you can at least carry it for awhile."

"I don't know how to work it." Daytona asked

"I can teach you…and besides I outrank you."

"You're a dick…" Daytona muttered under his breath shaking his head.

Carlos had read up on Daytona's dossier previously to find out that both he and this other decorated man have been in the military for most of their lives yet neither of them has ever truly gone undercover before so the nervousness was refreshing. However refreshing for the both of them it was, of course they would never speak of it. Carlos then handed Daytona a small pouch that looked like a tobacco one, but instead had the surveillance equipment inside. Daytona peered inside once more in amazement, "It DOES look like fucking rice…" He then put it in the pocket closest to the waistband of his underwear away from prying eyes.

After disposing of their weapons behind the dumpster and grabbing the food stuffs in the back of the truck to fit in, they made their way to the doors.

Carlos entered through quickly like he belongs there and Daytona of course follows suit behind him as he looked around.

The kitchen is just bustling with activity, there is a radio playing some strange techno song, that from the look on Daytona's face was something he didn't like, in the background the noise and smells are a tad disorienting and the two trained soldiers almost stop moving and just stand there. Luckily, a thin woman wearing the same style of uniform carrying a tray of eggs bumps into Daytona knocking him and Carlos out of their fugues.

"Make a hole!" The woman raises her voice as she passes.

Carlos and Daytona look almost confused as they separate and look at one another. Another woman walks in between them carrying a large tray of uncooked food and looks at the two.

"You two look confused? No one tell you where you were working yet? For Brainchild's sake, drop the boxes of calamari by the freezer, wash your hands then come right back here, I've got some new jobs for you two fellas."

The Brainchild's sake? This aberration was no god. The mere thought sickened Daytona and Carlos look at each other and they both shrug their shoulders and go to the sink to wash their hands. The two battle hardened soldiers finish cleaning their hands and return to their new 'boss'.

She looks up at them and nods in an affirming way. She hands Daytona and Carlos a hair net, noticing the longer hair on Daytona's head, "Alright, you with the ginger hair, what's your name?"

Daytona looked down at his nametag trying to act like he belonged there, but finding it real hard to do so. He didn't think his eyes were going bad but he couldn't read the smaller nametag and squinted, "Um…my name is…Umberto…but my friends call me Brad."

The woman looks confusingly at Daytona, who from the look on her face definitely wasn't in the mood for anything to disrupt her from her task, "Ok…Brad, I need you to go into the walk-in fridge and clean up a tray of broken eggs that are all over the floor. You! What is your name?" She asked as she pointed at Carlos.

"My name is Carlos." He said with a matter of fact tone as Daytona looks at him confusingly.

The woman pointed toward a bunch of other men and women dressed as he was, "You have a line cook insignia on your uniform so I want you over on hors d'oeuvres prep and bring that salmon/cream cheese mixture with you when they are finished to the main line cooks."

Daytona still not getting the remedial labor of it all, responded back to her orders as if they were a joke, "So…You want me to go clean up a bunch of broken eggs?"

She tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow which reminded Daytona of his basset hound puppy when he was little. It made him want to laugh but he knew he couldn't as she spoke, "Yes. Are you slow or something?"

Carlos sensing that any new problem could jeopardize their mission intervenes, "He's new ma'am. This is his first day working in the kitchen, so …you know."

She seemed understand as she gets back on her task, "You can call me Lyla. I am the kitchen manager for this event…and no… I don't know. Line cook, I am too busy to watch over this guy so he's going to be your responsibility. You make sure he gets those eggs cleaned up, and when that's done you come back to see me. I'll make sure you both stay busy, these dignitaries have deep appetites."

Carlos waved with a smile as she looked as though she was going to walk away, "Thanks ma'am. I'll look after him."

Sure enough the woman turns her attention to the bakery section after one of her employees yells out, "Oh shit!" followed by a crashing sound. She leaves the two undercover soldiers and approaches the bakery in a tizzy.

Daytona punches Carlos in the arm, "Is he slow? Are you fucking serious? You love this shit, aren't you?"

Carlos sensing Daytona's sarcasm grins widely, "What? She seemed pretty spot on having just met you and all." He then got real serious, "I know that this might be hard for your brain to fathom, but you need to rein in that rebellious nature for a bit. If you do anything to fuck up this mission, our geese are cooked. We won't have this chance again."

"Hardey, fucking, har. I got it... Go get your fish cheese or something, asshole." Daytona as he goes toward the walk-in fridge.

"You know if you leave those eggs too long in the walk in they will be next to impossible to get up off the floor." Carlos smiles in the most annoying grin.

Daytona flips him the bird as he avoids walking into another attendant, "How about I shove one of those eggs up your fucking ass?"

"Chop, chop janitor boy."

Daytona visibly annoyed then grabs a mop and bucket and moves towards the walk-in to clean up the dropped eggs, muttering nonsense under his breath. Both are however waiting for the proper time to start doing something much more important.

Carlos on the other hand grabs the salmon /cream cheese mixture and heads on over to the prep table. He sees a larger black man making something on a giant griddle.

Carlos lifts the mixture and puts it on the prep table, "Ok here we go, Uhmm….what are we doing with this, man?"

The cook looks at him and shakes his head, "I haven't seen you before? You new or something?"

"Yeah, man. I'm on loan from another restaurant helping out with the big day."

The cook looks him up and down and just shakes it off, "It figures they would do this...Ok, we need you to take the stems off of those mushrooms over there and stuff the salmon mix into the mushroom caps, and place them over on that platter. You cool with that?"

Carlos nodded, "Yeah, I got it."

