by Grimm, T5, GoozX and thedoctor
As the weary heroes trudged back to their apartment complex, they heard the sounds of the party still in full swing.
"Hey, looks like I can still get some fun in after all!" Dirk Bell exclaimed, swaggering up to the door and disappearing inside.
As the others made their way in, the crowd paused to take in the newcomers.
Sam Dawson, in full party mode, jumped up on a nearby table and exclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, fresh from their tour of Uruguay, the Amazing Sardella Brothers!"
The crowd erupted in applause, including Bhaghhh-rupth, lord of the flies and of the rotten land.
"Oh, great," Grimm muttered under his breath, "what have I gotten myself into?" Quietly, he slipped off to the side, searching for a dark place to sit and think.
Naecken went straight to his room for some serious healing and meditation. His arm was burning, and he felt like he would strike anyone that talked to him. It was best if he relaxed and got his senses under control.
That was when he noticed the dark creature sitting on his bed. It looked like a cross between him and a female cat, but smooth.
She smiled. "Don't be alarmed. I'm here in your best interests. Take a look under your bed; you will need it later. I guess I will be seeing you again... when you save me."
And then she was gone.
He looked under the bed and saw a huge, black hammer and two wide, silvery wrist bands. He put on the bands and lifted the huge black hammer. It had great power, with which he was now entrusted, by someone he would save.
The headache began again. It was almost as bad as his arm, burning.
Sam was happy; his party was going great. He was also a little drunk, but that didn't matter, not any more. Time had changed him. For the better? Maybe.
A hand grabbed his arm and spun him around. Before he saw who it was, his lips were met by another's. After a few moments, he opened his eyes. In front of him was Jamie, the girl from earlier today.
"Come, hun. Time to show you a real party!" She pulled him through the staircase and began kissing him fiercely. As the doors closed, the elevator beeped and opened. Michelle Campbell walked out, a saddened look on her face.
Taking a few steps into the room, she finally located Clark Thomas, who was now very drunk.
"Hey, babe," he began, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close.
She backed away a little bit. "Not here..."
"Fine," he said, visibly upset and frustrated. "This is about Sam, isn't it?"
"What? What are you talking--?"
"You don't want to be close because Sam might see us." As he finished, he pointed his hand toward her, beer spilling out of his glass onto her shirt. "That's the truth, isn't it?"
"No, it's not that, it's, I..."
"Tell me you're over him. Tell me that you don't still have feelings for him!" Clark's tone was loud, and people had begun to crowd around the two.
"This is not the place for this."
"Just answer the question!"
After a pause, she answered, "I can't do that. I--"
"Just as I thought." He held the glass to his forehead for a second and then threw it against the far wall, shattering it and leaving a wet mark across the wall. She jumped back a step, not used to seeing this side of him. "I loved you. I did."
Michelle was still silent. She turned her head to the side, not able to tell him what he wanted to hear.
"Fine. I'm out of here."
Clark turned and left the apartment complex. Walking across the yard, he almost fell to the floor. Barely able to see straight, he got up and moved forward. Falling back to his knees, he threw up.
That's when a light caught his eye; actually, two headlights. A '69 Mustang pulled toward him, skidding to a stop just feet from him. A cigarette was thrown from the driver's seat, and two figures emerged from the back seat, one large man and a tall black woman, both in leather.
A male voice, deep and confident came from the front seat. "Bring him in. Don't do too much damage to the body."
The large man grabbed Clark by his neck, and the female looked into his eyes. "Cute." Her eyes then turned into a hue of red, and she smiled, revealing fangs. She bit into Clark's neck. He was too out of it to cry for help or even to yell.
The party became boring really fast. But that's just how Dirk's personality was. He quickly lost interest in things if he wasn't wholly in control. He decided that he might spend a little more time getting to know the lay of the land, so to speak.
The fight in Uruguay had told him something about the crew he was now running with. It was a good thing that he showed up when he did. There was no telling how long they had been running around like a bunch of damned monkeys while trying to pretend to be metaheroes. Well, at least I've got time to train them, he thought to himself. He decided that it was time to unpack.
After a floor-by-floor search and kicking in many doors, but never saying he was sorry, Dirk finally found his duffel bag in a room on the eighth floor. He retrieved his crate and began to store his goodies away. Laid out on the bed were many makes of guns, some of which hadn't been seen outside of highly classified organizations. Each Dirk knew by heart, and each had a special place of its own when it was put up. He made sure that the safeties were engaged on each, with the more exotic and deadly weapons having more elaborate mechanisms.
Out of his duffel bag came a jacket with a large logo that covered the entire back. "How in the hell did that get in there?" he said as it fell to the floor behind him. The jacket was from his last job, and the logo was the symbol for the group he worked for. It wasn't something that he would have packed consciously. After about an hour or two, everything was stored away.
"Now," Dirk said as he lit a cigar, "it's time to check out the rest of the Super Friends." He walked back down to the party in an attempt to discover who and what he was involved with.