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The Secret Superheroes’ Traveling, (Tea) Drinking, And Debating Society
***
In case you’re having trouble identifying the ‘superheroes’ I’ve included in this story, here’s a list:
Alexander ‘Xander’ Lavelle Harris, Buffy Anne Summers, AKA the Vampire Slayer, Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay are from Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (TV Show, not Comics)
Bruce Wayne, AKA Batman; his adopted son/sidekick Dick Grayson, AKA Nightwing, his protégé Barbara Gordon, AKA Batgirl, and his butler Alfred Pennyworth, former MI-6 Agent are from Batman (Comics/Cartoon mishmash)
Charles Xavier, Logan, AKA The Wolverine, Jean Grey, Scott Summers, AKA Cyclops, Marie AKA Rogue, Warren Worthington III AKA Angel and Dr. Henry ‘Hank’ McCoy, AKA The Beast are from X-Men (Movie/Comics mishmash)
Clark Kent, AKA Superman and his wife Lois Lane are from Superman (Comics/Live Action TV Show mishmash)
Colonel Jonathan ‘Jack’ O’Neill is from Stargate: SG-1
Detective James Joseph Ellison and his partner Blair Sandburg are from The Sentinel
Jarod is from The Pretender
Peter Parker, AKA Spiderman and his wife Mary Jane Parker, AKA M.J. Watson the supermodel are from Spiderman (Comics/Cartoon mishmash)
Richard Foley, AKA Gear and Virgil Hawkins, AKA Static Shock are from Static Shock (Cartoon, not Comics)
***
“Personally, I think you’re doing a fantastic job,” Clark said to Bruce as he watched Warren Worthington III walk away. He sighed at the folly of the man. “Gotham City is flourishing under your protection.”
Charles Xavier pursed his lips and sighed, bringing his cup of tea up to take a sip from it. “Yes, Warren always has been a little too…arrogant for his own good,” he agreed with reluctance.
“Yeah, just because some of us have extraordinary powers doesn’t mean that the rest of world can’t be superheroes,” Peter chimed in from his position attached upside-down to the ceiling.
Bruce Wayne chuckled at the exuberance the young man was putting off. “Well, thank you, Mr. Kent, Professor Xavier…Mr. Parker,” he said graciously, nodding to each in turn. “But I must admit, it’s refreshing to have people think I can’t do my job because I don’t have mutant powers, and not because I’m an intellectual idiot. I sometimes wonder why people don’t realize that you can’t run a Fortune 500 company and have space for rent between your ears.”
Dick Grayson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah; we’ve heard it all before, Bruce,” he groused at his adoptive father and partner in crime-fighting.
Logan snorted and added, “You? An idiot? Pull the other one, Wayne, it plays the Macarena.” He chomped down on his unlit cigar, growling a little at the ‘No Smoking’ signs posted on the walls.
“You think you have it bad?” Jim asked, gesturing towards the shorter man with his coffee cup. “My ‘superpowers’ aren’t even really super, since my senses are just heightened. You could only really call it a genetic advantage, like having a photographic memory or perfect pitch.”
“You think that’s bad?” Dick asked. “I only have my acrobatic abilities to work with. Aside from all of Bruce’s cool gadgets, anyway,” he added with a cheeky grin towards the Dark Knight.
“Nothing wrong with having a genetic advantage,” Jarod added, turning his teacup in his hands. “I myself don’t have any superpowers, either – or even any special physical abilities – just a photographic and eidetic memory. I have to work with my brain.”
“At least people think you have one,” Logan groused. “Can’t tell ya how many times I’ve had to deal with high and mighty muckity-mucks – no offense, Chuck–”
Xavier chuckled lightly. “None taken, Mr. Logan.”
“–who think that having money makes them better’n me,” Logan finished.
“Same here,” Jim added. “First it was the Army, where anyone outside of the service thought it was a job for people who hadn’t graduated high school.”
“You have to have a B.A. to make Colonel in the Air Force; I thought it was the same for all branches of the Service,” Jack O’Neill threw in, one silver brow raised.
“You do – mine’s in Military Strategy,” Jim replied. “And now that I’m a cop, it’s gotten worse. You can’t make Lieutenant without at least an M.A., but I can’t tell you how many civilians take one look at me and think, ‘No-neck moron who spends all day eating donuts.’” He sighed disgustedly. “I’ve actually had a few people say that to my face.”
Snickering, Logan said, “Bet they didn’t say much else once you were through with ‘em, eh, Ellison?”
Detective Jim Ellison frowned sourly. “Most of them – one of them was the former Vice Deputy Mayor. He was in office at the time, so I couldn’t hit him.” He grinned wolfishly. “I arrested him last week for embezzlement and credit card fraud.”
“When will people learn that crime doesn’t pay?” Xavier asked prosaically.
