Power Bar

O

Ochalla

Guest
Original poster
(OOC)

The rain was falling hard in the city of Ouranopolist, as it had been since Dr. Minute's horrible machine had been destroyed. It had been several days after the even that it had become apparent the continuous storm was unnatural and some of the leading scientist the the city were now on work to solve it. There had been a new conference scheduled for noon that day, where the days of labor by the esteemed scientist would be tested. If there calculations were correct then indeed the rain would stop.


They were not. The rain continued well passed noon and the head scientist admitted to being stumped. Coincidently or not, Captain Colossus, the hero responsible for defeating Dr. Minute was not at the conference. It was common for heroes to be at news conferences that related to any of their recent adventures and doubly so for CC.


Crime was at an all time high. It had taken the combined effort of Madam Dreary and the Pulse to expel the Ring Master from the Raymore Park, and they failed to apprehend him. Why they were good heroes, Ring Master was much more powerful then them and it was likely the two heroes would be out of commission after the caper unless they had been extremely lucky.


This and other bits of news and rumors were going through Irene's head as she wiped down the wooden bar. In fact she was getting very worried about someone she had not heard from, nor heard any rumors about in almost a month. By itself that was worrisome, but when she put it with all the other oddness happening in regards to heroes in the city and Irene felt a cold chill go up her spine.


Looking passed the few patrons she looked over at the waitress who was coming back over from a table. The late afternoon group was pretty mellow and it was the best time to chat with other bar employees. "When you see him, can you tell William I need to talk to him?"


"We are all going to need to talk to him if he doesn't show up by tomorrow to do payroll," the waitress said with a smirk.


Irene blinked. "He hasn't been around," she didn't question the waitress. Irene now knew she just hadn't missed seeing their employer, he hadn't been around. It wasn't uncommon, and the staff at the Bellowing Bugle were use to not seeing him. As ling as there were no issues and they got their pay on time they were happy. On the few occasions were William was unavailable Irene had taken care of payroll, but that was usually only when Detective Rose was out of the city. He hadn't told her he was leaving. Granted sometimes things happened unexpectedly.


This wasn't good though, the best person to find someone who was missing was missing himself! Irene had been counting on her employer and friend to help her find her mentor, Visionary.


Indicating she was taking a small break Irene walked away from the bar, walking to the back, to the pool room. When had she seen Rose last? It had to been after that idiot Curt tried beating him up demanding to know about his sister. That had been a mess and thankfully there hadn't been too many regular patrons inside or she never would have been ever able to hide what happened. Yes, Detective Rose figured he would do a little snooping and if she recalled correctly he was going to have Bouncer go with him. Bouncer was not an employee at the bar but was the heroic name of one of Detective Rose's good friends and compatriots. They had worked together on many cases and Bouncer's resilience coupled with Rose's brilliance made them a great team up.


Irene stood in the doorway and looked around. There were a few people having drinks in the pool room. Unlike the rest of the bar only VIPs were allowed in. Most patrons had no idea who they were. Some suspected it wad William Walters' drinking buddies and cronies. They were at least close. These were the men and women that know Walters as Detective Rose and knew each other in more elaborate attire then they wore inside the bar. This was where those that were not stars but still heroes hung out.


"Alright, how many are missing!" Irene, once upon a time known as Magica, demanded of the heroes present. It would have been better if she had actually said what it was she was wondering was missing, or rather who, but she was worried, very worried, and she couldn't have been the only one.
 
Finn Harton sat at one of the small booths situated against the wall away from the pool tables, a hardly touched bottle of cheap beer sitting on the tabletop in front of him. He squirmed nervously in his seat, wondering if anyone had noticed he hadn't been drinking much. If there was one surefire way to look suspicious, he figured it would have to be going to a bar and not finishing at least one drink. Still, he wasn't really there to get drunk or socialize. He had come looking for information about a certain someone, and chances were the patrons who frequented this place would have it. Whether they would be willing to freely divulge what they knew was a whole other matter, but whatever dubious leads he might be able to uncover here would still be better than what little he had had to work with so far.

