CHAPTER 71: BY DEMONS BE DRIVEN, PART 2
While the city of Hillwood has been left behind to rot away, the rest of the world turns on without a thought, save for those who still care for the abandoned city and fight to bring it and its residents back home to the country. From the numerous protesters sitting outside the Capitol and White House, to all organizing and congregating online, the movement to bring back Hillwood never ceases.
One of the loudest and least expected voices in this movement comes from the man known as Vlad Masters. Once before, in another world and time, he was known as Vlad Plasmius; an infamous supervillain who built up his wealth and fame using his ghost powers for personal benefit, having no thought to the consequences which came with it.
Through nothing short of a miracle, he has found a second chance at life, and chooses not to repeat the same mistakes he once made. For reasons best known only to parties of more supernatural persuasion, the details of that second chance will stay untold for now, not that it matters.
What does matter is the current task on Vlad Master's mind; his goal of trying to see Hillwood reintegrated into the United States. Such an affair lies in the hands of elected officials to see the city return and gain the aid it needs, but, even with his own power and influence, Vlad's reach starts to show its limits.
His conversation with a senator halfway across the country is the best example of that, as well as the most present one.
"You were one of the few votes 'no' on the original bill to disown the city of Hillwood. For someone so against the act in the first place, I fail to see how you won't stand for reversing the decision and doing the right thing." Vlad said.
"Listen, Vlad. You've been a real good supporter of me and my campaign these last few elections. I wouldn't be here without you. But if I even think about some shit like that, my career is done, with or without your money. I'm already getting hammered away on the nightly news for going against my party in the first place, I can't push it any further. There's nobody on my side." The senator said.
"Representative Olga Pataki is leading the caucus on Hillwood's reinstatement. You'll find an ally with her."
"What? That socialist bimbo? Since when did you start siding with the leftists? She's already taking more heat than anybody else, her ratings are probably plummeting by now."
"She came to a dead tie with Bernie Sanders during last month's polls. She's got more cred than you at this point. If anything, this is probably the one thing that's gonna give you any respectability anymore."
"Listen, Vlad, I just can't-"
"No, you listen, you little shit. I put you in that office, and I can take you back out of it. You've been more than useful for what I've wanted, and, now, here's what I want: Hillwood back in the country. Either you're gonna get it done, or I'm going to put all my paychecks towards your opponent next election, and I'll-"
Before Vlad could conclude his threat, the phone call came to a dial tone, leaving their conversation cut off.
"Hello? Hello? Damn!" Vlad cursed.
Angrily slamming the phone back on the hook, Vlad rested his face in his hands, lamenting over his new failure to save Hillwood.
"Over half of congress on call to do whatever I want, and I can't get them to do the one decent thing I've ever wanted them to do. Figures." Vlad said.
While still processing his most recent failure, Vlad's inner thoughts were interrupted by the sound of thuds and other falls of impact on the roof above him, drawing his attention to it. Remembering the noise coming from the houseguest that had been in his protection for the past month, he knew that the noise was another instance of said houseguest continuing on further attempts to let out her rage.
Having dealt with his guest's multiple instances of lashing out on his roof every night, Vlad chose not to stand by any longer, instead taking the opportunity to make her stay better and try to put her mind at ease. Standing up from his desk, he walked to the kitchen to retrieve some objects to help with that task.
Making his way to the roof with a tray of mimosas and peanut butter sandwiches, Vlad casually made his way towards his houseguest, coming to a stop in his approach as he watched her continue her activity of anger. Alone against a variety of targets set up for the purpose of her destruction, Vlad watched the deadly Rhonda Lloyd still keep up her unrelenting training.
Using her twin swords, Rhonda cut down various dummies and targets strategically placed to simulate a combat environment. Slashing away at the various targets, making sure to keep her focus revolving from target to target, she slashed down each one to pieces, leaving them as nothing more than shreds of cloth and cotton falling to the ground.
Following the end of the targets, Rhonda laid her swords down and sat, panting to catch her body back to a steady breath. Taking advantage of her brief pause, Vlad approached with his tray of treats, seating himself across from Rhonda to offer his snacks.
"Dead people don't eat." Rhonda said.
"You'd be surprised to see they do. I spent almost a week in the belly of one, but it wasn't anything I didn't deserve. Besides, you look pretty alive to me, especially with all that exercise you've been doing. You could use a bite eventually." Vlad said.
Wishing to act kindly to her host, Rhonda took one sandwich from the tray, looking at it to see what manner of sandwich it was.
