The Baroness, Part 56
A Saving the Future Tie-in
The Zemo Zeppelin cruised gracefully over the South Atlantic toward Capetown while the Baroness and the Minion perused the intel reports.

“So this South African hero team has been able to fight the Purveyors to a standstill?” the Baroness challenged the mousy little man whose metahuman talent was to show up when villains needed a right hand man – er, something.

“Not all of them. The Purveyors were stretched thin going after the Nu Lair Legion and handling your ‘special assignments,’ so Miss Vixen only sent Gromm and Clonar, the C team. She may have underestimated them.”

“That’s not like Vickie,” Beth Zemo mumbled.

“Perhaps,“ the Minion smirked, “ but you’ll have to wait to find out until we get her back from wherever she’s disappeared.”

The Baroness grimaced. “Don’t get me started on that. It’s bad enough I had to lose Sally. She was worth two of Velcro Vixen – and four of you.” To ease the pain, she reached for another slice of apricot strudel.

“I try my best,” the contract flunky simpered. “I trust my services are satisfactory.”

Beth Zemo’s only response was a pinching of her face that suggested the airship had just run past a Limburger cheese factory.

“I’m sure that once you take charge, everything will get cleaned up in short order,” the Minion flattered.

“’Clean up’ is the right phrase,” Beth snarked. “Literally, in Gromm’s case.” Her sneer fit perfectly in the hyper-luxury atmosphere of the zeppelin’s main lounge.

“Don’t underestimate this group. They may not have the Purveyors’ experience, but they appear to be tough and motivated.”

“All right, let’s go through the lineup. Who’s their leader?”

The Minion permitted himself a small smile as he paged through a dossier. This was what he lived for. “’Dubula-isijula’, translates from Zulu as ‘Firespear.’ Low level pyrocaster who can chuck intensely hot flames in the shape of a Zulu spear, plus enhanced warrior abilities – agility, tactics, strength. Can’t fly. “

“Hmmph,” sniffed the Baroness. “What else?”

The Minion ostentatiously flipped to another tab. “There’s Kimberlee. Living black diamond, cuts things, pretty much invulnerable.”

“Ra—range capa – snarf – bilities?” Elizabeth Zemo was trying to speak around a large clot of éclair in her mouth.

“None. Pretty much a brick, although she cuts like Razor Ballerina. Then we get to the weirder members.” He paused, waiting for the inevitable barbed comment.

The Baroness made him wait while she daintily licked pastry cream from her fingers. After a few moments, she delivered the obligatory snark. “This should be good,” she snapped as she reached for another of Frau Zuckerwolken’s éclairs. The Minion considered whether to warn his employer about her cholesterol and rejected the notion. He still remembered his kneecapping by this same Baroness only a few months before. Part of the minionning biz was getting one’s revenge very cold and very late.

“They have an Asian-themed hero, the Mahatma. Rather unclear what he can do. Some say he deals in souls, others say he has a hat-based power.”

Beth groaned. “Not another goody two-shoes like Hatman.”

“I thought Hatman was allied with you now,” the Minion observed.

“Er, yes, but he’s still a square at heart. Keep a close eye on him, Minion. He may revert to type.” A quick recovery, Beth congratulated herself. To celebrate, she took a nibble, well, more like a chomp, of the second éclair.

Something’s fishy there, the Minion concluded, but went on. “Then there’s Cecil Rhodes V. Ability to grab and consume everything, and an appetite to match. Sort of a pocket black hole.”

“Cecil Rhodes the fifth? The first one was childless.”

“It’s just a cover name, I’m sure,” the Minion assured. "He may have a weakness; he's fascinated by railways."

"So we just give him his Christmas present early and he goes away?"

“Perhaps," the Minion responded coolly. "And we have two more oddballs. Shebeen is a female with alcohol-based powers. With all the gasohol around nowadays, she’s becoming a threat.”

“Alcohol-based powers? What are those?”

“Basically she can make anybody drunk by fermenting their stomach contents. She can also blow up gasohol-powered vehicles and cure hangovers instantly. Very popular on Sunday mornings.”

“Sounds like a real party girl. And she helped take down Gromm and Clonar?”

“Apparently she was key to the effort,” the Minion simpered. “Finally, we have the Plaid Rhino.” He waited a beat for another expostulation.

“A plaid hippo? One of those inane Scottish lummoxes that Sir Mumphrey exploits?”

“No, no, Your Excellency, a rhino. Rhinoceros, big honking horn, lunatic aggressiveness, nearly invulnerable, sort of like an ambulatory tank. In Stewart plaid, apparently. “ He lifted a large photo from the dossier and displayed it to his employer.

“Aaagh,” moaned Beth. “It’s like seeing a nightmare while I’m awake.”

“Precisely.”

Playing the part of Baroness Elizabeth Zemo von Saxe-Lurkburg-Schreckhausen:

J. JONAH JERKSON
Voice of the People