Looking around the dimly lit room, Finn noted that there were not as many people in the place as he had hoped there would be. Although neither he, nor his mentor, he imagined, had ever been a regular here, Finn had always pictured the Power Bar as a place where all the greats congregated to swap stories of adventures and discuss the nature of their peculiar brand of business. All he saw now, however, was a few minor players from the old powers scene and some washed-up has-beens who had seen better days. B-Listers at best, these were not the folks he had hoped to find. Most likely, none of them would have the inside track to finding Meteor Master he was hoping for, and the only thing he would hear from them would be wistful tales of their glory days, which by now were long since past.

Dismayed by his findings, he got up and began to prepare to leave, putting on his jacket and bracing himself to step out into the endless dreary rain that covered the city these days. As he made his way to the door leading out of the pool room, a young woman entered and stood there, blocking his way. Just as he was about to walk around her, she loudly asked a question of the room's inhabitants, making it quite clear she was frustrated about something. Finn took a second look at her, now beginning to feel a faint sense of recognition. He couldn't quite match a name to her face, but something in her voice and the way she stood there, haughty and flustered, made her seem familiar. Then it struck him like a bolt from the blue. She was Magica, the former protegee of The Visionary. He had never worked closely with her or her mentor, but they were both well known figures from his days of being a sidekick. Even though she now was dressed like a regular waitress, the young woman before him carried herself just like the mysterious mystic he had seen in newspapers and TV reports all those years ago.

"Missing? You mean there are others?" he stammered in response to her question. If she knew about other powers who were missing, maybe she would know something about what had happened to Meteor Master.

Standing there feeling slightly vulnerable now that he had spoken up and wondering if she would recognize him as he had her, he though to himself that he might just have to stay at the bar a little while longer. Maybe the night wouldn't turn out to be as disappointing as he had originally thought after all.
 
Being a superhero was not as easy as it looked, especially if one had to juggle friends, school, studying and superheroics, and even if professional superheroes like Bridget Coghlan's former teacher could do it so effortlessly, she did not have their experience when it came to life smarts. In fact, it could be said that Bridget somewhat lacked in the area of life smarts when it came to managing her time, which she never seemed to have enough of. There were simply so many things she had to do that she could simply not divide her time between them so they seemed to overlap every single time, even leaving her with too little sleep at times. As such, it was not a surprise that she was running through the streets with her umbrella, trying to reach the Power Bar as soon as possible.

Bridget was supposed to have been there quite a few minutes ago, but she knew that she would be at least ten minutes late when compared to the appointed time, and when it came to superheroes, ten minutes were a lot. Ten minutes, as she had learned from Professor M.A.D. through his stories, could mean the difference between the life and death of thousands of citiens when it came to supervillains, and such responsibility was a huge burden for Bridget. Therefore, she had to go as fast as possible, taking the lectures of the professor to heart, even if he had intended to use them as a deterrent to keep her from becoming a protector of justice as well.

As she ran, the puddles splashed up her shins, soaking her jeans. Similarly, even though she had an umbrella, the rain still managed to water her clothes slightly, leaving her feeling a bit cold in this strange weather. But that did not matter, because she was almost at the entrance of the Power Bar, so as such, she quickly closed her umbrella, ducked into the bar, put her umbrella into the appropriate rack and quickly rushed back to the VIP area, showing her entry permit to the guard at the door. Upon doing so, she almost bumped into a woman who was standing near the door, but luckily both for Bridget and Irene, the young girl was able to stop before she accidentally tackled her.

"I am sorry!" blurted out Bridget as she gasped for air, then she calmed her breathing down. "I am sorry I am late," she said as she inspected the young woman in front of her. She did not recognise her, though she had characteristic, red hair which flowed as if it was some sort of wine, and green, striking eyes. "I am Bridget Coghlan, by the way," she said, introducing herself to the woman with a cheerful smile as she had already regained her breath. "Could you tell me where I can find a towel, please?" she asked, pointing to her drenched clothes.
 