"Peanut butter sandwiches? With mimosa?" Rhonda asked.
"My chef left for the day. I'm not that good a cook." Vlad said.
Shrugging off the odd choice of snack and beverage, Rhonda began eating the sandwich while sipping a mimosa, with Vlad doing the same.
"Funny. I'm not technically old enough to drink." Rhonda said.
"Well, I won't tell if you won't tell." Vlad said.
"Very funny. But what's really funny is just how much time I've lost. Dead for almost a year, all the people I knew got a year older, but I didn't. I'm not even supposed to be here. I was fine being dead, but my stupid father couldn't let bygones be bygones."
Swallowing a bite of his sandwich with mimosa, Vlad thought over Rhonda's words, contemplating a response to give.
"Perhaps you shouldn't be too hard on your father. I may not agree with his approach, but anyone would be hard-pressed to say bad things about his intentions." Vlad said.
"His 'intentions' of bringing me back led to my home city turned into a nightmare and disowned from the country. You know what they say about good intentions: It paves the road to hell." Rhonda said.
"You shouldn't blame yourself for that, either. What's happened to Hillwood had nothing to do with you."
"My body ran rampant and gave Curly the formula to give him all those powers, I didn't even stay to help fight him, and... and I did unspeakable things to Arnold. The same things that happened to me. Do I sound so innocent? Let's face it, Vlad. I was never a good person. I was the snotty little fashion girl that was just going to be a trust-fund woman-child with all the other snobs. At least my death resulted in saving someone's life and keeping two people in love together. What do I have now? I've got no purpose anymore."
"You sound a lot like my daughter."
Rhonda's moment of self-pity soon turned to a primary focus on Vlad, gaining interest in his statement.
"You have a daughter?" Rhonda asked.
To answer her question, Vlad pulled out an issue of Danny Phantom: Issue 37, 'Kindred Spirits'. On the cover was an image of Danny Phantom, the titular hero, melting into a puddle of ectoplasm, with a selection of clones in the background of the scene, the most noticeable being a feminine clone of Danny.
Turning the page to a shot of a young girl wearing a red skull cap and blue hoodie reading a comic book on a bed, Vlad presented it to Rhonda.
"Her." Vlad said.
Looking at the page of the comic book, Rhonda read it in confusion, not understanding what was being communicated to her.
"What, she was based on a real person?" Rhonda asked.
"Yes. Almost everyone in this comic is a real person. Including me. In another time." Vlad said.
"What do you mean, 'another time'?"
"It's a long story to tell, but the most notable thing to say is that Danny Phantom used to exist, but he doesn't anymore. I used to be his bad guy, if you that's what you call it. We'd have our games, our fights, what have you, but it all eventually came undone. That first time he stepped into the ghost portal never happened, and he never became that hero."
"So now you're trying to convince me that time travel's real?"
"You came back from the dead, fought against other super-powered beings, and your current housemate is a half-ghost. Does time travel really seem so far off?"
Scoffing off the question, Rhonda took another bite of her sandwich, still chuckling at the comment.
"I've made my own mistakes, too, you know. I didn't get my money being a saint. I've used my powers to commit virtually every financial crime this country has a law for. Not that that's saying much in this country, but, if I were any less shameful, I'd take some pride in it. Being able to turn invisible and walk through walls is a pretty easy way to make money, especially when you play the stock market. I practically conquered half the military-industrial complex overnight, became one of the largest defense contractors in the country. When I got my little... 'reset', I was put at a point where I'd already gotten away with a lot. Me and Danny, we both remembered our own past lives, including how we got to where we ended. Where he decided to cash in and make some money, I decided to do some better with my powers. If there's no Danny Phantom in this timeline, then I might as well try to keep the balance. I can't go back any further to change how I got my fortune or undo what I used my powers to do, but I can still do some good things with both. Danielle wanted to find some meaning to her life, and not just be a copy of someone else's life, to make something of herself. You've got your powers now, and you can have whatever purpose in life you want. You look at yourself and see a dead person, but I see a woman with a second chance and all the opportunity in the world. And I don't want that person to waste it." Vlad said.
Understanding the reasoning behind Vlad's speech, Rhonda seemed more pacified from his reassurance, beginning to smile at last. Chewing the last bite of her sandwich down, she swallowed the food, raising her glass to wash it down her throat with the mimosa.
Before doing so, however, Vlad held his glass to her, calling to propose a toast to his sentiment.
"How about a toast, then? To second chances." Vlad asked.
