6Issue 2- Final Roster
Saturday, May 21, 1987
Barber Estate
Bergen County, New Jersey
Now this was more like it.
Expert-X followed the liveried servant through the halls of the Barber estate. He knew nothing about art, so he had no idea if the still lives and the portraits that adorned the cream-colored walls were an indicator of good taste or not, but he assumed they were nothing if not expensive.
The surface portion of Franklin Barber's abode was surprisingly small and not lavish. It was located only three blocks or so from the warehouse X had entered yesterday, but if it was not for the security fence and cameras, he might have missed it despite being given the address.
The automated voice which had answered the phone when the Expert had called the phone number this morning at the designated hour of 10AM had surprised him. Not only the fact that it clearly was not human, but that it resembled most closely that of a young boy.
"Please speak the seven-digit ID number included in your packet," the voice had indicated, and X, feeling somewhat foolish, had done so.
The voice repeated the number he had given. "Is that correct?" it asked.
"Yes," he answered.
There was a slight pause.
"Congratulations, Expert-X," the voice said. "You have been selected as a starting member of The Challengers. Please report at 1:45PM this afternoon." The voice then rattled off an address. "The other selected members will be present as well. Please do not attempt to contact any of the other candidates, selected or rejected, at this time. I will inform them personally, to avoid complications. Thank you."
Complications, X had thought wryly. Like Cambion storming the estate to tear it to ribbons for not being selected. Smart move.
The downward slope of the corridor he was now traversing was very slight, and made even less noticeable that the corridor kept turning at right angles, but Expert-X did not need the sensors in his micro-display to tell him that he was now underground. The lack of windows and the slight artificial breeze of central air-conditioning were more than enough evidence. There were occasional doors on either side of the corridor, but the silent servant ignored them all. X followed a few steps behind, wondering which of the colorful characters he had met yesterday would have made the final cut.
Ringlet certainly, he thought. Barber would have to be the biggest fool on Earth not to include her. The Samurai and Aureole as well, in all probability. They had performed admirably in the danger room, and seemed to have stable personalities. Perhaps Harlequin as well. The Expert had kind of liked the so-called magician's easy-going nature. If he proved to be a real team player, X didn't care what Harlequin believed about magic. He'd heard and seen crazier things in his time.
And what about Mightor? Expert-X frowned. Barber seemed set on having him on the team, but the idea of getting accidently tagged by what Mightor had called his "mega-blast" frankly terrified him. Being on the receiving end of Tachyon's radiation burst had been a painful and quite literally nauseating experience. That multicolored beam of Mightor's looked like it could quite easily annihilate any target it struck, paranormal or otherwise.
His further ruminations on the matter were interrupted as the corridor ended in a wide set of stout wooden doors. The servant rapped smartly on them, opened them slightly, stuck his head in, then nodded and withdrew it.
"There you are, sir," he said to X, indicating that he should enter. "Good luck, sir," he added with no real enthusiasm whatsoever as he turned and walked back up the corridor.
Before he could let his nerves get the better of him, the Expert pushed the doors open further and walked in.
The room seemed to be a study of some kind. Two walls were entirely taken up with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stacked with what a quick glance from X's magnifying sensors identified as legal journals. The floor was wood-paneled except for a large Persian rug in front of the room's only desk. Pictures of Franklin Barber with celebrities of the day; Hollywood stars, politicians, superheroes, businessmen and such, adorned the other two walls.
Barber himself, along with Jim Stack and another man X did not recognize were standing behind the desk. All three nodded to the Expert-X as he entered the room.
"Welcome to the team, Expert-X," Barber smiled at him. X was relieved to see that the executive was not smoking at the moment. He smiled back and made the appropriate and expected returns and then looked around.
Ringlet and Harlequin both walked up to the Expert and shook his hand, Harlequin making a false display of being shocked from X's joy buzzers as he did so. The next person to come up to him drew a frown of puzzlement from him before he could stop it.
It was Enigmus, and the shape-shifter did not seem surprised at X's momentary confusion. "Yes, I made it," he simply said, his voice carefully neutral.
Someone suddenly slammed Expert-X on his back and would have sent him stumbling into Enigmus if the latter, having apparently seemed this coming, pushed forward to keep the Expert upright. X swung his head around.