He still wasn't quite ready, for this. The money burned a hole in his brown jacket and it felt like a strange situation was brewing. Good thing it was on the chair behind him. Clearly, this little shindig made him curious as to what was going on. Often, his blue-eyed gaze was about the room, trying to get an idea of who and what was happening. Don was still rather new to this place and wondered if these people knew of his powers. Hell, there has only been enough time for him to get a place and unpack his things. It is possible for civies to mix here right?

Unfortunately, these thoughts caused a little bit of a miscalculation. The cue ball didn't quite hit the blue stripe correctly. It sailed just left of the corner pocket. No matter, he was still ahead by two balls. Both lucky shots, as it turns out. Don was an extremely average athlete, save for his selective strength of body and spirit. Still, the missed shot bothered him just a little.

"Your turn." He said kindly, to his impromptu opponent.

His gaze moved to the questioning woman, and Don stepped away from the pool table. He didn't know of any missing supes. In fact, the idea hadn't even crossed his mind that people were gone. That probably doesn't bode well for anyone. Hopefully, Boom wasn't among the suddenly absent.

With the others starting to react, he figured to stand back and attempted to learn something useful.
 
Clara was never one to really head into a bar, she didn't like drinking alone and in most cases she was the driver for the evening which limited her consumption of alcohol quite a bit. Then again, she wasn't here to try and have a drink or enjoy herself, she was in here for a reason after all. As much as she pretended to act like she didn't watch the news when she was in her civilian clothing and work, she did at least listen when a radio or TV was going. The rain was never stopping, and with the hazy scene came a mysterious and worrisome lack of heroes running about. It fact, it seemed that one of her closest friends and partners, Blazing Hot, was among the strangely absent good doers of the city. It wasn't like him to stay away from crime fighting at all, and he had always had a very good reason and left a message if he did. They were partners in a way, and he knew damn well that she'd be on his case if he ever forgot to tell her about his absence of any kind.

It was one of the reasons why she was sitting in a dank bar, surrounded with other B-list heroes like herself. She heard that if she wanted information on someone, it could be found here somehow. So far though, the most she learned was that the place made a decent cocktail and that most of the people here were either retired, washed up or just trying to take a break from the tiring world of crime fighting. She couldn't blame them for that but it made her current task all the more difficult. Who exactly was she suppose to be looking to for this information anyway? On any given day, Clara would just put on her little show for some information, but she wasn't working with the enemy here, she was working with possible alley's. It felt wrong to treat them like a bad guy and use her skills to just learn what she wanted. That, and she couldn't guarantee that there wasn't someone in this room that could be immune to her skills, not only embarrassing herself, but making her search even harder after being so openly exposed.

Glancing to the door as a woman walked in, she was slightly caught off guard by the question. What was missing? Did she think they were trying to sneak out of paying a tab or something. There were heroes in here! Then again, a small part of her wondered if maybe she wasn't asking about things...but people. Not saying a word, she kept silent but observed the conversation that seemed to be developing in front of her. If this was going to be her chance to at least get some help to find her good friend and partner then she wanted to hear every single word!
 
Curt, or La, depending on if they chose to call him by his fake name or his real one, leaned against the wall by the door of the pool room, watching everyone come in, some late, some asking the same question he was: where were the heroes?

He had gotten used to wearing his everyday clothes; his simple black shirt, pants, and the glasses he didn't really need. But today he felt oddly naked without his Col Iage uniform. As a precaution, he had his Kinetic Sword tucked away in his pocket, ready to decapitate any of them at a moment's notice. Anyone could have betrayed his sister.

He wondered if anyone recognized the similarities he shared with Red Guard. His pale, slightly irredecant skin must surely have caught someone's attention. He doubted too many people would notice that he had the same gold eyes, and no one knew their hair color was the same: she had long ago dyed hers to match her costume. He was currently keeping his own unusual hair color underwraps with black dye. As he passed his gaze over each of them in turn, he caught the little magical girl who had been managing the bar. He and her had already met, in a matter of speaking. When he came into the bar a few days ago, demanding to know where his sister Red Guard was, she had thrown him into a wall. It didn't hurt of course, but a fight quickly ensued, a fight he would've handily won had she not cast some kind of cold incantation, making him drop to his knees.

