In the deepest recesses of consciousness, they became aware that something was not right. That "not rightness" revealed itself slowly, almost reluctantly, to minds which did not wish to acknowledge certain realities, realities that couldn't be present in the rational, logical, linear world which they thought they knew.

There was... an interruption. Not like a tap on the shoulder or a call waiting beep, but rather a sudden cessation of thought, of consciousness, of everything. They were on their way to that meeting, each thinking his or her own thoughts. They blinked...

That was it. That's when everything just stopped. But there was no sense of time having passed, no sense of trauma or injury, no memories of anything untoward. They were on their way to the house in Aspen.

Then they were not.

The air around them was still, scented with beeswax, and they were lying on something hard and unyielding. That in itself was unnerving because the last memories they could access were of being en route to the house in Aspen and the meeting.

The interrupted blink resumed and they each opened their eyes. There was no plane, no car or road or trees. What was there, no matter how much their minds insisted upon the impossibility, was the interior of a large room, maybe sixty or seventy feet across and back, with some of the most exquisite tapestries imagineable on the walls (tapestries??). Breaking up the designs depicted in the tapestries were four sets of heavy velvet drapes, dark red-gold in color. They were lying on a freshly swept, golden-colored carpet and hanging from the vaulted, cathedral ceiling above was a beautifully polished chandelier that looks like it belonged in a palace.

One set of double doors was in this room, quite nearby actually, wooden, polished, extremely sturdy, and closed. Across the room was an open archway and through it could be seen a broad hallway with a dark golden carpet runner on the floor and lit candelabra set at intervals along both walls.

There were seven of them in the large room, humans and superhumans of varying descriptions. They all looked as if they'd just finished blinking, each face mirroring the confusion and dismay on the faces of the others.

Dylan scrambled and backpeddled towards the wall to his right. He knew enough to put his back to a wall. ANNAH!!! He screamed mentally as he opened his mind to her. The young man pressed himself against the wall and crouched down as he surveyed the room and the others.

Annah?!?!?! he pushed out mentally as he sought her presence. Something was wrong. She never stopped the mindlink she shared with him.

The feelings of loneliness and isolation began to build in him. Dylan was scared. He hadn't felt this alone since the day he ran away from home over two years ago. I'm sorry, Annah, he thought. I didn't...I won't ever...where are you? Slowly and unbidden the tears began to well inside him as his own emotions rocked and tumbled about his mind. He hadn't known, until now, how much he truly needed the woman that had taken him in and provided guidance these last few years.

He took a deep breath and tried to still the storm that had become Dylan Hayes. He looked around to gain some sense of place.

Silence came from the largish man farthest the double doors, prone on the floor not far from one of the curtained windows.

Silence emanated from his six-foot 3" frame, and an invisible, inaudible but very powerful pulse interfering with radio reception for a moment, before it was gone.

The chest below the yellow tweed jacket and magenta turtleneck sweater did not rise up and down to draw breath. Eyelids beneath dark glasses did not twitch.

Before the next pulse filled the room and faded completely, his sneakers nailed themselves to the carpeted floor, hugging inexplicably tight to the textured surface. The man's right hand slapped the material briskly, jolting him upright into a half-crouching stance, the peak of his red baseball cap orienting as he turned his head to survey the other seven inhabitants of the large chamber.

The nose beneath the baseball cap inhaled sharply. The half-hidden face shedded a look of shock and surprise as self-control asserted. Head briskly shaking, the man appeared to be trying to listen to things no one ought be able to hear.

"Are any of you people hurt?" he asked, gently, a Boston twang to his accent.

"'You people' ..xkzx..?" muttered a fizzing, sparking human-shaped ball of yellow electricity, bright even in this palace of opulence. The electrical thing was lying in a loose foetal position on the golden carpet, although it slowly began to move in small crackling, jerking steps. Somehow, the electricity was mostly contained in the humanoid form, and even where it arced to the floor, it did not singe the carpet.

Then, quickly, the electrical man began to rise, rubbing its head whilst unfolding its slim, athletic, average height form.

"Don't move too quickly, in case you have injuries," he warned, concernedly, upon seeing the reaction of the costumed young man on the far side of the room.

"It appears something may have happened," he adds, overstating the obvious. He was still in the half crouch, not seeming to realize it looked like he was still wary, suspicious and confused himself.

The electrical being slowed his ascent, but still continued to rise. He turned his head and looked around at the room, harmless yellow sparks flying as he did.

"Wha…?", the living lightning muttered.

Misa looked over to the huge man, having paused from checking of her suit and possessions to regard him. No, I'm in costume, still. I'm Kitsune, she thought to herself, while she fought her panic and fear at having been violated while she was unconscious. There was no indication she had been; her undergarments had not been disturbed and her wallet and keys were still in her pouch, but that didn't quell her fear entirely.