"Like the big boss says, welcome to the team, X!" Mightor boomed in his loud, cheery voice before reaching around, grabbing the Expert's hand and shaking it vigorously. "Glad to have you on board!"
X watched as Mightor strode over to a leather-bound plush armchair and sprawled down in it like a bored teenaged-boy, legs spread wide and arms askew. "Here comes the orientation spiel."
James Stack looked more than a little annoyed (He also looked, now that X could see him close up, more muscular and fit than most lawyers did, in his experience). The attorney turned his attention to the Expert.
"Thank you for accepting, Expert-X," he said. "You of course know Mr. Barber, and this is the Executive Secretary of Challengers, Inc, Paul Hansen."
The two men shook hands.
"Is this it?" X asked. "The final roster?"
Hansen nodded. "Doublestar will be joining the team as well- he's currently busy, but we'll brief him later- but yes, this is it."
Expert-X couldn't help but frown, the questions in his brain struggling to form into words, but he kept his mouth shut.
Stack went through the preliminary details, describing how the team's base in Greenwich Village would be completed in approximately two weeks, and the Challengers would officially begin operations several days after that.
Begin operations, X thought. God, how corporate-sounding can you get? I'm pretty sure Space Ghost or the Herculoids Herculoidsnever 'began operations.' This sounds worse the more I hear of it, yet I doubt it's much better back at the SuperCenter.
Yet the Expert had to admit to himself that he just didn't know if he had the balls to go it alone. He'd told himself he would if it came to that and yet-
The voice of Harlequin interrupted his thoughts.
"So who are you appointing as Team Leader?" he asked. "Doublestar?"
Barber smiled. "Not at all. That would provide the appearance of impropriety. Doublestar will merely be another member of your team. He will receive no additional perks or consideration whatsoever."
Bullshit, Expert-X said to himself, and was pretty sure he could read an identical thought in Harlequin's face. Mightor seemed either lost in thought or completely lacking in any. X turned to catch the reactions of Enigmus and Ringlet and was startled to just catch the sight of the latter pulling her hand away from that of Enigmus and take a step away from him. Before he could grasp the meaning of this action though, Harlequin spoke up again.
"Appoint? I was actually joking, Mr. Barber. ren't we going to select our Team Leader ourselves by popular vote? That was kind of implied to me yesterday."
Barber was unable to hide his discomfort. He looked over to Stack, who cleared his throat and turned to the magician.
"That was not explicitly stated in the contract, Mr. Harlequin. Self-determination was one of the options we were considering, but after a careful review of all the information supplied to us in your applications, we believe it would be best to select the team's first leader by appointment."
"Enigmus will be your Team Leader," said Paul Hansen.
While these words still hung in the air, X glanced again to his left. While Enigmus stared defiantly back at him, he saw Annulet Masso blush and turn her eyes downward.
And then it hit him.
Jesus Christ, she and Enigmus are an item! That's why he made the cut even after he killed two holo-civilians in the danger room! Annulet's the one Barber really wants; she must have threatened to refuse unless her boyfriend came with the deal and was made leader!
The Expert shook his head in disgust. Nothing ever changes. I am out of here.
"Mr. Barber," X began. "I really don't think this is the right-"
"That's a Persian rug, isn't it?"
Every eye except a marbled one blinked.
If it hadn't so obviously been Mightor's voice, no one present would have believed it had been the TV hero who had spoken. He still sat slumped in his chair; gaze focused on the rug, but his mind, whatever that consisted of, clearly somewhere else.
"Umm, yes," Barber responded, confusion evident in his voice. "It is. Custom-made too, I might add," he finished with a note of pride
"I know," Mightor responded. "It's from the north of Iran. They use child labor to make those, you know. The best rugs require weaves so small only children can tie the knots needed. They toil in terrible conditions. No better than child slavery."
The silence that followed was so absolute X was certain that everyone had stopped breathing.
It was Jim Stack who recovered first.
"You surprise me, Mr. Mightor. How exactly do you know that?"
Mightor looked up at him, his eyes still only partially seeing. The expression on his face however, held none of its earlier levity.
"There's one in my da-"
He caught himself short.