"You know who I'm looking for," he said to her. "I want to find Red Guard. I want to find my sister."
 
It was too wet for this time of year, and not cold enough... still a pea green coat was worn by the woman entering the bar, one with a high collar at the back that combined with her hair kept the back of her neck well hidden. It was an annoyance to keep up back one she was well used to and nowhere near as inconvenient as the fact that she only had one eye the place where the other should be neatly covered by a black eye patch. She shook off her umbrella after she entered the bar and looked around not caring to join the others in the back room as half of the stuck up goodies in there would probably try and arrest her before she had a chance to explain herself.

"I always imagined it bigger." she commented to herself making her way towards the bar and the bar and sliding into a seat, leaning the folded umbrella against the bar and resting her hands on the counter. Max the trilobite-like symbiote making it's home on the back of her neck hated water, it make him twitch and that hurt as much as a shelled creature embedded in your nervous system should hurt... which was why she was extra cautious with the rain.

"Single malt on the rocks, and a word with whomever is leading the costume convention please." she asked the barman and glanced at the pool room before retrieving a few bills to pay for her drink. Max didn't like her drinking either but he kept his protests over that limited to minor annoyance over how it affected her brain over the weak empathic link they shared and this was a partnership they both had to make compromises. Not that she ever drunk heavily anyway.

Another glance at the pool room and she smiled softly to herself, if THAT who would be leading them then this job might be worth it just for the amusement of seeing that. Magica wasn't a has been in Dentra's opinion. To be a has been you had to have been something to begin with.
 


Gabriel's shoulders surged with lactic acid as he pulled the back of his neck past the bar once more. The repetition count burned in his mind like a smoldering brand iron. Cross was no stranger to excessive workouts, but today was driven on a different motive than standard routine. He pushed longer between breaks, denied himself water in place of introspective thought. All the while his body responded as it had been trained. His mind was on anything but muscle failure. His figure could take the strain, it had done it enough times before. The final repetition chimed out in his mental clock as he could feel the brush of cold iron against the back of his neck. Releasing his grip on the bar he dropped to the ground beneath him, landing on his feet with a resounding plop against the boards of the floor. Blood flow pulsed through his aching muscles as a swimmer might gasp for air following a particularly lengthy surface dive. The rest was brief, a second or two at best before the man leaned forward onto his hands. His sweat tinged brows narrowed as he lowered into a push up. The discomfort of the trail was distant, his mind in a place all it's own.

It had been 23 days since Wolfmother last checked in.

The missing person's report had turned up dry and it would have been counter productive to induce further action by revealing her identity. The authorities had either not cared enough to produce results or had been weighed down enough with tribulations of their own. No press, no leads, not even a suspect to question. Gabriel had hoped the event might stir media coverage yielding additional response by law enforcement, but the reality was written across the wall. What would they say? "Ouranopolist's Mightiest Heroes Vanish!" The premise was straight out of a cliche' tabloid gone arise. Without any lead, the only evidence to their disappearing act was the act itself. To draw conclusions against it as a public news company was nothing short of a liability.

Placed between a rock and a hard place, Gabe found himself waiting. An unfortunate side effect of a system gone cluttered. At this point, pressing the department would yield little more than an agitated call rep. If he wanted answers, he'd need to get them himself.

His routine carried on into the late hours of the morning and it was to the sound of rainfall that finally broke his trance. His thumb brushed across an archaic analog wristwatch with an intentionally removed glass face. 11:46. He'd have to get moving soon if he didn't want to be late.

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A quick shower and a change over to his duty 'uniform' carried out before the turn of the hour. He couldn't legally operate a hovercar within the city as a result of his condition even though the man swore up and down that it wouldn't be an issue. Truth be told, considering the nature of some of the drivers within the city, it was likely he'd do a better job. All the same, the rooftops of the city were easy enough to scale. Years of practice and repetition burned the footprint of his trails into the back of his mind like a religious parable. He knew the curves of the streets, the walls of the buildings and while he could not distinguish color and form, his sight was unparalleled.

