Synesthesia

by Xomniac

Music and Color bring freedom and a new player to the dark streets of Brockton Bay. The Composer has arrived, and she intends to play her song for all to hear.

12. Sonata 11

Sonata 11

Miss Militia sighed heavily as she stared at the reflection of herself cast on the murky liquid sloshing around in her glass. Currently, it was the only sight she could willingly stomach. Even now, the light titter of meaningless pleasantries and idle gossip was grating at her ears.

At the moment, if Miss Militia could be anywhere else at the moment, she would be there in an instant. Anything to escape the undeserved praise that was making her sick.

'Honestly...' she thought ruefully as she tilted her head back and swiftly drained the glass in a single sour swallow. 'This isn't a celebration of victory. This is us resting on the laurels we stole from others.'

Miss Militia had been far from enthused when she'd been informed of the gala, and she and several other heroes had attempted to make their grievances clear with the Director. Unfortunately, their protests had fallen on deaf ears: Director Piggot had made it clear that all of the Protectorate and Wards were to be present for the event, or else there would be consequences.

The military-themed hero couldn't help but let a hint of scorn slip into her gaze as she watched Brockton Bay's upper-crust mill about around her. 'Here we are celebrating while others starve...' She let out a heavy sigh as she cast a wistful stare at the window. 'I wonder how many Merchants I could have caught by now...'

Judging by the hushed conversation going on nearby, she wasn't the only one dissatisfied by the way things were turning out.

"Listen, Director, please! If you would just-!"

"No, you listen to me, Dauntless. You will remain here throughout the night or I will see you transferred to Anchorage, in Alaska! I've heard wonders about one of the local Wards. Also, I have no intention on rescinding my statement, so don't even attempt to bring that up, am I clear?"

"... yes Director."

"Good. Now try and smile, there are people watching."

Miss Militia didn't even need to turn around to know that her fellow hero was stiffly marching towards her, a corpse-like grin on his face. She held up the bottle of wine she was holding helpfully. "Want a glass?"

Dauntless grunted in agreement as he snatched the bottle out of her hand, grabbing a nearby glass and filling it. "The way I feel, I think I might be better chugging the whole bottle. Who knows, I might get lucky and the resulting scene will grossly insult Pi-the director," He drained the glass in a single gulp before grimacing at the taste. "Ergh... and I don't even like wine..."

"Rough day?" Hannah asked kindly.

Dauntless hung his head and sighed heavily. "Rough week. This is... so wrong, on so many levels," His entire posture all but screamed weariness. "I promised her, you know? The Composer. I promised we'd give the Reapers some credit..." He shook his head sadly. "Some hero I am. I can't even keep a promise to a little girl."

"I'd hesitate to call her 'little'," the hero and heroine turned and cast a not entirely kind look at Armsmaster as he approached them. "Especially considering how she was able to summon a ten-ton bird to do her bidding at a moment's notice."

"What do you want, Armsmaster?" Dauntless muttered sourly. "Shouldn't you be posing for the cameras like the media darling you are?"

Armsmaster had lost a lot of credit with the Brockton Bay Protectorate when he had refused to help them attempt to dissuade the Director from throwing the gala, or convince her to amend her statement on the Reapers.

Armsmaster scowled at his counterpart as he poured himself a glass of his own. "Back off, I'm enjoying this as much as you two."

"Oh really? I thought it was your dream to be Public Hero Number One." Dauntless accused.

"If I were to harbor any such desires for media fame," He responded evenly, "then I would want to attain them via my own actions," He succinctly cast a rueful look at the party-goers around them. "Believe me, I enjoy being a pawn in socio-political chess games as much as any of you. I'd much rather be in my lab."

Miss Militia stared at him dryly for a second before sighing heavily and nodding. "Fair enough. So, apart from looking good for the cameras and trying to drown our shame, what else is there to do at this kind of... gathering."

"Well for one..." The three shifted their attention to Battery as she walked up to them, glancing around and biting her lip nervously. "You might want to help me find Assault."

"You lost him!?" Armsmaster hissed urgently.