Continuing to smile, Rhonda tapped her glass against Vlad's, consummating the toast.
"To second chances... and rich snobs who never earned their wealth." Rhonda said.
Giving a light laugh at Rhonda's quip, Vlad took a sip of his mimosa, as Rhonda did the same.
Even with the holiday season still strong after Christmas, coming into the new year within two days, the vast majority of the people of the United States of America do not participate in any sort of festivities. Instead, they have been spending night and day still holding protests around the country, all calling for the reinstatement of Hillwood into the nation.
One of the largest in that fight is the one closest to home, and second only to the protests in D.C.: Seattle, the most populated city in Washington state. Continuing to stand out in the snow, standing outside the offices of many senators and representatives that stood in the way of the city's reinstatement and voted for its original disownment in the first place.
A pair of people that have had their fair share of Hillwood before its fall are Gerald Johanssen and Phoebe Heyerdahl, a couple that have had their exodus and engagement just hours prior to the city falling to ruin. For the moment, the two have found some temporary lay of head with the rest of the Johanssens, with Phoebe especially welcomed to their home.
Unfortunately, though all support for Phoebe is given with the utmost sincerety and priority in her state, it is not enough to satisfy what is at the forefront of her mind. Still in her focus is the fallen city of Hillwood and those still residing in it, including those she once knew as friends.
Gerald, conversely, does not care so much for the city, nor for one particular individual that he believes is the root cause of all their problems: Arnold Shortman. Still not forgiving him for his actions that led to the paralysis of his fiancee, he can find no place in his heart for protesting for the return of Hillwood.
So it is no surprise that when Phoebe, with the assistance of Timberly, proceeded to head out the door to join the protests, he does not approve.
"Uh... Pheebs, what are you doing?" Gerald asked.
"I'm going to go do what you should be doing. What we both should be doing." Phoebe said.
"Oh, you're not seriously going to join those protests, are you?"
"I am. If you're not willing to fight for our friends, then I will."
"Pheebs, don't do this to yourself, please. Haven't you already suffered enough from that place?"
"Gerald, can't you just-" Timberly began to say.
"You stay out of this, Timberly. This is something between us."
"Don't tell Timberly to shut up. She was actually willing to come and help me." Phoebe said.
"She doesn't know what it was like over there, to see the things we saw. I thought you'd know better than to talk her into this."
"I didn't. I was going to go out in the snow by myself, but your sister wouldn't let me. I didn't want to take up her whole day on my behalf, but she really does want to help me fight."
"But why are you still fighting for Hillwood when it's already gone?"
"It's not already gone. There's still a chance that it can be brought back and people saved."
"I'm not. You saw how the govenrment's reacted to the protests, they don't give a shit. What makes you think that you'll actually make a difference?"
"I don't know if I really will. But I'm willing to try and make a stand."
"You know, it's because of that city that you can't stand anymore."
Holding back her contempt for Gerald's comment in silence, Phoebe prevented herself from saying any reply to him, instead putting her hand on Timberly's arm as a signal to leave. As the young sister took Phoebe's wheelchair and began pushing her to the door, the brother instantly realized his mistake, quickly trying to make atonement for it.
"W-Wait, I didn't mean to-" Gerald tried to say.
"We'll be back later, Gerald. Hopefully you can come up with a very good apology to Phoebe for what you just said." Timberly said.
Escorting Phoebe out the door of the house, Timberly took her on the path to joining the protests, walking out in the snow and cold to continue pressuring the government and elected officials of the country to reverse their mistake. Gerald, left with his own mistake, sought to reflect and think on it.
Needing to find a friendly ear for advice, he moved into the office of the house, finding his father, Martin Johanssen, working hard on whatever manner of monetary issue clouded his mind. Keeping up a conversation on the phone with an employee regarding difficulties at his job, their conversation seemed to drag on and on with no end to the issue in sight.
"No, no, I talked to the customer. They said that they spoke to you, and that you were supposed to-" Martin began to say.
Turning to his side, he took notice of Gerald standing in the doorway, turning to walk away while seeming to have a disappointed look on his face. Recognizing that his soon required his services as a father, Martin, though usually known to be a workaholic, chose to set aside his work for family matters.
"Uh, listen, I'm going to have to give you a call back. My son needs my help. Look, I know it's important, I'll call you right back, okay? Okay, thank you. I'll be right back." Martin said.
Hanging up his phone from its Bluetooth headset, Martin put aside his focus on his work to speak to his son, making himself present to help him.