It was fifteen past the hour when his boots struck the alley pavement behind the location of the gathering. Gabriel slung his bow over a shoulder and reached out for the door, opening it slow enough to take in the sounds of the room. The place was packed, more so than he would have expected. The archer took a moment to memorize the layout and the location of the voices in the room before closing the door behind him. His boots carved a path along the bar before he found a vacant spot against a nearby wall to lean against. A click of his tongue revealed what few corners the already apparent sounds of the room had not already uncovered. Gabe took particular focus on the exits, marking the windows and doors as they resonated differently in comparison to the rest of the building. Contingencies in the face of unplanned circumstance. From the sound of it, no one in the room was a high priority target but if someone wanted to break up an organized resistance before it began, this would be the place to do it. it wasn't until the sound of a woman broke Orion's concentration.

"Alright, how many are missing!" It was a woman's voice speaking from a cleared out section of the room that might have been fitting for live entertainment.

"One here," Orion replied as his arms crossed over his chest, "Wolfmother vanished just under a month ago."
 
"Huh. You know, you really ought to get the vet to install an ID chip. It's not very responsible of you to let them just wander around like that. They might get hit by a low-flying car, chase the shuttle, come home with a litter of puppies and their tail between their legs..."

The voice that so flippantly interjected on Orion's concerned comments came from the man who was sitting alone at the far end of the bar and drumming the tips of gloved fingers in a lazy tempo against the counter top. These weren't costume gloves that he wore, but a plain black pair cut from the kind of thin, ventilated nylon which was typically worn by drummers. In fact, other than the somewhat conspicuous gloves- and the dark movie star shades- his attire was completely mundane and even a bit shabby: an old black leather jacket (it was even made from real cowhide, it was so ancient!), a pale blue shirt with the top button left undone, and faded pinstriped slacks. Civilian clothes, for sure. No one looking at him would ever think he might be a hero.

But then, as far as most people were concerned, Mason Arkwright was no hero. And that included Mason Arkwright, the erstwhile public menace known as Doc Shock.

Some people might wonder why a disreputable character such as himself would ever show his face in a bar frequented by goody-two-shoes and vigilantes. Mason, however, could think of quite a few reasons why he very definitely should. First of all, up until the last few weeks, he'd been getting his drinks here for free. That alone would be reason enough, but the delicious irony was that he got to nurse his cups in a bar full of guys and gals who would love nothing more than to kick his ass... and for various reasons, they couldn't touch him. How could he not love that? And the most important perk of all was that one of two things inevitably occurred when he frequented the Bellowing Bugle: someone tried to give him his due anyway and livened up the evening with a bit of a scrape, or he spent the night in peace and solitude with his scotch and didn't have to deal with scads of drunken barflies trying to make small talk. It was win-win, really, and that's what kept him coming back every week like clockwork.

Well, that and humoring the man who apparently considered him some sort of pet project. Or worse, Mason feared, charity case. But the Sarge hadn't been around for their little chats lately... which was all beginning to be a bit fishy. Mason was willing to bet that Danny Weathers had been born standing to attention, and he certainly wasn't the sort to miss an appointment without even sending a note.

"Get me another one of these, will you? I'm starting to feel a bit dry," he added in a conspiratorial tone to the bartender as he propped an elbow on the bar, jiggling his near-empty glass until it clattered like a beggar's cup full of change. "Trust me, you don't want to see me sober. I'm a real asshole when I'm sober."
 
Irene got their attention. Good. It was both fortunate and unfortunate because between the comments and the looks on people's faces there were several well respected people missing. Irene wanted to say more, to address the ones she knew and the names she reconized, but first.

"Late?" She looked at Bridget in complete confussion even as she handed the woman the bar towel that she had hanging off her appron string. "This isn't a meeting," looking around the room she ammended the comment, "at least it wasn't until I opened my mouth. Damn it, is half the city's heros missing!" What was going on. Worse, yet both Wolfmother & Red Guard were very powerful heros. And was that guy The Cometeer? She hadn't seen him in ages. Not that she knew him personally, but if he was back in action could that mean Meteor Master was too? There were so many questions.