"It's not my fault!" She defended desperately. "I was keeping him on a tight leash like I usually do at these kind of events, but then some redhead, Barney, Barnson? Whatever! She came up to me, asking me for my autograph, and I lost track of him!"

Miss Militia glanced at the concession table they were standing at. "Well, at least he can't spike the punch this time. When did you lose him?"

"... an hour ago?"

"We're fucked." Dauntless stated tactfully.

"I think that you might want to double that, sir."

Armsmaster scrunched his eyes shut as he heard Aegis speak up behind him. "Clockblocker went missing around the same time, didn't he."

"Sorry, sir. I'd take full responsibility, but I'm resilient, not suicidal."

"Fair enough."

"Alright, look!" Miss Militia interjected. "I know that one of them alone at a party is asking for a prank, and both of them just multiplies things, but whatever they do, I'm sure it's not worth causing a panic over."

-o-

"Alright, according to Chicago's blueprints, the maintenance room should be riiight... here!"

"Alright, now we- woah! Holy shit, that's a lot of switches! Which one did Synth and Chiptune say to hit?"

"That's DJs Synth and Chiptune, buddy! And... this one! Now when do we-?"

"Eight on the dot... meaning right now! Flip it!"

"Alright! Let's do this!"

-o-

Suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness.

Amidst the screams of panic, there was a flash of green light. "Not a word. Clear?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Dauntless's grin was obvious in his voice.

"Alright, enough messing around, flashlights out."

There was a bit of shuffling around until, with several clicks, multiple beams of light shone through the dark, illuminating the panicked crowd.

"Alright, now if I were a pair of brainless pranksters, where would I go..."

"Come on out, Clockblocker! Make things easier on yourself!"

"Um, s-sir?"

Armsmaster angled his flashlight at the speaker. "What is it, Kid Win?"

"I just talked to one of the PRT troopers. The lights aren't just out in this room, they're out throughout the entire building. I'm not a hundred percent certain on this, but... I don't think that Clockblocker or Assault did this."

"Then who-?"

"Armsmaster!"

The Tinker hero was thankful for the darkness as he grit his teeth in frustration. "Yes, Director Piggot?"

"Would you care explaining to me why such a crucial event as this is taking place in the dark?"

"We're handling the situation, Director."

"You'd damn well better be. Now hurry up and find out just who is responsible for this so that they can be held accountable."

Suddenly, a bright light flashed through the building's windows. All eyes turned and watched as a large screen of light appeared over the bay, displaying an image of static for all the city to see.

And then came the noise: a booming voice that echoed throughout all of Brockton Bay.

"HEEELLOOOOO PEOPLE OF BROCKTON BAY!"

Battery's mouth ran dry as she recognized the voice. "Oh shit."

Another voice continued where the previous one left off. "WE ARE ON THE AIR!"

"This... will not be pleasant." Miss Militia stated solemnly.

"AND IN THE WAVES!"

"Now can I say I told you so?" Dauntless demanded.

"BRINGING THE TUNES FROM US TO YOU!"

"ONCE ANEW, HONEST AND TRUE!"

"IT'S TIME FOR THE REAPER REVIEW!" The two voices finished in succession.

"The Reapers." Piggot growled darkly.

"It appears they're reacting to your press conference." Armsmaster stated. "As I warned you they would."

"Not now, Armsmaster!"

"Good night, people of Brockton! I'm the great DJ Chiptune!"

"And I am the illustriousDJ Synth!"

"Tonight, we have a very specialedition of the Review for you all!"

"For the first time ever, we have the big boss herself givin' you all a true and proper statement!"

"And so, without further ado, we give you..."

"The Composer herself!"

The holographic screen suddenly flickered and flashed, the static fading away to show the woman of the hour, body hidden in darkness and shadows.

"People of Brockton Bay!" The Composer's voice boomed menacingly. "Tonight, I address you all in order to inform you of not only my demeanor, but of the demeanor of allReapers." The Composer leaned forwards menacingly. "We are displeased. No... displeased is an understatement. We are furiousat the Parahuman Response Team, and the insultthey have directed towards us."

Director Piggot snorted at the words. "And so she shows her true colors."