I had to go and think about the Author, didn't I? Kitsune thought to herself. She preferred to think in English, hoping the Author wasn't fluent in the language, but she had her doubts as to that hope. Of course when she addressed the Author after one of his outrages, she did so in Japanese. Might as well make it easy for the perverted bastard, she thought in Japanese.

Now was the time to speak aloud, she figured. "Yes, it does," Kitsune said, willing herself to sound confident and in control. She's not Misa at the moment, she was the mysterious Kitsune, and that seemed to help settle things in her head. Go with the plot, it'll be easier.

Kitsune stood up, moving easily, and stretched her limbs. She was tiny compared to the huge man crouched nearby, merely five feet tall and weighing maybe ninety pounds, and covered from head to toe in a silver body suit with red highlights and pads, boots and gauntlets. "I'm known as Kitsune," she spoke softly, her accent middle class American, a hint of California and the far East, "and I appear to be uninjured, although I'm wondering how we got here, and the reason why." She snorted behind her mask, "This wasn't in the recruitment literature."

Dylan looked at the large man with the clothes that seemed to move at will. He pushed out to detect any mental signatures, but he received no fragments of any psychic activity on or around these others.

Dylan's gaze darted nervously to the other inhabitants of this room before it returned to the man who spoke. He breathed deeply to refocus as Annah had taught him.

"I'm Nocturne" he told him in a voice that had just enough of an accent to place him from Brooklyn but laced with a mid-west flavor. "Who are you?"

"Hmm, seems like an unusual place for a meet and greet... Anyways, for now at least, I'll go by Mike," Grinning said as he secretly wished that he'd been in costume whenever whatever happened had happened.

Absent mindedly, he reached for his staff, using it to help himself to his feet, going through several motions designed to test his nimbleness as well as overall general physical condition. As he finished his tests, which took only a little bit more time than normal standing, he planted the end of his quarterstaff flatly on the floor, and propped himself about halfway up it, wrapped around it much like a monkey around a tree.

From this seemingly precarious perch, he made contact with each person, looking for any of the tell tale signs of hostility he could think of.

"Good to meet you, Mike," Kitsune said, letting her voice carry a bit. "Although I have to agree with you about the circumstances." The diminuative woman's stance showed her unease easily enough, but she moved with confidence, not with the grace of a martial artist, but definitely more so than most normal humans. Her face remained hidden, although her eyes were just visible behind the visor if you knew where and how to look.

"Does anyone know where we are?"

Stephen sat up so suddenly his head started hurting. He absently rubbed at his temples as he took in the surroundings: the room, the other people (he especially stared long and hard at the people in costume, very aware that he wasn't wearing his own), and the fact that his rather expensive sports car had actually been in motion when he was brought... wherever he was... and thus was probably a thirty thousand dollar paperweight rather than the beautiful machine it once was.

He was scared, and he was angry. This is not what he signed on for... hell, he hadn't even officially signed on for anything yet. Stephen stood, still shaky from the shock of suddenly being somewhere unknown with a room full of strangers, and shook his head. Someone would pay for this nonsense. He'd be on the phone with his lawyer and his agent. This superhero shit was obviously a mistake.

Absently he kicked at the bag at his feet. Whoever had kidnapped him had been conscientious enough to bring the costume. The thing had been packed parachute style, so it would be released by simply pulling a single handle on the bag. Compressed nitrogen then blew the pack apart, allowing him to expand the suit around him through the use of his own power. Cost him a pretty penny to have designed and made, nearly a fifth of what his car had cost, so at least his night wasn't a complete loss monetarily. Still, it was humiliating, and scary. "Someone's going to lose their fucking job over this", Stephen muttered to himself.

It was only then that he recognized the question. "Where are we? The freaking Twilight Zone, probably." Since some of the others were in costume, now might be the time. Stephen picked up his bag and yanked on the red handle. Nearly five hundred square feet of red and yellow parachute silk billowed out in a soft explosion of gas, immediately gripped in the strength of his power. It moved, seemingly on its own, to surround and mold itself to his body, the excess hanging in the air around him, moving at random like a living creature. To Stephen, every time he put on the suit it reminded him of that craptastic film "Spawn".

He directed his first question to the woman dressed like a Power Ranger and the man-ape who had called himself Mike: "Even better... anyone know what the hell do we do now?"

Kitsune nodded her head. "First, I believe we should make ourselves ready, just in case our hosts here are not hospitable. They probably do not wish us harm, or else we would have awakened in chains and helpless, or not at all." And wouldn't that perverted fanboy love to see me stripped down to nothing and in some sort of bondage gear.