Rolling her eyes she looked over at Mason as he felt the need to talk. She did not understand the guy at all, and it was only William's rules that kept her from kicking him out when she found out who he was. "I'm on break, if you want a drink you should..." And there was a tap on her shoulder. When she looked over and saw the old bartener, a man who had been serving drinks here longer then William had owned the place. In fact she suspected he had been serving since before she was born. A tense smile was on her face as she looked over. "Yes Ric?"

"Strange on in the main bar. You may want to talk to her." The old man said, pointing back to where most the bar patrons were.

Irene sighed. Just when she was getting somewhere. "I'll bring your drink when I get back Mason. The rest of you, might I suggest actually sharing some information?" And she turned and followed the barman out. She did not go behind the bar but walked over to the woman that was indicated to her. At first she did not reconize the woman, but slowly there was a nagging sensation like she should know her. "You know if you've got an invite you can go back there. We try to keep private talk away from here."
 
Finally the fearless leader of the B-Team had arrived. Dentra looked at the witch, if that's what she really was and smiled a thin smile. "I wasn't invited." she said swirling the contents of her glass and looking up at Irene. "And half the people in there, including you want to see me behind bars and not the type in here... It's been a while hasn't it Flicky. Last tile I saw you I still had depth perception. You can thank the Visionary for that."

She drained her glass and placed it back down on the bar before standing wondering if Irene had recognized her yet. If was a fun game watching Irene's face as she spoke. "Slow as ever Flicky but I want to help. I owe the Visionary a favor and wand to see my debt payed as much as you want to see him free so I really need you to tell the costume party in there that there's no need to lock me up until this is over. Aster that it's business as usual but if someone is strong enough to take out supers then we all have reason to be afraid. I'd rather have the goody two shoes enemies I know than someone making a move in a big way that I know nothing about. Besides you need all the help you can get so... truce?"

There it was all her cards on the table and her eye had the same fierce stare to it that it had had the last time they had met, back when Dentra went as Rednigna and didn't have any powers.

"I want to help Jason as much as you do."
 
There was only one person that had ever called her that! It had been ages and one of those embarassing moments as a young hero you never wanted to repeat, and here was the living proof of her young folly! It seemed the years had not treated Rednigma (or whatever she called herself these days) well and Irene frowned more when the woman said she had Visionary to thank for that. She might have given up heroing, but she was doing a good job keeping things safe and sane in the bar and she planned on keeping it that way.

Then the blasted woman had to actually explain she wanted to help. Not for any altruistic reasons, but that was likely a good thing. It was unlikely Irene would believe such words. She looked the woman in the eyes, weighing out the advantages and disadvantages of such a proposal. Part of her even question the wisdom of even entertaining the notion at all.

One thing was for sure, this one did not gamble without an ace up her sleeve. Hearing her mentor's civilian name spoken was a bit like a punch to the gut. "Right now I don't know what type of help I have. You can make your case to the others and I'll remind them of Rose's rules in case they're feeling extra.... vigilant." Turning around she did not go back to the pool room though, but back around the bar. She had a drunk to keep happy in there after all. She really hoped she wouldn't be returning to a fight.
 
She smiled glad that had gone as smoothly as could be expected and she tapped her empty glass. "Give me another too Flicky. And so long as we're working together and you're not really out of retirement you can call me Cristy." Not Dentra's real name but as close as the witch was going to get! "I know you probably don't want me around, I beat you hands down before I got Max but Jason trusted me once, I hope that's good enough for you. You're probably the only one here who knows him better than I do."

That was enough history and she slowly undid her coat revealing the dark top beneath, something more pitting a professional thief. Then she placed the wet coat on the bar and slipped off her seat to land on her feet and start walking towards the back room. So here she was in the den of lions and she was a thief. At least a couple of the B-graders in the room would recognize her and the first one to lock eyes wither her got a raised eyebrow as she moved to the bar and say apart from the man already there.

Calm under pressure, that was her with her back leaning against the bar and facing the assembled heroes... this job would be interesting, and not a lick of profit to be had.
 