“Probably never,” Xander Harris answered, snagging another cookie from the dessert tray on the table. “There will always bad guys, and as such, there will always be a need for the good guys to be superheroes.” He snorted. “Even if some of us are relegated to the role of ‘Donut Boy.’”
“Yeah, it sucks being the sidekick,” Richie threw in.
Dick frowned. “No, it doesn’t.”
“It does when you’re constantly being told to, ‘Stay in the truck, Sandburg!’” Blair broke in.
Virgil Hawkins’ eyes narrowed at his boyfriend’s words. “Hey, Rich, you aren’t a sidekick – you’re my partner.”
Richie grimaced sourly. “Sure, now. But before my Bang Baby induced genius kicked in, I worked behind the scenes.”
“Alfred works behind the scenes all the time, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an important part of our crime-fighting team,” Dick said firmly.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with working behind the scenes,” Hank McCoy added, pushing his glasses up his nose with one furry blue finger. “We ‘sidekicks’ provide invaluable assistance as hero support. A building is only as sturdy as its foundation; a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Just because we may or may not get out and join in the fray on a regular basis does not mean the help we provide is not needed.” He took a dainty sip of his tea and munched delicately on a macaroon. The fastidiousness with which he approached his repast was almost incongruous with his beastly form, but fit perfectly with his cultured tone of voice and the intelligence sparkling in his unnaturally yellow eyes. One would never suspect the seemingly mild-mannered – and always well-spoken – man of being one of the legendary (and supposedly ‘dangerous,’ at least according to the FOH) X-Men.
“Or appreciated, Hank,” Logan added gruffly, tipping his beer bottle towards his fellow mutant – and friend.
“Exactly,” Jim said, squeezing his lover’s hand. Blair gave him a brilliant smile in return.
At that moment – thankfully interrupting what was about to become an awkwardly sappy moment – the door to their supposedly secret conference room burst open and a flood of women of all ages, shapes and sizes entered the room. A tall blonde led the charge, followed by a short redhead.
“Dickie!” a slim, auburn-haired beauty dressed in tight jeans and a green turtleneck called. She ran over and threw herself into his lap, and was enthusiastically received with a pair of wide-open arms and a deep kiss.
“Hey, Babs,” Dick said once their lips disengaged. He grinned stupidly up at her.
“Hey, sweetie,” she returned, smiling back.
The blonde leader of the group followed in Barbara’s wake and perched herself on the arm of Jim’s chair. “Hi, I’m Buffy Summers!” she said, smiling invitingly at him.
Looking over at the perky young blonde – who had to be half his age, dressed in tight black leather pants and a lavender crop top – Jim said shortly, “I’m taken,” and tilted his head towards his curly-haired partner, who had been dragged off by the young redhead who’d accompanied Buffy into the room – along with another blonde – and was at the moment being interrogated.
Cheerfully taking the rejection in stride, Buffy turned towards Bruce. “How about you, handsome? Any prospects?” She smiled winningly at the billionaire and received a tentative, weak grin in return.
“Nope,” Barbara Gordon said as she settled into Dick’s lap. “Right, sweetie?” she asked him. Receiving a nod of confirmation, she turned back to Buffy, and said playfully, “Brucie’s single, but Dick’s mine, so hands off!”
“Got it, Babs,” Buffy said, before setting down to some serious flirting with the Dark Knight.
Another redhead, looking like she’d stepped straight off a Paris catwalk in a tailored blue dress and matching jacket, sauntered over to Peter and gazed up at him. “Hey, Tiger,” she purred.
Peter gulped and smiled tremulously. “Hey, M.J.,” he managed, almost choking as she grabbed his tie and used it to tug him down from the ceiling and over to a corner of the room.
“I think we need to talk about some secrets you’ve been keeping, Peter,” she chided him.
Clark Kent was busy trying not to laugh. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger – literally, he thought, amused. Then his eyes locked with a professional looking brunette in a gray business suit across the room, and he froze. Speaking of being at a woman’s beck and call… he thought resignedly. Clark coughed to clear his throat and said to the group at large, “Excuse me, I think I need to have a…talk…with my wife,” before getting up and heading towards the young woman in question.
“Good, I see you’ve met the guys,” yet another redhead said, walking up with Scott Summers in tow.
“Jeannie,” Logan said in greeting.
“Jean.” Xavier nodded to her. “It’s good to see you. But I must ask – who are all these women, and what are you doing here?”
A brunette with two white streaks in her hair, wearing a gauzy teal top and tight black jeans – with a matching pair of elbow-length gloves; strange for early autumn – walked up and wrapped herself around Logan. She smirked at his stunned expression. “We’re the Women’s Auxiliary, sugah,” she drawled in answer.
Logan brightened. A hot Marie was better than a hot stogie any day. Suddenly this club meeting didn’t seem so boring after all…
And future ones would definitely be more interesting…