Puss In Boots and Pants and Boots and Pants and...

<November 12, 2014>: The Titans and Kate go clubbin'. Things go as you would expect…

A transient rave
It's noisy



  • Various club dwellers

Mood Music:

There's a number of trendy but transient 'clubs' in the Metropolis Upper Crust Area. Upper Crust means, mostly, that the 'party organizers' will find places near the rich and wanna-rich kids (where kids may mean up to age 32, in the world of too much money) and then set up dances, raves, mixers, and other kinds of loud flashy noisy entertainment where they can be relatively safe from the actual criminal element, at least, the criminal element that isn't part of their own culture.

"Gar Logan," the green guy says to the enormous clearly-chemically-enhanced guard at the door. "And guests."

The guy shrugs, and nods forward. The kid's clearly a meta or he has excellent makeup, either of which is a guaranteed entree to this fete. Oh yeah, and the entrance fee. Gar hands him a roll of cash containing the proper amound, and the guy unrolls, fans it, and rerolls it. And pockets it.

Inside the circus tent (sans circus) there is the traditional chaos of lights, lasers, and a bone-thumping bone-thump beat. There may also be oonz oonz but that's getting kind of passe' so there's probably something more counter-rhythmic with the same effect.

"The smell … whoof. Why did I think this was a thing again??" Gar says to himself.

Keith decided to leave the Cheshire on for this particular outing. Mostly because he figured he needed more exposure as Vorpal outside of stopping crooks. Not having a secret identity means you can wear whatever (or whomever) you want, really, your wardrobe was your oyster.

"How much exactly did you pay the doorman, hon?" he asks, all smiles as he grabs Gar's arm with his own. Cunning use of cuteness— Gar probably knows that if he ever tells Keith, he will insist on paying it back. It's probably why Keith hasn't found out the cost of much of anything for the past few months really.

"Thank goodness I can't smell as well as you, heh. Though I admit… the lasers are… intriguing." His eyes flicker back and forth, following the lights. "Hmmmmm…"

His tail thumps, and he has to resist the urge to jump and start chasing the little dot that appears here and there. That would be… bad.

Bunker left his mask on as well because, technically, he was under-age here in the USA. In Mexico, he's been able to drink legally for several months. The music is getting to him as well, nad he moves his shoulders and matches pace to the beat surrounding them.

Kate knows her way around clubs. New York is more her usual grounds, but she's been to a few of the nicer places in Metropolis, too. She's settled on a sparkly silver number that's a little more classy than the one she used undercover with Clint, and fits right in with the rich kids spending their parents money crowd. She actually looks more out of place with the Titans than she would with the others. "It's not something people do sober," she calls to the others, amused. "Says something that you have to be compromised to enjoy it, though."

"Yeah, I don't come to this for the drinks. Way too much ROOF, hands in the air like you aren't aware. My cousin's in the band that's supposed to come on tonight. I promised him I'd show up."

Gar finds himself unconsciously twitching to the beat. At least he didn't wear the gold neck chains, even if he did find his dark red silk club shirt. And purple chinos, where do you find purple chinos?

"Man, why does it smell like burning shoes in here?"

"I thought it smelled more like that smell Raven leaves when she teleports," Vorpal grins. He's wearing a rather odd type of turtleneck- wide neck, no sleeves, in black. It sort of defeats the purple of a turtleneck, because what the hell? Is it winter in your body but summer on your arms? When you're covered in fur, though, you can get away with something like that. Black boots and slacks (with a hole for the tail) match the rest of the ensemble.

"Geez… I haven't been to a club in… six years." The one he bounces for doesn't count- he doesn't go in there except for work related stuff. "I don't think I even remember how to dance." He looks at Gar, and then at Bunker twitching, and smirks at Kate. "How about you, do archers dance?"

Yeah, because purple is where it's at; Bunker gets some attention even here in the skintight purple jumpsuit, and returns smiles, high-fives, and the like as they move through the crowd. "Amazing, Gar," he says, turning, looking around, obviously rubbernecking. Mexican clubs are just as big, bright and loud, and such but this is.. something different, indeed. He takes a long sniff and shakes his head. "Not that I can tell…?" he says, wrinkkling his nose.