Curt couldn't help but smile when he saw Wolfmother's sidekick in the room. More than once in his sister's early days of superheroing she'd been mistaken for Wolfmother because they both wore red. But it wasn't long before Il identified herself as a different hero. Her padding was black, she dyed her hair, and unlike Wolfmother she had the ever-versitile MokTok strapped to her shoulder.

He eyed Dentra as she leaned against the bar. Another individual who didn't look like much of a fight, but was probably capable of more than met the eye. For a moment, he wondered why his people hadn't turned out that way, when he remembered that all of his kind were more than they appeared.

The bulk of his attention, however, fell to Mason when he made his presence known. He may not be a proper hero himself, but this mason had spent some time working on the "wrong side." If he was going to start looking for suspects in his sister's disappearance, why not start with the known villian right there in the room?

Curt approached Mason with no effort to hide his suspicions. "Mason Arkright, correct?" he asked him. "Red Guard mentioned you briefly to me. Have you ever met Red Guard? Or perhaps Wolfmother?"

He gently plucked the empty glass out of Mason's hands and squeezed. The glass shattered, but left no scratches on his nearly impenetrable skin. He didn't have true superstrength, just disciplined muscles. Any human could have broken the glass the same as he had, except they would have received cuts from their effort. He made sure his bright gold eyes were level with Mason's brown ones.

"Who are you looking for, anyway?" Curt asked him. "It is hard to believe you know anyone you could not find in State Pen."
 
So it wasn't just Blazing hot, Wolfmother and Red Guard as well. It seemed that almost every A-list superhero had taken an unannounced vacation without any plans to return soon. And she had a feeling that it would soon be all of them if someone, it possibly being her, didn't start to try and put the pieces together. Not paying much mind to the girl that burst in thinking that was a planned meeting of some kind, Clara decided that it was high time that she made her own loses known. After all, if that could connect the dots somehow to each hero's case then maybe there could be a clue, something that no one would notice unless a pattern was followed...and so far it seemed that everyone here was as clueless about heroes other than their own missing as she had been.

Though, the obvious possibility of a fight being started by the one looking for Red guard and the infamous Mason Arkright certainly would put a damper on any type of proper talks. Besides, Mason had been a baddie before, maybe he had some ideas on who to start with, or maybe some idea on what to be looking out for. Of course, they couldn't get that helpful information if his jaw was broken and he was huffy from a beat down. Standing up. Clara moved smoothly across the room and placed a hand on his shoulder gently and gave it a small pull back away from Mason.

"Cool your jets, this isn't the time to be accusing someone because of past relations. Besides, we all damn well know that if he was still causing trouble he would have never gotten in here without facing some serious consequences. Trust me, you aren't the only one to be worried as well...Blazing Hot has been missing for weeks. Hasn't even been seen doing his usual patrolling. If we are going to find Red Guard, Wolfmother and any other missing heroes...We need to think calmly and be cooperative. Not looking to start fights in a bar."

Pulling her hand back, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked between the men before looking around the room. "So...To start where our lovely host left off...Who's missing who?" Clara asked aloud to the room.
 
He felt the hand on his shoulder and Curt immediately reached for his Kinetic Sword, sheathed and retracted in his pocket. But when he heard her reason he let the blade go and nodded his understanding.

"I apologize," he said. To Clara, not the man he had threatened with a show of force. "You are all searching for mentors. I seek my sister. It is very...personal for me. I cannot guarantee that I will be level headed the entire time."
 
He just stared, not even noticing that his opponent had gone ahead by two sunken balls. People were missing and no one seemed to know why. An impromptu vacation, without notification, seems like a call for help. Now that that thought crossed his mind, Boom Blaster has not been around for the last few weeks. Normally, if they ended up seeing each other there was a chat and laughter. He would teach him about life and how to cope with the job. They even took up arms for one another. Don helped him take on the lower thugs of the city, with the A-Lister continuing further investigation. BB had ended up being a mentor. The young, somewhat unknown hero needed to know what happened.

