“Hey, I know you!”

Elliot jerked awake, blinking to clear the drowsiness from his eyes as he straightened up.  He'd been slumped over so long that his back ached, and on the hand that he'd been resting his chin in there seemed to be a sticky liquid.  In front of him stood a twelve-year-old kid wearing a whole heap of Cape  merchandise.  As he ran his eyes over it, Elliot could make our a number of signatures, but he paid the greatest attention to the boy's look of intense thought.

A mysterious, captivating smile appeared on Elliot's face, and he crossed his arms as he turned a quarter-circle to the side.  [color=8F9779]“You do, do you?  Of course—you seem the studious, perceptive type.  Your vestments identify you as a true, perhaps even fanatical, supporter of heroism.  I'll wager you wait with bated breath when word gets out of some ne'er-do-well causing a ruckus, flipping through channels to see which hero answers duty's call.  Am I right?”[/color]  The youngster nodded, though is pensive expression did not lessen.  [color=8F9779]“So then, who is it that beams down at you from atop righteousness's holy dias?”[/color]

The kid clapped his hands together, his eyebrows knit together in determined realization.  “You're that super-dork that's full of himself and plays with toys, Marbleguv!”

A few seconds of silence passed as the dull-eyed antihero stared at the child from atop his stool, overlooking the plastic table that lay before him, adorned with a fastidiously-organized pile of pictures of himself posing.  At length, Elliot replied in a clipped voice, [color=8F9779]“...You must have me mistaken.  I am...Margrave.  THE Margrave.  And I do not play with toys; I resize and reconstitute all manner of objects, applying them with ingenious wit to make the most of every situation!  Look, it says here!”[/color]  Elliot produced a black card with the exact tagline he just recited emblazoned on its surface in silver, alongside an image of his face with his hand held in front of it.  [color=8F9779]“How d'you like that?  The first in my new series of hand-made collectible cards!”[/color]

The boy did not take the card.  Nor did he bother masking his disinterested expression.  “Ookay.”  He put his hands in his pockets and turned to walk away.  “Uh, sorry, but that's pretty lame.  If you could make action figures, that'd be cool, but...uh, bye!”

Taking a deep breath, Elliot leaned back in his stool, though he managed to stop himself before getting to the point where he'd fall over backwards.  As fun as potentially knocking himself out sounded right now, he felt like a quick rendezvous with the ground would not give him the jolt of energy he needed to get through today.  Instead, he placed a palm against the back of his neck, angling his elbow outward, and turned his closed eyes up to the ceiling in a pose suggesting admirability.  [color=8F9779]“I'm counting that.  Heheh.  Always nice to be recognized!”[/color] he told himself, his tone very satisfied.  [color=8F9779]“Hour and a half and I already got one visitor.  Everything's turning up Margrave!”[/color]

His expression soured six seconds later.  In fact, it went from gregarious to glacial.  Elliot considered putting his hood on and trying to go back to sleep, but with the hubbub that had swollen throughout the event center he doubted he'd be able to.  [color=8F9779]“Why am I here?”[/color] he half-mumbled, half-growled.  [color=8F9779]“Spotlight's no place for...anti-heroes...”[/color]  Shutting his eyes, he tried to tune out the noise.  To his left, where the other Wards and their booths were, he could hear a new and different voice, but he paid it no attention.  The others -especially Tiger Lily, who he now felt ashamed of looking down on- had been getting fans nonstop, so nothing remarkable demanded his attention.  His own station was only about a booth-and-a-half away from where the others were arrayed, but that combined with his lack of costume seemed to be deterring pretty much anyone from coming over.  [i]Yeah, I'm sure those are the only reasons,[/i] he thought, grim-faced.  Did they even realize he was one of them?  It had been his intention to set himself up as something separate, to avoid falling under their brand and to escape the commercialized 'hero' image that now held them, but now that seemed liked a bad idea.  [i]Whatever.  I don't need the attention anyway.  In fact, of not for being required to be here as one of the Wards, I wouldn't be here.  I'm not missing out on a single thing.[/i]  He put his head in his hand again, though not as part of an elaborate pose, for once.