"Yeah, colors you coerced..." Dauntless muttered under his breath.

"What did you just say."

"Nothing, ma'am. Absolutely nothing."

"It is not enough..." The Composer snarled, "That you blame us for halting Lung's attempt to lead his men to commit bloody, senseless murder. It is not enough that you ignore our part in mitigating the havoc wrought by Bakuda. And it is not enough that you call the actions of not just us, but everyvillain in Brockton Bay to halt the ABB's rampage 'inflammatory'. No..." The Composer drew herself up to her full height. "You decided to throw a party. You celebrated Lung's downfall... and you didn't. Invite. Us."

Silence reigned over the gala-goers.

"What." Shadow Stalker stated flatly.

"You dare to begin festivities without inviting the foremost purveyors of merriment in all the city? This injustice will! Not! Stand! As such... we've decided to completely and utterly ruinyour little soirée. How might we do this you ask? Well..." The Composer spread her hands wide."There are a variety of methods through which we could accomplish such a task. We could simply crash it: invade and overrun it with a celebration of our own. We could vandalize it. Deface all those fancy jewels and dresses of your guests. And the Protectorate base! It would put a damper on the evening's events were we to give it a new custom coat of paint..."

Suddenly, the Composer wheeled around, turning her back on the camera. "But no! These methods of vengeance are base! Weak and brutish, unfit for our unique brand of disregard for the restrictions of the law! No..." She slowly turned to face the camera once again. "What we shall do will be far, farworse. We will not touch your party, oh high and mighty Director EmilyPiggot.We shall not even come close to it. For you see..."

The shadowy figure leaned in close to the camera, the only part of her eyes, a mischievous twinkle shining in them.

"We intend to utterly outclass it."

Once again, silence reigned.

"What." Piggot stated.

The Composer jumped back from the camera, pointing a finger up in the air. "HIT IT!"

Without rhyme or reason, the city below the gala exploded with light and color, massive beams of luminescence slicing through the air from the ground and high into the sky.

A song began to echo throughout the city, its beat thrumming within the chests of every citizen who could hear it.

"What the hell...?" Armsmaster questioned numbly.

Miss Militia flashed a sniper rifle into her hands, peering through the scope momentarily before flinching away and rubbing her eye. "Kind of bright, but... it looks like the whole of the Boardwalk is lit up."

"That's right, Brockton Bay! The Reapers are throwing a party!" The Composer's voice boomed over the music. On screen, the darkness had evaporated, revealing the founder of the Reapers. She was clad in a bright green pinstripe suit that had a mess of musical notes arrayed across it. The lower half of her mouth was hidden by a scarf with a cartoonish smile painted on it, and perched on her head was a matching green fedora. Clutched in her hands was a black walking cane, topped with a pure white cartoonish skull with wings rising from it.

Her surroundings were revealed to indeed be on the Boardwalk. The tourist trap had been adorned with a mass of streamers, banners, and other such party decoration. All around her was a veritable mass of Reapers who were jumping and dancing wildly, all at the epitome of bliss.

"You see..." The Composer twirled her cane expertly in her hand as she casually strolled through the chaos, the camera following alongside her. "We were all horribly put off when we found ourselves uninvited to theevent to be at. We raged, we cried... but then we got over it! 'Ah well!' we thought! 'If those PRT blowhards won't let us have fun with them, then we'll just have to make some fun of our own!' And so, we got to work! It took a lot of doing. We simplymustgive credit where it is due to the Undersiders, they were crucialin setting all of this up! But the end result is nonetheless magnificent! So throw your 'gala', PRT," She waved her hand in a dismissive shooing gesture. "For you see, we don't care! Tonight, we shall host an even bigger and better party! Tonight, we host one of- nay, we host the greatest party that Brockton Bay has ever seen!"

"That's right people!"

The Composer didn't even flinch when Gangsta suddenly dropped into the frame, flinging an arm over her shoulders.

"This, right here, right now, is theplace to be! This is the most happening spot in all the city!"Gangsta cackled madly, drunk on the energy surrounding her. "All night long, we're gonna be hosting the most kickass shindig in history! And thanks to a little bit a' Leet's tinkering, you all get to watch it goin' on every single second! 'Course, it doesn't have to be through a screen!"