"Gerald? Something wrong, son?" Martin asked.
Realizing that his father actually took notice of him rather than his own work, Gerald looked back in surprise, not expecting to see his father take priority with him.
"Yeah. It's, uh... Listen, it's not that important, I'm sorry, you go back to your call, I'll-" Gerald began to say.
"No, no, no. I just ended the call, I'm here to speak to you." Martin said.
"Well, you looked all busy there, I didn't want to interrupt you."
"Never mind work. You and Phoebe came to me and your mother because you needed help, so I'm here to help. You're our son, and she's our future daughter-in-law."
Gaining another call on his cell phone, Martin looked to the caller to see it was the same coworker he was speaking to. Choosing not to answer the call, he not only rejected it, but went so far as to turn his phone off altogether, completely putting his work to rest for the moment, more to Gerald's surprise.
"There. See? I'm here. Let's talk." Martin said.
"Dad? You feeling okay?" Gerald asked.
"What?"
"Well, it's just... you almost never really take some time like this with me. I mean, you used to go berserk over the electric bill, but you're straight-up putting off work?"
"Is that a problem?"
"Well, no, it's just... why?"
"This whole Hillwood business made your mother and I scared straight. The whole damn city nearly sunk into the ocean, and you were there just hours before it went down, and Phoebe's lost her legs. She's a sweet girl, she doesn't deserve that. I know I was hard on you back when you were a kid, but I was trying to make you a responsible man. It's about time I start doing the same for my son."
"Well... thanks, dad. But... my whole thing is... it's about Phoebe. Like you said, she lost her legs due to Hillwood and everything that happened there. But here she is, going out and protesting to see the city brought back. Doesn't that seem crazy to you? I mean, I keep trying to reason with her that what happened to her was because of that city, but she's still going off and fighting for it."
Thinking over his son's question, Martin thought it over in his mind, looking for a way to answer to lead him down a higher moral path. Having lived through a war that had its share of protests, he did not have far to go to find a worthy analogy, using his own experiences during the Vietnam War.
"Tell me something. Do you remember Miller?" Martin asked.
"Who?" Gerald asked.
"You know, Miller. The man I rescued back in Vietnam. He thanked me for it some time ago, when we went to D.C. for Veteran's Day."
"Oh, him. Yeah, I remember now."
"I saved him because it was my duty to do so. Because if I didn't save him, no one else would. If I didn't do what I did, he wouldn't be alive now, and his children wouldn't have been born. I still talk with him a lot, we have a beer and dinner every now and then."
"But what's he got to do with this?"
"Those people are going out there to protest against Hillwood because if they don't, nobody will. They're going out there and trying to save lives because it's their duty to do so. Hillwood's full of hundreds of thousands of people. That's hundreds of thousands of Millers they're trying to save."
"Funny, last I remember, there were protesters against the Vietnam War, too. They didn't look too kindly on soldiers, nor did soldiers look good on them."
"I didn't have a problem with those protesters. Sure, they were kids that didn't know what the worst of that war was, and they went too far calling some soldiers babykillers when they wouldn't hurt a fly, but it's hard to say a lot of bad things about their intentions. We had no business in that war. I was only in that war because I didn't have a choice. Those kids didn't care; they still stood up and fought anyway. But you know something? History proved them in the right. They were right to speak up against that war and refuse to participate in it. My only regret is not standing next to them now. You could go and join, too, you know."
Gerald carefully thought over his father's support of the Hillwood movement, still skeptical on standing in solidarity with those speaking out.
"Well, yeah, but..." Gerald trailed.
"But what?" Martin asked.
"I still can't get over how Phoebe lost her legs. It was Arnold."
Not believing the information he was given, Martin looked to his son in confusion.
"What? What do you mean, it was Arnold? What would he have to do with this?" Martin asked.
"He could've done something to stop Phoebe from getting hurt, but he didn't do it." Gerald said.
"How?"
"There was... someone shooting at us, right in front of Arnold, but he didn't act to stop him. Didn't jump on him or anything. Just stood there. The guy fired off a few shots, one hit Phoebe. That's what crippled her. Arnold didn't make any attempt whatsoever to punish the guy. He let him go, no consequences or anything."
Martin once again thought over what his son had told him, figuring out a way to answer his question in a sound and logical way to give him the right answer. This time, his efforts were not so quick to come up with the right thing to say, having no personal experience to draw on.