"What a silly question," Kate smirks back at Vorpal. "I do everything well." She winks, waving to someone over at one corner of the floor. Of course there are people she knows here. "I didn't realize you had cousins," she says to Gar. "I don't know why I assumed there wouldn't be."

The music track is brought to something resembling a conclusion, if 'looped thumping' can be said to have a proper conclusion, and the DJ — yes, one of those people in a costume that would make a supervillain blush, in a chicken-wire-protected booth hanging from the center pole of the tent — calls out to the crowd, with a strangely and deliberately echoing double-voice effect, "Tonight, Tonight, people tonight, people we are proud tonight, tonight proud tonight, to bring you you bring the ADVERB SHORTAGE. (shortage)."

The music does a strange segue thing, then turns into something that would really like to be the rhythms from the top four prog-rock songs, but they haven't grown up yet. Lasers do some swinging around, a sort of rush to the middle happens, and someone starts screaming an anthem to the youth of tomorrow, but in order to really know what they're saying, you have to turn down the feedback on the mike and make them stop with the heavy metal mushmouth. The lead guitar and the cellist are damn good though.

"Yeah!" Gar answers. "He's on teh DRUMS"

And apparently part of the cause of the overdriven vocal mixture. The DJ is doing things to try to make it sound better, but folks: this is a tent.

Still, it's edgy in its way, and has more energy than half the people here.

Gar frowns. "Vorp. I gotta check something. That smell!"

A very large green great dane with a purple collar starts sniffing through the crowd, shoving people aside with the Cold Nose of Justice.

"Alright," Vorpal says as Garfy Doo goes on his way, "But you call me if there's something wrong…"

He grins at Bunker getting recognized. There's some people looking his way, too, but he tries not to notice. "Oh, can you? Care to show us? Show me your moves, girl!" the Cheshire grins, and then looks at one of the people mixing drinks. "One sec… I need to slosh up for this."

He orders a vegetarian alcohol-free mint tea drink, because he doesn't want to get drunk, but he does want to have the feel of a drink in his hand. Returning to Kate and Bunker, the cheshire reaches over and puts an arm around Bunker's waist and starts to dance, grinning at Kate. "Bunker and me versus you, Kate, think you can win?" he takes a sip from his drink.

Hmmm, it tastes good…

Bunker flashes a smile as he signs a quick autograph and then he's pulled away against Keith. He nods and starts to move in time with the music. "Where's Gar off to?" he says, not missing a beat, turning and then scattering some small brick constructs about, which start to click and thump in time with the music as well, forming a backdrop to his and Keith's dancing. "Yeah, come on," he grins at Kate.

Kate does a bit of a double-take when Gar makes the fast change, watching him go sniffing off. "I do not want to think about what he's smelling right now," she shakes her head ruefully before looking back to Vorpal and Bunker. "I feel like I'm supposed to be saying something like bring it on," she laughs, though she starts to move with the music as well. At the same time, though, she's turning, getting a good look at the place. Old habits die hard, after all.


Someone shrieks and jumps. Cold nose. The mosh pit seems to be … ah, there we go. Gar makes that noise that bloodhounds make when they have the scent. It blends into "FIIIIIIIYYYYYYYYYRRRRRRuh" perfectly. There's a commotion near the pit, and the band goes into their next song and they're covering Miike Snow, but doing something weird to it.


Gar stands up as a 15 foot tall gorilla, and pulls a "decorative" sfx pot out of the ground. It's yellow and glowing and there's smoke coming out of it, and one or two of the people close to Gar seem to be thrashing harder than usual; he picks them up under a second pair of arms.

"STEP ASIDE!" he roars at the guy who tries to belly slam him. Seriously. Five foot seven inch 160 pounds vs. a 15 foot tall gorilla. You know what's going to happen.

Gar makes his way back to where the Titans were.

"These. There's more of 'em. Exobit Pods. Leaking."

Exobits? You remember those? Obsolete power-archiving technology from Star Labs?

"Exobit pods?" Vorpal blinks. He clearly is not up to date on some things- "Whatssat for?" He lets go of Bunker to take a look at what Gar had.