The Composer nodded in agreement with her friend's statement. "My comrade has a point. You see, unlike the stuffy PRT's get together, which is strictly for our fair city's elite, this party is all-access! Everyone is welcome! Heroes, civilians, yes, even the villains will be allowed in with open arms!"

"Though, fair warning, if anyone starts any shit, we'll toss 'em out with closed fists!" Gangsta snickered.

"You see..." The Composer swept her cane out over the crowd. "This here is the ultimateexpression of what it means to be a Reaper: tonight is a night of freedom! For this one night, the shackles of society will not bind us! Tonight, we! Are! FREE!"

The crowd roared around her in approval, their cries of ecstasy ringing throughout the city.

"So please, oh illustriousDirector of the PRT," The Composer chuckled as she balanced on her cane and lowered the brim of her hat over her eyes. "Enjoy your gala. Savor your political success. Meanwhile, we'll be right over here relishing our own victory. And should any members of the Protectorate wish to come and join us..." She glanced up at the camera, a glint of mirth ever-present in her eyes. "Please, feel free."

And with that, the camera swung up and away over the throngs, pointing instead at a madly grinning Hip and Hop as they hung in the air, suspended by a pair of tattoo-wings protruding from their backs.

"Helloooo Brockton Bay!" Hip crowed. "I'm Hip!"

"And I'm her brother Hop!" Her brother crowed. "We'll be your guides throughout the party tonight, our camera flying alongside us courtesy of one of our signature Death Thrash Minks!"

"Come on, we'll show you around!" And with that, the two and the camera dove into the crowd, the pair pointing out events and details as they went.

Piggot's fury as obvious by the way her breathing had increased as she stared at the screen. "This. Is. An. Outrage!"

"It's certainly one hell of a maneuver, you've gotta give them that," Aegis stated only semi-reluctantly, only to hastily clamp his mouth shut when the Director turned and shot him a vehement glare.

"And just where are Assault and Clockblocker?" She demanded.

Any responses were cut off by Hip and Hop suddenly speaking up.

"One of the manyattractions we have here tonight is a mind-boggling array of beverages, ranging from as flat as water to liver-failure inducing! All served by our one and only Southern!"

"Looks like South and one of his customers are throwing down something fierce!"

On the screen, the Texan Reaper was shown to be behind a bar, his head tilted back as he chugged down an absolutely massive mug of beer, cheered on by a multitude of party-goers. Finally, the man finished the drink and slammed the glass down on the bar, letting loose a massive gut-centered belch which was met with resounding cheers.

"Give it up, pencil-neck," He warned good-naturedly. "Ain't no way you can defeat me in a drinkin' contest!"

"Oh yeah!? Well there's no way I'm gonna lose!" An exuberant, nigh childish voice shot back.

Miss Militia's jaw dropped open in shock as she recognized the voice. "Oh. My. God."

The camera panned out to reveal a tall, fit man with messy sandy hair and a madcap grin sitting across from South, an equally massive mug of frothing beer in his hand.

"And you know why!?" He demanded boisterously. He raised the mug high in the air in a joyful salute. "BECAUSE I'M FROM BROOKLYN, BABY!" And with that, he tipped the mug back, swallowing cup after cup of the alcohol. Finally, he slammed the mug down, cackling madly."HIT ME!"

The Reapers roared their approval.

Armsmaster groaned as he ran his hand over his helmet. "I am giving him monitor duty for the rest of the year for this..."

Battery was frozen, staring silently at the scene.

"Battery? Are you alright?" Miss Militia whispered under her breath.

The heroine slowly shook her head. "I... I'm confused about what to do?"

"Um... work past it or divorce?"

"No... I mean whether I should punch him... or kiss him like I've never kissed him before."

"...both?"

"That works."

Meanwhile, Piggot was livid, her entire body shaking with abject fury. She opened her mouth to say something, anything...

When the camera suddenly started moving again. "Also, as you've probably noticed, we've got a killersound system set up over here!"