"That's... really hard to get past, I'm not going to lie. But you know Arnold best. He's not the kind of person to seek vengeance or punish someone. He's always been about turning the other cheek. You'd be asking a lot of him to try to do harm on someone else." Martin said.
Gerald began to laugh at his father's comment, finding it ironic in his lack of knowledge behind Arnold's true nature.
"What's so funny?" Martin asked.
"Dad. If you only knew what Arnold was capable of, you wouldn't have said that." Gerald said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind. Look, the point is, I still haven't forgiven Arnold for that. I know for a fact that he could've done something, but he didn't. Phoebe's the way she is because of him."
"Does she blame him for it?"
"No. That's the craziest part of it all, she-"
"If she doesn't blame him for what happened, then why do you?"
"You said that saving Miller was your duty. Your responsibility. Let's say for a moment that you didn't save him. What would you do then?"
"Then I'd feel regret for the rest of my life for not doing more and wish I'd have done something."
"Good. I hope that's how Arnold feels."
"And I'd probably spend as much of my life as I could trying to make things right, damn the consequences. If I made a mistake, I make sure that I make up for it. I might not have known Arnold as well as you, but I can tell he was a stand-up guy. He fought for the people he loved. He fought for you. I can guarantee you that if he really did wrong you in some way, then I bet that pushes him to do the right thing now."
Being given a strong case for Arnold by his father, Gerald's emotions towards him began to soften for the first time in a long while, feeling sympathy and compassion for his best friend once again. In the instant of realizing the facts, his feelings brought him to care for Arnold again, disregarding all the trouble that had come between them.
Having gained care for his friend back, Gerald also felt a thankfulness towards his father for the oppportunity, giving his thanks verbally.
"Thanks. I needed that. And thanks for the time to talk. But I gotta go." Gerald said.
"Where are you going all of a sudden?" Martin asked.
"To stand and fight for my friend... with my fiancee."
Stepping out of the room to follow through his promise, Gerald left his father behind to contemplate on his job well done, smiling as he instilled a moral lesson to his son and pushed him to do the right thing. Having another job to fulfill, he turned his phone back on, returning to his work.
Gerald, marching out into the snowy weather, made his way down to the protests, quickly meeting up with the crowds chanting for the return of Hillwood. Looking for his target of Phoebe Heyerdahl, he quickly spotted her in the midst of the crowd, signaled by a woman in a wheelchair holding up a banner that read: 'HILLWOOD IS MY HOME, THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE IT!'.
Stepping over to her, Gerald took hold of her banner and lifted it higher in the air, causing her to turn around and realize his presence. Taking on the fight alongside her, Gerald looked to her with a smile and a nod, communicating all that she needed to know.
Giving a simple communication of her own back, Phoebe smiled back to him.
Though signs seem to communicate otherwise to the general public, the situation of Hillwood is on the mind of the government, most notably in the executive branch with President Millius Arcudi. Having his official office surrounded by protesters on the streets, all calling chants that decry him as a murderer for sentencing countless citizens of Hillwood to death, he is at an impasse.
On one end, almost all of the populace of the country call out for him to reverse the decision to disown Hillwood, with faith and legitimacy in the United States dwindling both domestically and to foreign countries. If he continues to do nothing, he will be judged accordingly by the polls in his next election.
On the other, all advisors, lobbyists, and fellow politicians implore him not to take any action to reinstate Hillwood, saying that such action would cause the country as a whole more harm than good for various economical and sociological reasons. If he defies their wishes, he will not serve for president much longer, much less last for re-election.
Torn between two different pressure points for his election, he is left to choose between the lesser of two evils. Not being a man who likes to take any unnecessary option that would cause him or his career harm, his first instinct is to find a middle ground; some way that he can still come out on top and not have his reputation tarnished.
In such desperate times, he leans towards desperate measures.
Surrounded by Secret Servicemen, President Arcudi sits at his desk, across from him a collection of 5 notorious supervillains:
Nailbomb, an explosives expert with an appetite for destruction...
Icebreaker, a man both made of ice and who can create it at his will...
Decibel, a master of all manner of soundwaves...
Killer Crab, a heavyweight brawler with the proportional strength of a crab...
...and Tommy Gunn, a living 1930's gangster pastiche whose name is his weapon.
These 5 men are known to be the collaborators of Silver Sentinel during his scheme to run the world's first superhero scam operation in the small town of Royal Woods, Michigan, but were famously stopped by Lincoln Loud and his family, making their debuts as Ace Savvy and the Full House Gang.
