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King Kindred
Geraldo
Shadowheart
AmongHeroes
Oso
Archangel89E P I S O D E S E V E N : A N T I T H E S I S
GALA NEMESIS
M O U N T J U S T I C E
October 22nd-24th, 2021 | 18:34pm. | ???
As zany and uncanny some of the introductions were within the hangar, introductions were made and baselines were established amongst the Team and their plus one. Tensions were high, yet contained as the group entered the aircraft.
A spherical structure with a raised tower in the center appeared below the jet. It was painted gold and white. Ocean’s timepiece, nestled in unknown waters. It was the kind of architecture that existed solely to remind people that money could become religion if enough people worshiped it.
Music drifted faintly from inside the structure, strings layered over low electronic ambience, polished enough to disappear beneath conversation. Valets in pressed black uniforms moved like clockwork between arriving vehicles, welcoming guests who stepped out in satin, velvet, silk, and tailored suits worth more than most people earned in a year. They were led across the bridge to the main entrance.
Masks hid faces, not identities. Security was subtle. No visible guards patrolling the entrance. No metal detectors. No obvious screening process, but cameras tracked every angle.Facial recognition hidden inside decorative fixtures. Thermal sensors embedded in polished marble pillars.The kind of security that didn’t need to announce itself because it had already catalogued everyone entering.
The invitation list tonight was impossible. That alone was enough to make the entire event feel wrong. Multiple organizations and rival factions. Groups that rarely shared territory, let alone attended the same event. No open gang warfare, no visible hostility. Just expensive smiles and carefully measured distance. The ballroom itself opened beneath a ceiling of suspended crystal lights, cascading downward in soft golden reflections. Massive chandeliers glimmered overhead. Strings performed from a raised balcony overlooking the crowd while servers navigated through the room carrying silver trays of champagne and untouched luxury.
Clusters of guests gathered in quiet circles. Deals happened in fragments. Threats disguised as humor. Beneath the polished atmosphere sat something harder to define. Expectation. As though everyone present knew tonight mattered. As though something had not happened yet. The room itself naturally divided. Certain guests occupied the center. Others preferred shadows and watched.
Near the grand staircase stood Mercy Graves
Perfect posture. Immaculate black dress beneath a fitted coat that looked elegant enough to pass unnoticed while somehow still resembling armor. She never lingered in conversation for long. Guests approached her. Rarely the opposite.
Every few minutes she checked a discreet earpiece hidden beneath dark hair, her expression never shifting beyond polite neutrality. She wasn’t here to socialize, she was here to monitor. And despite the room full of dangerous people, there was a subtle distance around her, the kind born from reputation rather than authority.People gave Mercy space. Even villains respected consequences.
A figure leaned alone near the balcony rail overlooking the lower floor.
Cheshire
Relaxed. Almost bored. One gloved hand wrapped around a glass she barely drank from. She watched the crowd the way predators watched open fields.Not hunting, but waiting.
Her mask sat partially angled, enough to obscure identity without hiding expression.
Unlike most guests, she appeared completely unaffected by the grandeur around her. No effort to mingle. No attempt to impress. Just observation. And occasionally, her gaze settled on specific people long enough to suggest recognition, or calculation.
The bar area held a louder energy than the rest of the ballroom.
Near the far side stood Mammoth, impossible to miss despite the formal setting.
A tailored suit strained visibly against his frame, collar slightly loosened, posture lacking the refinement surrounding him. Beside him, Shimmer looked far more composed, elegant but restless, scanning the room with sharp attention.
They didn’t blend into the gala and didn’t appear interested in trying either. Mammoth laughed too loudly. Shimmer corrected him under her breath.Their conversation occasionally drifted louder than intended, fragments carrying through nearby guests. Names. References to transport schedules.Mention of someone arriving late. The sort of information careless people revealed when they assumed nobody nearby mattered.
At the edge of one of the quieter lounges sat an older man surrounded by people who orbited around him, but never too close.
Alton Carver
Gray-haired. Perfectly at ease in stillness.He looked less like an assassin and more like a retired aristocrat attending an opera. Yet guests approached him with visible respect. Conversations remained short, polite and controlled. No one interrupted him or lingered too long.The people leaving his table always looked thoughtful afterward. A silver cane rested near his chair, unused, possibly for decoration.
Closer to the dance floor stood the easiest smiles in the room.
Golden Glider floated between conversations effortlessly, champagne in hand, moving through social circles with practiced familiarity. Dressed in gold from head to toe, just to be loud and obvious. Beside her, Abra Kadabra looked perfectly at home among the excess. Flashy and confident. Much like Zatara's older and evil counterpart. The pair gathered attention naturally. Laughter followed them and rumors followed them more. If anyone in the room knew secrets simply from listening, it was likely them. They moved between groups too easily not to hear everything.
Elsewhere there were absences. Figures not yet visible. Doors that remained closed. Security personnel stationed too carefully near certain hallways. A private upper balcony remained inaccessible. Something about tonight felt staged. People were here for a reason. The gala was only the surface. The real event had not started yet.