"And it ain't Leet's either! He couldn't make one, so we provided our own! Or rather, DJ Chiptune and DJ Synth did!"

"Check it!"

And with that, the view shifted to a massive stage, surrounded by Reapers and civilians. The DJs Synth and Chiptune were standing behind an elaborate combination of mixing boards, keyboards and turntables, their fingers flying across the devices in perfect synch as they composed an electronic masterpiece.

Perhaps most breath-taking of all was the way their music was being dispersed: the cables led away from the devices towards the back of the stage and up into the air. They were firmly attached to the feet of a pair of massive yellow bat-shaped Noise that were keeping aloft of the party on their tattoo wings. One's wings were red, while the other's were purple. Both had their mouths open and their heads tilted towards the sky, sound erupting from them and spreading throughout the city.

"Those right there are Pteropus Canor and Vespertilio Canor!" Hip announced proudly.

"Turns out that Bat noise can convert electronic signals into audio signals! Not even the Boss knew that till our good music maestros figured it out!" Hop explained.

"It's the entire reason why she endorsed their radio station and gave them the Canors in the first place!"

"Come on, let's go and give 'em a chat!"

The twins and the camera swung down to hover in front of the DJs.

"Hey Synth!"

"Hey Chiptune!"

The techno-garbed disc jockeys flipped a few switches and tapped a few buttons on their devices, setting the music to loop before smiling at the two.

"Hey Hip, Hop!" Synth saluted.

"And he-llooo Brockton Bay!" Chiptune waved at the camera. "Finally, after so long you all have a face to put to my beautiful voice!"

"Kinda disappointing, ain't it?"

"Oh, and you're much better?"

"Hey guys!" Hip interjected. "Fun as you two fighting is, anything you wanna say to the fans at home or on their way here?"

The DJ Reapers glanced at each other before smirking mischievously.

"Nah, we'll let the music speak for us!"

"But there's someone else who's got something to say! HEY KID! GOT ANYTHING TO SAY TO THE GOOD PEOPLE OF BB?"

The camera swung around, a figure clambered onto the stage...

CRASH!

And the glass Piggot had been holding shattered in her fist.

"HELLO BROCKTON BAY! MY NAME IS CLOCKBLOCKER AND I LOVETHE REAPER REVIEW!" The fully costumed Ward crowed exuberantly.

"Director Piggot, I swear to you, I in no way, shape or form condone the actions that Clockblocker has taken!" Aegis hastily stated.

Armsmaster pointedly chose to ignore the flashing words his visor was displaying.

"Haha! There's our main man!" DJ Chiptune cried as he flung his arm around the Ward's shoulders. "Geeze, I gotta tell you, you hear the words 'number one fan' thrown around alot, but hot damn! If this kid doesn't exemplify the phrase, then no onedoes!"

"I hear you, brother!" Synth nodded in agreement. "Almost every! Damn! Night! That we take in guest calls this boy's right in there! He's insatiable!"

"Aww, what can I say, guys?" Clockblocker defended cheekily. "I love your music, your jokes, the whole nine yards! And seriously, it is greatto be here for you guys! And... you know that I don't even remotelystand by Piggy's press statement, right?"

The sound of grinding glass came from Director Piggot as she crushed her fist ever tighter.

"Nah, s'all good man!" Chiptune reassured. "Fact is, we don't blame none of the Protectorate for the hate! Them, we're good with. The PRTon the other hand, well! Let's just say a few of our future works are gonna be a weebit pointed."

"But enough hate!" Synth cried, flinging his arms out. "Tonight is a night of joy and celebration! See, we'll still be transmitting our good show throughout the length of the event, so whaddaya say, kid?" He patted Clockblocker on his back and gestured at their musical composition station. "For tonight, wanna be an honorary Reaper and be on the Review?"

"Hell, why not quit the Wards and become one of us full-time? Sure seems like Piggy doesn't care too much for any of your opinions!"

The heroes suffered a brief moment of panic before Clockblocker laughed and shook his head."Sorry guys, but I've got too many friends in the Wards! Gallant, Aegis, Vista, Kid Win, hell, even Browbeat, and I ain't known him that long! There's no way in hell I could abandon them! Still, if it's just for tonight? Then hell yeah! Let's rock!"

