"You've done well in supposing otherwise," Ray mocked a chivalrous tone. But a sly smile crept across his face before he spoke a special sort of sentence, the kind of outright defiance that created the rebellious teenage stereotype long ago. "We don't have it, but we do have something better." He waved his hand over at their winged associate.

"It'd be great if you would pass me a Pepsi though," he rested his hand on his chest. Mimicking a junkie, he quivered his voice and trembled his every muscle "Could really use somethin' to take the edge off... if you know what I'm sayin'."

"The name's Raymond, I go by Time Bomb." He shrugged, "But you can call me Ray." Then, to no one in particular, "Does anyone know what can clean bulletproof vests? There's this stain on my emblem and I can't get it off. I don't want it to look like there's blood on my logo."

[I]It's just spaghetti sauce. Could get a great bit for my reputation if any of the bad guys saw it though.[/I] Looking at all the people surrounding him and recalling those in his vicinty, he summised that a reputation would be all of an advantage he'd really have unless some of the higher powered members fought with their brains instead of brawn. [I]Then I'd have nothing.[/I]