> Saving the Future: “Ewe Gotta Have Hartâ€Â
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> It was late, yet the offices of the Parodiopolis Times-Picayune were still busy. Reporters from every department were hustling to cover the latest story of the century: this time it was the disappearance of the Lair Legion and the subsequent emboldening of the city’s super villain community. Making matters worse had been a mass breakout at the Safe orchestrated by parties unknown, though one reporter’s sources were offering up a certain Manga Town crime lord as the culprit. Josie certainly hoped this wasn’t the case, since she and Akiko Masamune had a squash match scheduled for Thursday.
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> Josie Hart, features writer for the Picayune’s “Metro Sectionâ€Â, studied the script on her notepad. Her editor had offered her her pick of which angle of the story she wanted to cover, yet none really stood out. Interviewing those trying to determine the science behind the Legion’s vanishing was a task better suited for the eggheads. An article that captured the reactions of those members of the super team’s inner circle still present sounded juicy, but it was a reaction piece, and Josie wanted to write something proactive. She wanted to report news. She wanted to be meddlesome.
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> The phone rang.
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> “Hart, City Desk,†she said, identifying herself with short, clipped tones.
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> “Josie, its Rowena. From the club.â€Â
> Rowena was Rowena Goldstein, and the club was Club Aotearoa, a posh night spot in Little New Zealand. In addition to its astounding wine cellar and authentic cuisine (their broiled orange roughy being the best in the Northern hemisphere), Aotearoa was significant for who owned it.
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> Augustus Wadell had emigrated from the island nation decades ago. Moving to Little New Zealand, he set himself up as a “humble dealer of woolâ€Â, when in actuality he was using his resources to become a smuggler and bookmaker. Rumor has it the short, stooped man with the pencil-thin nose was worth tens of millions, living in a heavily fortified penthouse as the “Kiwi of Crime.â€Â
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> “What’s up, Ro?†Hart asked after shaking off her expositive reverie.
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> “You asked me to call if something big happens at work. Well, tonight we’re cancelling all reservations and holding a private party. Mister Wadell is beefing up security, including metal detectors and x-ray machines. Plus there are all kinds of scary people hanging around.â€Â
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> Josie grabbed her purse and jacket, “Where are you?â€Â
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> “At a payphone.â€Â
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> “OK. Go back to the club and see if you can let them schedule Tiffany for tonight. Then call me on my cell.â€Â
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> “Gotcha.â€Â
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> Josie went to tell Sol Spivy, the City Editor, she was stepping out to follow a lead, but offered no other explanation. The less people knew about what she would have to do next, the better.
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> *****
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> “Tiffany, eh?†Club Aotearoa’s hostess eyed Josie Hart skeptically; “I don’t remember you.â€Â
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> “You weren’t here the last time I worked. It was for the Flask Anniversary party,†Josie replied in her best Aussie accent. She was in one of her disguises, a blonde page boy wig and clunky tortoise shell frames.
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> “Um hmm,†the older woman said non-commitally, “At least you have the outfit,†referencing the woolen short shorts, tube top, and bonnet all “Lambykins†wore when working at the club.
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> “And I fill it out nicely, too.â€Â
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> “Right,†the hostess was forced to agree. She lifted her shepherd ‘s crook and gestured towards the lobby, “You can help Danielle with the coat check. Just make sure you stay out of security’s way and no chatting up the customers.â€Â
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> “That’s not going to help me with my tips,†Josie pouted, hoping to wheedle her way into a waitressing gig where she could be closer to the action.
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> “Be happy you got something and I didn’t have you tossed out on your fluffy white tail,†lifting up her skirts, the hostess went off to harangue some loitering busboys. Rowena shrugged apologetically.
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> Josie//Tiffany winked back. She’d get the story no matter where Little Miss Muffet placed her. After all, people left all kinds of interesting things in their coats….
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> *****
>
> WAM WAM WAM!! was the sound Schnozz Goblin made when his head was slammed into the stonework that decorated the Buscema Building. The villain struggled vainly to regain control of his Nose Glider, but was thwarted by the silver clad superhero who had hitched a ride.
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> “In all my years,†Silver Aegis commented between punches, “you may be the grossest villain I ever fought.â€Â
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> The glider careened across the Parodiopolis skyline, and would have been a spectacular sight if anyone had been on the street to see it. Once the Safe had been breached a curfew had been declared until the authorities could restore order.
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> “I will be the last villain you ever fight, you Jingoistic Jackanapes!†Schnozz Goblin reached into his Pouch of Tricks for a weapon Silver Aegis was sure he didn't want to see, let alone feel. The hero drove his elbow into the Goblin’s chin and then did a sunset flip so that he was behind his stronger foe. Grabbing his ankles, Aegis yanked Schnozz Goblin free of the footholds that let him control the glider and keep his balance. The villain fell to the roof of a passing building, grenade in hand.
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> By the time Scott had gained control of the Proboscis Shaped Propulsion Vehicle and turned it back around to the point of impact the Goblin was done; unconscious and coated in a shiny green film. The Star Spangled Sensation landed and began his reluctant search for the OTB receipts the crook had made off with earlier.
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> He recovered them, and something more. A matchbook from a night club in one of the city’s many ethnic quarters. Flipping open the cover, he discovered handwritten instructions:
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> 10:30 Tonight
> Bring $$$
> Come in Costume
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> Silver Aegis nodded to himself and then looked grudgingly over at the glutinous remains of the Schnozz Goblin. He sighed.
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> “I’m going to need to find some lye,†he noted, “and a good stiff brush.â€Â
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> To Be Continued!
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