Silence reigned over the party, the only real noise being the clink of glass falling to the floor as a PRT trooper worked to remove the glass from Piggot's hand.

"Er... Director? Are you-?" Miss Militia inquired hesitantly.

"Get. Down there. And stop this. Now." The Director hissed, her her voice shockingly even.

"But Director-!"

"Militia." Armsmaster cut in somberly. "You can argue and ultimately lose, or we can just go now."

The Heroine looked at him desperately for a moment before sighing and following behind him, the rest of the Wards picking their way through the crowd as they followed behind.

Unseen, near the concession stand, a relatively large man in a garish Hawaiian shirt flipped his phone out and dialed a number. He was answered almost instantly. "Hello, Rebecca?"

"Glenn. To what do I owe the honor?"

"I want a raise."

"...aren't we paying you enough already?"

"If I manage to keep the backlash from this from snapping all our necks? Not even close."

-o-

Hookwolf was... confused. He'd seen Kaiser in a lot of moods. Angry at failure, brooding atpersonal failure, pleased at success, gloating at personal success, contemplative when considering strategies...

But for the life of him, Hookwolf could not think of a single instance where he'd seen Kaiser actually laugh.

Well, until now anyways.

"HAHAHAHA!" Kaiser bellowed uproariously, his body tilted back and a hand pressed against his mask as he shook with mirth.

Hookwolf was well and truly confounded. Ever since the Reapers had begun their transmission, all Kaiser had been doing was laughing and laughing, his joy mounting with every second the spectacle had continued.

Finally, he couldn't help himself. "Sir?" Hookwolf questioned tentatively. "W-what's so funny? I-are we going to allow this or-?"

Almost instantly, Kaiser silenced himself, directing a vicious glare at his subordinate. "Inform the troops that if even a single one of them attempt to disrupt the Reapers' party, then I will deal with them personally. Am. I. Clear?"

Hookwolf shuddered at the sheer vitriol in his boss' voice. "U-understood. But... why!? I mean, isn't this too... too bold? Why shouldn't we strike them down for insulting us like this!?"

"Because..." The self-confident smirk he usually wore was obvious in Kaiser's voice. "They are being exactly as bold as they need to be. And the insult they are so expertly extending is solely directed at the PRT. Not even the Protectorate: the PRT. This is truly, well and truly a reason to celebrate!"

"Soo... we'll be attending then?"

Kaiser sighed remorsefully and shook his head. "Sadly, no. As kind as the Composer's invitation is, it would present too much of an air of allegiance were I to present myself. As such, I shall simply recuse myself..." He reached down into a drawer of his desk and retrieved a bottle of scotch, which he toasted heartily. "And celebrate in my own way. Although..." He glanced at the doorway to his office. "Should anyone else desire to attend, then it is entirely up to them."

Hookwolf looked over his shoulder and blinked in surprise as Othala pumped a fist in victory before darting away, dragging a fairly uncomfortable Night behind her.

"... got any more of those bottles?"

"Whiskey or gin? The scotch is mine, only the best for the execution of the PRT's image."

-o-

"Alright you fuckers, listen up!"

All the heads in the drug-den, both sober and not, as Skidmark raised his voice to address all the Merchants and customers present.

"Let's make one thing clear here, alright?" He bellowed. "If even one, one of you cuntsacks tries to bash up that cocky bitch's night, then I'll cut you off so fast you won't even know what the fuck hit you, or from what direction, clear!?"

An assortment of mumbled and grunted confirmations answered him, any and all protests raised being met with their feet suddenly being swept out from under them by discolored strips of ground.

"Good. Now fuck off." Skidmark grunted, wheeling around and stomping back into his personal den, barely even slowing down as a weight suddenly hung itself on his arm.

"Aww, c'mon Skiddy..." Squealer slurred as she clutched at him. "Can't we just go down there? Just for a bit? I wanna have some- OOF!" She grunted when Skidmark planted an elbow in her gut, causing her to double-over and heave.