For most of the day, it looked like Colonel Ramirez seemed to be enjoying himself immensely whereas LTC Daytona on the other hand doesn't seem to be enjoying himself at all. In another life, Carlos would have wondered if he would have become a world famous chef or baker if he were allowed to. Thinking about all that depressed him slightly, but there was one upside to the world being shit. He had Bridget...and that made up for everything.

Daytona on the other hand was not having a good time. There were more than just eggs stuck to the floor as Daytona had to scrape it all up

"Goddamn eggs stuck to the goddamn floor. Fucking know it all bitch has me doing this stupid shit. I am a goddamn soldier picking up goddamn broken eggs…can't use a laser blaster to get this shit up...maybe a grenade." Daytona muttered to himself in a quiet rage.

Just as Daytona finishes cleaning up the walk-in, another kitchen worker comes into the walk-in looking for him as he shuts up.

"Are you Brad?" He asked.

Daytona takes a deep breath and sets the mop handle against the wall and looks up at the man, "yeah?"

"Lyla asked if you could help me with something. When you get done can you give me a hand taking this case of vodka upstairs?"

Daytona grins, "Vodka? Where did you get vodka? I thought that New Argo was a dry continent."

The guy laughs, "They just can't make it here. This particular vodka goes to one of the big wigs that will be here tomorrow. This vodka was flown in special from Russia itself. So can you give me a hand with these, or do you need more answers?"

Daytona realizing that this could be the ideal time to gain access to the floors where the summit will be held or where the members of the Impergium will be meeting; if he didn't screw it up in the process. He was still mad at Carlos and Bridget for the death of his best friend Adam, but was starting to realize that maybe Carlos wasn't half bad of a guy even if sometimes he could be a dick. Sure he was a little more orthodox and orderly in his methods, but not everyone could fight and act as he and the Blackbirds normally did. He made it a point to maybe cut the Beaner some slack in the future…if he was allowed one.


Meanwhile back in Atlantis…

Thunder landed at the mouth of what looked like a cave not far from the former palace of Mordred. For some reason unknown to everyone else, the palace was built close by on the insistence of Mordred's ancestor Baron Mordo. No one knew why. Bruce Banner got off of his back and finally Doctor Fate landed. Doctor Fate walked closer to the mouth of the cave shaking her head.

"This isn't right. There are usually guards here or at least the miner's foreman...even if the miners went home," Doctor Fate says in distress.

Bruce Banner looked on the ground. Atlantis had this sort of grey slate for earth, so it was easy for him to notice that the ground was covered in puddles of blood. He bends over and touches it with his fingers and looks at Thunder, "Whatever did this, and whose blood this is, we don't have much time, Justin."

Doctor Fate then puts her hands on the helmet and closes her eyes, and then clutches the Eye of Agamotto in her hand, "I can't feel any human life signs, but I do feel something vague coming from within the cave."

Thunder walks to the mouth of the cave as his Nega Bands started to glow to illuminate the cave for him. He saw that the mines diverted from the entrance into three distinct tunnels. The grey slate rock started dissipating from the view into what looked to him like gold or at least the remnants of it.

"Fate? What do you make of this?" Thunder asked as he turned back toward her.

She walks up and looks at the golden colored rock before her, "I remember that the Brainchild only started about a hundred years ago mining these tunnels, even though he was planning it since the days of the Magistrate Baron Mordo. The cost of equipment to actually do it apparently took its toll on the workers as well as the funds of the Impergium so resources had to accrue over time. My father always told me the equipment would break down where they would have to replace drill bits."

Bruce Banner looked confused, "How is that possible with gold? I mean gold is one of the softest metals in nature. It shouldn't give someone this much trouble to mine like this…unless…"

Thunder turned toward him concerned, "Unless what, Bruce?"

Bruce knelt down and touched the ground and then began to feels his way up the wall. "Aquaman…who ruled Atlantis before the Great Purge used to mention to me something about Atlantean gold being almost indestructible and had to be mined with care and precision. Namor had great veins of Atlantean gold in his kingdom of Triton in the Pacific..."

"Indestructible?"

Bruce winced at his poorer choice of terms, "Maybe that is not the most correct of terms, but this stuff here was almost on the same plane as Kryptonian alloy. It had a lot of properties of vibranium and of adamantium, but unlike any of those just mentioned Atlantean gold was more malleable. Laser fire bounces off of it, or in its truest sense, is reflected away."

"That is great, but what would the Brainchild and the Impergium do with this much Atlantean gold, is it involved in this world's currency?" Thunder asked.

Doctor Fate shook her head, "No. Its not that valuable compared to the other rare elements."

Bruce looked up at Thunder, "When a majority of your enemies use beam weapons, both here and abroad, what do you think they are going to use this for? Thunder this is going to be used for one thing...conquest...but in what shape or form is the actual question."

Doctor Fate looked at Thunder then at Bruce, "If that's the case than it seems more imperative that we find the Green Lantern's ring and battery fast."

"Okay, here's the plan…" But before Thunder could finish his thought he began to hear a loud rumbling starting to grow from the inside of the mine.

"It's what I have been trying to track within the tunnels...The beast is coming…and it's hungry…" Doctor Fate warned.

Out of the cave came what looked to Thunder like black oily goo extend itself into a blade like shape and head toward Thunder at raging speed. Thunder greater speed than the apparition was able to easily dodge the blow as he knocked Bruce Banner to the ground, shielding him from any harm. Doctor Fate's hands began to glow as did Thunder's ready for battle.

The black goo landed onto the ground with a disgusting splooge and thud and then began to rise up and form into a figure that Thunder remembered all too well; the only difference this time was that the figure looked female. The head of the being had two big white eyes like a mask and teeth with razor sharp quality in the entirety of the mouth. The well defined muscles then began to form and settle as a giant white spider formed on the well endowed chest.

It roared at him intensely as Thunder grinned, "Venom."