"However," the young woman continued, "if your situations match mine, then you too were abducted without warning, and that does not constitute a friendly act. Best be on our guard, then." Kitsune looked to Nocturne and the big guy near her. "Perhaps you gentlemen wouldn't mind looking behind those drapes there and see if you can tell where we're at? While you do that, I'm going to slip into something a little more comfortable."

Kitsune moved to the corner with her back to it, and then started a bit of a dance. It looked graceful, but freestyle and perhaps without meaning as she shifted to the mindset necessary for her magic. She began to chant softly in Japanese as she focused her power. "Genbu of the wintry North, Byakko of the autumnal West, grant to me your turtle shell and your tiger strength. Give to your servant the power to prevail for justice!"

Spheres of energy appeared in her hands, one blindingly white, the other radiating darkness. The two flowed over her arms and along her body, and for a second her feet lifted off the ground. If you blinked, you would have missed the shot of a gorgeous young woman in the nude, blue hair flowing behind her as if she were standing in a gale, lasting perhaps one thirtieth of a second, then the light show dimmed and an armored figure dropped to the ground.

The plate armor was as black as a moonless night, with the hint of stars on its surface and a red fox emblem on the breastplate, covering her from head to toe. Her gloves, however, were white with black tiger striping, and seemed to faintly glow with power. "When we're ready," Kitsune said softly, "I suggest we try the door and see if we can find whoever is responsible for this."

The electrical being still seemed to be standing, looking around the room, bewildered. Occasionally, he looked at the others as they talked. His sparking, yellow eyes stared as he watched one man open what appeared to be a parachute only for the material inside to whirl, slither and flap as it surrounded the man. He also watched with interest as the slim, young woman in the tight silver costume lifted into the air and summoned a suit of ebony and ivory armor.

The living lightning looked then at the strange big man with the baseball cap and dark glasses. His mouth opened, releasing a hiss of static, and he simply said,

"Wha…?"

Boston-accent advised, as he moved toward the curtains nearest his right as he faced the end of the room with the door, "Hugh."

"Call me 'Hugh'. It's easier than pronouncing my real name, and shorter than explaining." A big hand gently touched the edge of the curtain, as his head shifted to peer behind it.

"We're out of radio reception of.. well.. radio," Hugh told. "That, or the room is shielded. The point of the Twilight Zone was to control the vertical and the horizontal, not turn it off entirely. But I do have some hypotheses based on observation and logical deduction."

"One," Hugh surmised, "I expect it's fair to guess we're all people of exceptional ability who have been approached to hear out a proposal, based on the mode of dress of some, and Ms Fox-Armor's previous statement."

"Two," Hugh continued, still near the curtain, addressing the room's occupants casually, "we didn't make it to the appointment we expected, based on various reactions and behaviors."

"Three, we've all suffered improbable and unexpected blackouts, judging by the similarity of our state upon awaking." Hugh was being more professorial than profound.

"Four, I don't know what's beyond that door or these curtains. but I expect something in their nature is not inviting, so be careful approaching them." Hugh was demonstrating by example, being very circumspect about moving the curtain.

"Five, I believe we're expected to decide to enter that corridor," Hugh pointed with his thumb over his left shoulder.

"Six," Hugh finally added, "I expect it's extremely physically dangerous, judging by my being placed closest to it."

The electrical being took his first step towards the big man. He seemed to be the most talkative of the seven other people in the room so that made him the spokesperson. His six step summary of the situation seemed spot on but sadly stopped short of supplying a solution to their strange circumstances. Sparks crackled as an electric hand rose into a quick, short wave.

"Wh…", the electrical man began, his voice full of static and crackling like an arc-welder. He then changed his mind and said, “Hi! Name’s Blitz. Good to meet you”.

Blitz looked at the others then back at the one called Hugh. Not a very hero-y sounding name, thought Blitz, but what did he know? His mind now beginning to race after his initial confusion, Blitz decided to reply to the man’s points and join in the party.

"You’re right about uzs having exxsceptional abilitiesz" Blitz crackled. "I can control and…xkvsx… emit electricity. I exzpect from your comment about the corridor that you’re zxstrong and tough?"

The man had mentioned something about an appointment. Had they all been heading to the house to meet Rod, Blitz wondered. But before he could continue, a sharp suited man near the edge of the room suddenly moved. Blitz turned to look at the man, wondering what he had to say.