As an aside, that drink was delicious. He's sipping it like there's no tomorrow. Hmmm. Who knew mint could taste that good? It was as if-

Wait a minute. He looks down at the drink and takes a wiff…

Catnip. So maybe the lasers weren't getting blurry as an effect. "What's an Exbosit?"

"Yeah, what is that?" Bunker says, even as he forms up a cnotasiner for the smouldering pot from glowing purple bricks, thes whole thing with a lid that he can minupulate as well. "Stash that in here. Like, how many of these things are there…"?"

"A what who now?" Kate echoes curiously at Gar's exclamation. The dancing trails off, and she crosses her arms loosely over her chest, clearly missing her bow. "I seriously need some sort of bag of holding for a bow. If you guys are thinking Christmas presents at any point."

"Hork!" one of the two guys (aforementioned, Gar is carrying under spare arms, as he hasn't had enough time playing Martian Ape even though the real Martian Apes were actually not real except in that John Carter pocket-universe-protrusion… nevermind) proclaims, displaying his lunch proudly to the garbage can.

Note, this is not a difference between the monied and under-monied classes; this guy just has practice horking into garbage cans rather than on pretty girls who would beat him up.

The other guy is glowing. "I don't feel good," he buzzes.

"Aww crumb. He's gonna have an origin. Kate, Vorp, can you handle these two, while I find out if those other two yellow smokepots are also exobits? Bunker, keep that smoke from getting out."

He drops the glowing guy, and sets the other guy into "guard" position over the garbage can, and then he's a … bird? No, just briefly so he can become something that flies but has a sense of smell. He's a weird big dragonfly … the lasers make him look like a hallucination as the band sings on, "HIDE IN THIS PLACE BUT I'M STILL I'M STILL AN AN. I. MULLL!"

As covers go, it's going. But it's not gone yet.

The Cheshire frowns and then looks at Kate. "What's an exo— origin sto… GAR MAKE SENSE PLEAS-" and off his boyfriend goes, to check if those things are…

"Um… sir, are you okay?" Vorpal asks the man who is glowing, as you do. In truth, he wasn't feeling all that well from that drink. He kept thinking silly things.

The Cait was grinning inside. And it was a sort of a goofy grin. "You look… a little bit like… a lightstick!"

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Kate shakes her head to Vorpal, keeping her arms crossed over her chest as she keeps an eye on the pukers. Catching sight of Vorpal's expression, she steps forward and reaches out to try to take the drink from the Cheshire. "I think maybe you've had enough of this…"

"Oh waow. Hi Kate!" the glowing guy says. Yeah. Someone she may have met once, at a party like this one but without the weird smoking pods of energy, and he certainly wasn't glowing then. As the lasers flash around the ones that cross his skin leave behind differently-colored glows. Other than that he looks healthy enough, really. Radiant even. But when Vorpal says "lightstick" he notices.

"Hey! Awesome!" and he starts doing a weird swirly sort of dance that all the appropriately drugged people find fascinating.

Gar lands in the music cage and says something to the drummer, who manages not to miss a beat, which may speak more to the keyboard supporting with rhythm backfill than to his concentration. A moment later he's a gorilla again, bringing another yellow SFX pod with him, adding it to Bunker's stash.

"One more. Watch out for the gas, it's still got some active nanobytes carrying random power codons," Gar says. "We can get them back to Star Labs when I get the last one!"

Meanwhile one of the organizers is getting a bit unhappy that the green guy is stealing his salvaged effects canisters.

"Does anything he says makes sense?" Vorpal asks, frowning, and then he stares at the twirling glowstick man, completely enraptured. He doesn't even notice when Kate takes his drink away…

"Oh… wow… that's so… beautiful!" There are lasers that pass over as well, and soon Vorpal is wandering away in a half-jump, half skip, chasing something, "One sec, Kate, I've got… to… catch… this… "

And he's lost in the crowd. But not for long…

"Not even a little bit," Kate shakes her head to Vorpal's question, peering after Gar. "I'm guessing contact is bad. Oh. Hey, Chad," she smiles weakly at glowstick boy, even as she dumps what's left of Vorpal's drink into the trash along with the mess. "Vorpal! You can't catch laser- Oh, good grief," she mutters, clapping a hand over her face.