They are not without their own personal losses from their fights; Decibel requires an apparatus to hear again, Nailbomb's suit is a walking hospital bed, and Tommy Gunn is traumatized from the experience he shared with a young girl named Lucy Loud, but none of these shortcomings are on the mind of President Arcudi.
Instead, he has his own use for these men.
"'Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country'. One of this country's greatest presidents spoke that line, and it inspired many young men to enlist for service to our great nation. Myself included. Sure, he was a democrat and a sex fiend, but, in this business, who isn't?" President Arcudi asked.
"Hey, chief. Is there a reason you dragged us here, or are you just trying to bore us with your bland jingoism?" Icebreaker asked.
"Yeah, my therapy session's due in an hour." Tommy Gunn said.
"Straight to the point. Good. I need that." President Arcudi said.
Pulling out a dossier on the supervillains presented before him, he carefully looked over their notes, furthering his strategy for their usages.
"It seems you boys have gotten yourselves in deep water. Ran a scam operation with your former nemesis, Silver Sentinel. Tried to turn a small-town city into your own sandbox of crime." President Arcudi said.
"Hey, man, we only went along with it because S.S. woulda killed us 6 ways from Sunday if we didn't." Nailbomb said.
"Uh-huh. And how'd that argument work in front of the judge?"
The question left the supervillians silent, none able to give an answer that showed any fortune in their favor.
"That's right. 110 years in prison for each of you, no chance of parole. None of you ever get the chance to be free again. Lock you right up and throw away the key. But... not to worry, for today's your lucky day." President Arcudi said.
Reaching in a drawer in his desk, the President pulled out a collection of 5 pardons, waving them in front of his guests. The supervillains, being teased with the promise of being free again, absolved of every crime on their record, looked to the pardons with hunger and desire; their eyes locked onto the papers.
"I have a total of 5 presidential pardons with your names on them, giving you the oh-so-beautiful 'Get Out of Jail Free' card that people like yourselves only dream about." President Arcudi said.
"Oh, shit, we're free men? Why didn't you say so?" Killer Crab asked.
"Because you're not. Not yet. First, you have to do a little something for me first. These pardons all come with a price tag, and a very hefty one, too."
The supervillains collectively calmed from their excited demeanor to a disappointing one, but still listening carefully to what was required of them.
"Okay, we get it. You want us to do something for you to save your ass politically, right? Well, what is it?" Decibel asked.
"How astute you are. Well, I'll give you a little hint. It has to do with said political situation of mine, and the root cause of this problem." President Arcudi said.
All understanding the task for which they would be sent to do, the supervillains' demeanor now turned from disappointed to fearful, knowing that...
"You want to send us to Hillwood. Don't you?" Icebreaker asked.
"Correct." President Arcudi said.
Going through yet another mood change, the supervillains grew both annoyed and fearful of the task, none wishing to take it on.
"Oh, come on, what are you gonna do, send us off to die an televise the whole damn thing for the country to see?" Nailbomb asked.
"Nope. You're going to go in, assess the situation on the ground, and evaluate the threat that Thaddeus Gammelthorpe poses to the United States. If he proves to be a threat to the country, eliminate him. In return, all these beautiful pardons that you can't seem to take your eyes off are all yours. You'll be free men. That's the deal on the table. The terms are non-negotiable. What do you say?" President Arcudi asked.
The supervillains looked to one another for advice, quietly conversing with one another to find the best course of action.
"Why us?" Decibel asked.
"You all fought against Silver Sentinel for years, one of the world's most powerful beings short of the Green Eye himself. We don't know what Gammelthorpe is totally capable of, so we need men who are experienced in fighting against persons of mass destruction. You're all we've got. Now, I need an answer, are you in or are you out?" President Arcudi asked.
Once again, the supervillains looked to one another to decide, still unsure of what to make of the offer.
"Just one question, chief. If we do make it back, we're really free men?" Tommy Gunn asked.
"Straight, just like I said. Last chance. Are you willing to go to fight and pay back Uncle Sam for some of those indescretions you've made against him? Or is it back to prison for the rest of your supernatural lives?" President Arcudi asked.
For one last time, the supervillains looked on one another to find an answer, all quickly trying to come up with one. Though the choice seemed hard to make on face value, the promise of death almost certain with a job like this, they knew that they truly had nothing to lose if they did accept, and a chance at life out of prison seemed well worth any risk.
As such, they found their answer, which led President Arcudi to smile.
"Good choice. Your country takes great pride in your service." President Arcudi said.