It was blatantly obviously to the entire assemblage that Mightor was struggling to some lie to say. He eventually gave up, mumbling something about having seen a documentary on them on TV and fell silent.
X thought furiously. Had Mightor been about to say, "dad's?" That didn't make sense. It was very hard to judge Mightor's age, especially with that mask, but the Expert thought he was too old to use the word "dad." Besides, who was Mightor's father? If Hanna-Barbera was any guide, he'd be some old man of the Cave People in some far-off dimension. Not too many primitives sported Persian rugs in their caves, he guessed. But if wasn't "dad," what had he been about to say?
There was one thing that was certain, however. There was much more to this "Mightor" than met the eye.
"I'm just trying to do some good in this world, Mr. Mightor," began Franklin Barber. "Perhaps if-"
He was interrupted by an artificial voice which emanated from the intercom on his desk.
"Excuse me for interrupting," the young male voice that X had heard on the phone earlier said, "but there is a private telephone call for Mr. Stack in the media room."
"Thank you, Poindexter," the attorney replied before turning to his boss. "Frank, Paul. I'll see you in the dining room. Frank, don't forget to look at that dossier on the Hanna-Barbera situation I gave you. Gentlemen, Miss Masso," he nodded at the others before striding from the room.
"Is that an Artificial Intelligence I'm hearing?" Expert-X asked, his own scientific curiosity overriding his earlier determination to just get the hell out of here, at least for a few moments.
"Yes, it is," replied Barber. "I've always been fascinated by AIs. In fact, I'm hoping to raise some capital for certain corporations to increase their AI research funding. I'm hoping to bring AIs into the mainstream within a decade."
"Most ambitious," said Ringlet, who sounded as if she neither believed in nor desired such a goal.
"But that voice?" X couldn't help but ask. "And that name? Poindexter? What gives?"
Barber chuckled. "During the construction phase, I overheard of one the project's contract workers mentioning he had an infant son named Poindexter. Couldn't help feeling sorry for the kid. He'll probably be in therapy for years. But then I couldn't help thinking of myself at about ten or eleven. I was skinny- believe it or not- gangly, awkward as hell, and my voice changing sounded like Peter Brady."
The Expert smiled. "So you, at least, did watch TV."
"Of course. Stack's kind of an odd bird in that aspect. I haven't known him long, but I think he grew up in Asia, in a rural village. Military family, something like that." Barber waved that away. "In any case, I decided to make my AI personality rather geekish, just to remind me where I came from."
"So you are not married, Messier Barber?" asked Ringlet. "No children?"
Barber chuckled again, but now there was a ring of sadness to it. "I was engaged once, but I was young then. Still thin-"
He paused.
"Still poor. Her family wouldn't have it."
The executive shrugged and gestured at the intricate designs of the Persian carpet at their feet.
"Now of course, I have all the worldly goods any man could want. Some might even say and then some," he added with a nod towards Mightor, who did not respond, seeming to be once again lost in his private thoughts.
"But what I am not is a fool, gentlemen. Look at me. Any woman who shows an interest in me is interested only in my money."
He made a wry face.
"Like the Eagles say, every form of refuge has its price. But enough of that. You're not interested in a millionaire's sob stories, I dare say. Mr. Hansen here will show you to the dining room. I've got quite a lunch spread laid out for you. I'll join you there as soon as I have a smoke."
Paul gestured and the others made to follow, although Harlequin did have to tap Mightor on the shoulder to get his attention.
X decided he'd make his decision about quitting after a good meal. It certainly sounded better than the Kraft Macaroni and Cheese awaiting him back at his apartment.
As they started down the corridor however, he found Enigmus had come up to walk directly beside him.
"You're not happy about this, are you?" he said. A statement, not a question, and spoken softly enough for no one else to hear.
"Super-perception one of your powers, too?" the Expert replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "If I wanted nepotism, politics and corporate crap, I'd have stayed with the Champions."
Enigmus smiled, not taking offense. "The New Champions, you mean. The old-style teams are gone, X, like it or not. Don't blame you for not liking what you see. I wouldn't either. But I'll ask you the same think Barber asked Stack; wouldn't you rather be on the inside of this thing looking out, than the reverse?"
Expert-X stared at him.
"Is that an offer or a threat?" he asked, but Enigmus had already moved on.