They're all named Chad. It's short for something so coarsely anglo-saxon that it tears the throat out to speak it aloud.

Gar comes back carrying the third yellow (slightly smoking) pod, and a nerdy looking guy with hair that would make Little Orphan Annie feel like Daddy Warbucks, comes out from the control booth directly under the DJ Cage.

"You! Put those back! Those are private property!" He has a cell phone out — not a smart phone, a classic, hip, retro flip phone. "Just because you're a big name hero doesn't mean you can steal from us little folks!"

Gar looks at him with confusion as he drops the third exobyte into Bunker's bunker.

And now there is another distraction. It's Vorpal. Oh, it's inequivocably Vorpal. He's dancing quite happily- unfortunately, most of his clothing seems to have forgotten to come with him.

The Cheshire dances on one of the impromptu platforms that the terminally rythmless have used now and again throughout the nigh to display their dancing skills, such as they were…

What do you know? Keith can dance! Granted, he is doing so while clad only in black compression shorts, illusory wisps of light dancing around him as he dances… but at least he now has proved that cats, indeed, can dance.

"I've gotta do this more often!" he says to nobody in particular, although he swears there's someone talking to him, somewhere.

"Your boyfriend's on a bender," Kate notes to Gar, nodding toward where Keith is doing his…number. "Ezekiel Coleman, is that you?" she asks the man who comes out from the DJ's booth, arching a brow at the look. "What are you wearing? And seriously, you and I both know you didn't come by these legally, and we both know you're not going to call your uncle to represent you in some trumped up suit over something that's very possibly actually hurting people, that you put here because it was shiny. So walk yourself back in there," she orders, pointing back at the booth.

The sound of sails deflating accompanies the sight of that hair similarly deflating. It seems that even without arrows Hawkeye can puncture over-inflated egoes. The man suppresses an expression of fear, and manages to hold onto his lunch and bladder both, but it's a close call.

Greggy has finished with his garbage can, and feels MUCH better. Poor guy, exposed to a super-power-granting nanobot gas, and he gets the power to eliminate all the poisons from his body extra-fast.

Lightstick is still out there. Maybe one or two other people will have momentary flashes of power, but only those two will keep them for very long.

"Oh man…" Gar shakes his head. "I'll be back in a second."

A green centaur in a red polo jacket and a purple polo "helmet" canters over to the platform with the purple cat dancer, and says, "Get on board, lover boy. Where's the rest of your clothes?"

"Gar? Oh my god, your butt is enormous!" Vorpal grins at Gar with that unfocused, 'having a good time now, will regeret it in the morning' look. "C'mon up here and dance with me, I was telling Marilyn about you jus' now!" He turns to … nothing. Well, there is something, a transluscent image in the air next to him that may or may not be an illusion of Marilyn Monroe. "He's jus' … jus' the best, sweet'st guy ever. That's why I'm getting him… that's why…"

He turns to Gartaur and leans over to try to kiss him. "You're the best, Gar— oh my god, what happened to your butt? It's huge!" he says, beginning to lose his balance.

"That's what I thought," Kate nods to the man as he departs, sighing when she looks back to the fall out. "Well. That could've gone worse." And then there's the entertainment of drunken cat herding. Definitely better than the music…

"Ya think? It's the polo jacket, it always does this," Gar says, settling the tipsy cat onto his back. "Horsie-Gar Ride time. Siddown."

It only takes three tries to get his passenger into place and facing the right direction, and Gar returns to Kate and Bunker.

"OK, we need to get this stuff to Star Labs. I'll take it outside and get 'em to send us a transport. You gonna stay, or would you like an intro to Dr. Charles? She's a hoot and a half, I'm sure she'll love this."

Yeah, she won't. But it's probably a good idea to go along and get decontaminated. It's less fun, for some values of fun. The van arrives, and leaves, and a few guys in science! jackets go in to scan and decontaminate things. They may or may not collect Lightstick Man and Greggy.

Gar's cousin Matt, the once and future screenwriter but better drummer, will wake up in Cleveland tomorrow to do the whole thing over again.

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