Ignoring any and all animosity, and an unfinished pool game, Don walked over to the bar. He looked at all the different patrons and decided not to talk to some of them, for now. His focus was to listen, mostly. Turning to the man ordering the drink, he spoke kindly.

"Any chance you know what the heck is going on over there?" He said, pointing to the commotion.
 
There was no meeting? That was strange, because Bridget was sure that Detective Rose told her that there was a meeting taking place today, from this time. Or was she told that people gathered here from a certain time during all week? Now that she thought back to meeting the detective, Bridget became unsure of his wording, finding that she did not remember what he said to her, so she came to the conclusion that she must have misinterpreted the good detective's words. On the bright side, though, the lady whom she almost bumped into gave her the towel, but she did not introduce herself as she seemed more occupied by the prospect of the missing superheroes, something which Bridget could not blame her for. Indeed, professor M.A.D. has also been missing for quite a long time, though Bridget started to suspect that he just broke all contact with her.

She looked at the gathered party and realised that she had heard of most of them through her circle of acquaintances, though there were a few whose identies she could not guess based on their looks. She did not know any one of them personally nor she was sure of their names, so for a second, she contemplated how to approach them. Her thoughts were interrupted by a shattering of a glass and some accusations being thrown around, so she prepared to intervene. Clara was faster than her, though, so by the time she got close enough to interject herself into the conversation, there was nothing to talk about, or at least until Clara asked her question.

"Professor White has been missing for a long time," said Bridget. "I have been searching for him for over a year, so I am starting to think that he has cut ties with me," she added bitterly, then she offered a reassuring smile to Curt. "It is okay to be angry. Just please do not hurt yourself by shattering another glass," she said, a slight shiver running down her spine at the thought of witnessing an injury.
 
Curt looked at her as he held up his hand. It was as if he'd never broken anything.

"I have the skin of Red Guard," he told her. "It takes more than a glass to hurt me. And I am sorry about your professor. It is starting to seem like everyone is missing. If I had taken my sister's offer to be a hero with her, I might be missing, too."

He looked away after he said that. He had always felt somewhat guilty having the power to help these weak people, and doing nothing. Il had never been the type to do nothing. She always had to jump in, with her brother usually trailing behind her. And look at where that had gotten her. Actually, the worst part was that he didn't know where that had gotten her. He assumed she was still alive, though. If anyone had killed a superhero they would have boasted about it by now. Then he realized what Bridget had said? A year?

"Red Guard has only been missing for a few weeks. Maybe a month," he said. Curt turned and eyed the rest of them. "How long have they been missing?"
 
It seemed that heroes had started to go missing a long time before anyone really noticed. Professor White was no weakling, she remembered hearing stories of him before she ever tackled evil in her own way. The fact that he had been missing for a full year was never wracking, but it did explain why he hadn't been appearing as much in the news. It had been rumored that he had gone into silent retirement, just left the game to live out the rest of his days peacefully. Media always wanted to twist things didn't they. It seemed though that if this girl was looking for him, that maybe retirement hadn't been a chosen one...but a forced one.

When the brother of Red guard spoke, she blinked a few times as she thought about it. It seemed this wasn't just an instantaneous thing, but something that had been happening slowly over time. It sort of made sense since her own person had a decent amount of time since their disappearance. Maybe it was a connection, taking out certain people at certain times to avoid too much notice. Even though blazing hot was an A-lister in hero status he didn't really make much of his heroic deeds media huge. He'd just do the job and if he so happened to get into the news then so be it. It was one of the reasons she never ended up in the news herself, Blazing hot just wasn't the type to make a big show of things and she never really cared for media spot light to begin with, she got enough of that at her day job.

"Blazing Hots been gone for over two months. I've been doing a bunch of private searching but I haven't found anything. I even took the time to hit up the local police stations to see if he had dropped off any recent criminals. But there was nothing. No Message, not call...Not even a warning. I'm starting to think that this has been something that's been going on much longer than we originally thought. I mean, Professor White gone for a year? The only reason no one notice was because the news seemed to think he retired and did a report on it a long time ago...But it seems things are different." Clara said as she looked between the two.
 
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