"What part of the word 'no' don't you understand, bitch!?" Her leader demanded viciously. "I ain't gonna look weak by showin' up, and if I ain't there, then there's no way in fuck that you're going either!" He snorted and spat to the side. "The only reason we ain't crashing the whole damn thing is that it took some serious balls for the bitch to pull this off, big fat fucking steel ones. I might not like her and the rest of her shitheads, but if there's something I can respect, it's that. So for now, we stay the fuck back, clear?"

"Uh... boss?"

Skidmark looked over his shoulder at the familiar gruff voice before looking up. And up and up...

If there was one quality about Mush that was universal, it was that he was big. Easily seven and a half feet tall and built like an ox, the burly man was wearing the usual ratty cloak-hoodie combo he always wore, the only visible part of his face being his dirty lantern-jaw. The rest of it was obscured by a mask of burlap cloth. Wrapped around his fists were a pair of chains.

"The fuck do you want?" Skidmark demanded gruffly.

Mush blinked numbly at him for a second, the cogs obviously turning in his mind.

Skidmark rolled his eyes as he waited. Same old Mush: a lot of brawn, not a lot of brains.

"Umm..." The large man finally answered. "Can I go to the party, boss?"

Skidmark's scowl deepened further. "Goddamn it, You big idiot! What part of 'no' didn't you get!?... second thought, don't answer that. Alright, answer this: why the fuck do you wanna go!?"

Mush blinked again before hunching his shoulders and poking his fingers together. "I really like their drawings... the colors are pretty..."

Skidmark hissed out a string of curses under his breath as he kneaded the bridge of his nose. "I am way too sober to deal with this shit..." Finally, he cast a questioning glare at his enforcer. "You high?"

Mush slowly shook his head in denial. "Nuh uh... colors aren't as pretty..."

Skidmark muttered darkly under his breath for a moment before throwing his hands up. "Fine! Go, fuck it, whatever. Hell if I care. Might as well make our presence known. Gotta represent. But!" He jabbed his finger between Mush's eyes. "You fuck this up, you embarrass us or piss someone off, them I'm throwing you to the dogs. And that means something what with Bitch being there. Got it?"

Another moment of contemplation before Mush grinned widely, exposing his yellowed teeth, raised his arms...

"Touch me and die."

Before hastily turning around and lumbering off.

"Goddamn sunnova... whatever. Squealer, you good? Come on, I've got a few ideas I want to- Squea- nonono do n-!"

"HURK!"

"-ot do... goddamn it bitch! Will you hurry up and clean this up!? We're running a business here! Fucking perfect..."

-o-

"Pleeeease? Please please please please-?"

"For the last time, no Victoria! And don't even think of using your aura."

"But moooom!"

"These tickets cost me good money, young lady! There is no way that I am going to throw it all away so that we can attend a rave thrown by a bunch of... of villains!"

"Carol, come on. They're, what? Vandals? At best."

"Sarah!"

"Mom's right, Aunt Carol!"

"Yeah, and their art is really really good!"

"Personally, I wouldn't mind taking on that South guy myself..."

"Neil!"

"Mom, please? You know gala'll just be one of those boring as all hell frilly frou-frou affairs that I hate and you just smile and wave at! I don't want to smile and wave, I want to have fun! Plus, Dean'll most likely be there if Piggy is reacting the way I think she is."

"That's Di-"

"I'm not blind, mom, I've seen the way you two look at each other."

"...regardless of any differences between me and the Director, the fact is that there most likelywill be villains there!"

"So? We can just ignore them! It'll be like an Endbringer fight, only without the bad parts! That's good, right?"

"I..."

"Um... M-mom?"

"... yes Amy?"

"Considering the size of the party and the fact that the Reapers are relatively responsible... I think its more than likely they have a med-tent set up somewhere just in case. And... well... Ido owe it to them for the whole hospital thing. It's the least I can do..."

"Honey, come on. It'll probably be fun."

"... alright Mark, if you say so."

"WOOHOO! Alright, let's get going! We're not going home 'til the sun's up or Amy gets herself a man!"

"Wait, say wh-ACK! VICKY!"

"This is the fastest way! Lighten up, will you? This is going to be the best night ever!"