[b]Sonja Simpson[/b]

"Wait, I know you," Sonja said to the newcomer. "You're Hot Rod, right? Out of Texas? I think I saw you at the induction ceremony." She put aside the legendary (to Missourians, at least) rivalry between Missouri and Texas long enough to give the man a warm handshake. "Nice to meet you! Sonja Simpson. The Spirit of St. Louis, if we're being official. But we're all off the clock at the moment, right? Hey, tell the bartender you just got into the League, he'll give you a drink on me."

She laughed off the question about her and Volt. "No, not a date. Just getting to know my teammates." She patted the empty barstool next to her with an inviting smile. "Join the fun!"

[b]Sixgun[/b]

"Padre, can you make it louder?" 

"The usual phrase is 'turn the volume up', Ben," the priest observed as he fiddled with the remote control. The Phoenix news station came through louder as the anchors excitedly reported on the events in Chicago. Hostages freed from a bank and a shopping mall, several dangerous supervillains behind bars, the League more than doubled in size. Ben Brady, formerly known as Ben Black, watched with interest. Though the idea of seeing and hearing people in Chicago even as they spoke confused him a little, television was one thing he had readily adapted to. It was good to know what was going on in the world.

"A lot of the lawmen down at the saloon were wagging chins about this," Ben said reflectively. "Wasn't sure, myself. But this might be a force for good in the world, Padre."

Father Julio Ochoa, handsome and dignified with a touch of gray at the temples, arched a single eyebrow at Ben. In lieu of ever throwing a punch, that single arched eyebrow was Ochoa's best move, capable of stopping most men in their tracks. "Or it might be an ego-driven publicity exercise."

"Even if it is, Padre, they still did some good today. Folk in that bank or that big ol' general store wouldn't alive if not for this here League," Ben pointed out. "Might be worth checking out. I tell you what, I'm going to get tickets on the next train to Chicago and look into joinin' up."

"The next train?" Father Ochoa asked. "Wouldn't it be better to take a plane?"

"If God intended man to fly, He would have given us wings, Padre," Ben said. "Trains I know. Rode on plenty, robbed my share of them. Train it is." 

"Just don't rob this one, Ben."

"Those days are behind me Padre," he said as he hauled out a suitcase. "Got to look forwards now."