Vincenzo blinked, and blinked again. The road did not come back. He'd been adjusting his rear view mirror, to get the sun to stop blinding him from it's position in the Western sky, squinting to keep at least one eye on the road, and now he was here, wherever here was. He sprang to his feet and assumed a light defensive posture - the kind he used when he wasn't sure there would be a fight, but couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be one, either. He looked around at the roomful of similarly confused people, and came to a few conclusions. He looked at the kid in the costume, and the girl in the armor, and looked to see what he was wearing. The same as that morning, a French cuffed business shirt, gold cuff-links, flat fronted khaki pants, hand made Italian loafers in a light tan, and of course his chain. His gloves were still on, kidskin leather that matched his shoes. He was cognito, as were a few others, presumably in a similar predicament.

"We have a situation here," he started, his Italian accent gently inflecting his English. It wasn't a New York drawl, but a Northern Italian lilt that tried to set everything to music. It seemed that sometimes the obvious was the only thing to start with - the giant in the ball cap had done the same, and it was clear he was smart enough to see it was obvious. "You, and you, and you, and certainly me, we might as well be naked." He was talking to the big guy, the guy with the stick, and the actor he'd seen testifying on Law & Order once. "Since we aren't trying to kill each other, I'll assume we're all working for the same team. We can all agree this is a Vegas type situation? What happens here, stays here? I have a whole other job, and it's pretty clear we're all here for the same reason, whatever that is."

He looked around to see if his suitcase was with him, which seemed likely given the other costumes that seemed to be handy, if strange and revelatory at the same time. "OK, we're not in intentional danger yet, or we'd be helpless, or just plain killed outright. Whoever brought us here doesn't want us dead, or if they do they're doing it wrong. They don't want us helpless, or you and you and you and certainly you, wouldn't have your stuff or your ... whatever," he said, pointing at the girl and the kid in costume, the actor in his new duds, and the man with the body electric.

"Most of this stuff is French, and it all has to be reproduction," he continued, gesturing to the chandelier, the tapestries and the curtains. "There's just no way those," he said, pointing to the tapestries, "could be original - they're in too good a shape, same as the curtains, and the styles are from different centuries, same as that," he continued, pointing at the chandelier, "which ought to be in Versailles. Great reproductions, though, and not forgeries, or they'd be distressed."

Vaguely, Stephen studied the tapestries and the curtains for a moment. This guy might think they were reproductions, but Stephen's senses didn't necessarily indicate that. Of course, in the larger scheme of things, it was an unimportant point, so Stephen kept his mouth shut.

He walked over to the curtain and brushed it aside gently with a finger, revealing a fog bound world of gray outside. "Pea soup. No idea where we are."

"OK", he clapped his hands together, rubbing them a little theatrically. He squatted to his well muscled haunches, tugging his pants legs up a notch to make room as he went down. He was not wearing socks, and his ankles showed the same dark hair that peaked out from his shirt collar. "What are our assets? I'll go first - I'm the Black Cat, I'm from Chicago by way of Venice, and I do most of my work with my hands and feet. I don't read minds, shoot fire out of my eyes, or anything fancy like that, but I get by OK. Provided that's really my stuff over there," and as he said this he pointed at a bundle of black fur that looked like his cape, possibly with his gear inside of it, "I'll do better, but that's not a priority right now. If our host wanted us dead, we would be." He looked around, his deep brown eyes assessing everybody. "You there, Nocturne, give us a snapshot of you can do, and pick who goes next. We all need to know what we have to work with, and fast."

The Black Cat wasn't used to being in charge of this kind of environment, and even in the business world he thought of himself as more of a facilitator than leader, but he needed to know what he had to work with, and fast. Additionally, the kid looked spooked, and a minute to focus himself and make a decision about how to control at least a tiny bit of what comes next in his life could only help.

Stephen hesitantly held up a hand. He paused for a moment, then asked in a slightly uncomfortable tone, "Excuse me... but why is he in charge?"

Stephen's question stopped Dylan from responding to The Black Cat's question. A..A...Annah? he probed one last time before he resigned himself to the fact that he was utterly alone. Fear gave way to instinct as he watched the dynamic at play before him. He had seen this before. Egos had taken control. Best let them vie for position. Fuckin' adults! Silence was still his best option for the time being.

Dylan was reasonably comfortable that these seven meant him no harm. It was obvious they were as confused as well, and he also believed this was not the intended meeting. "Assess and prepare" she always said. Dylan stood in a more relaxed position. He watched and listened as they challenged one another.

Blitz placed an electrified hand on his sparking chin as if in thought. It didn’t look like the kid was going to say much at the moment.

"I think itsz pretty clear that none of usz in thiz room isz in charge here" muttered Blitz, absently looking up at the chandelier. "Black Catz just trying to get a bit of info. Seemsxz like a good idea". He then approached one of the walls and placed a sparking hand against it as if testing its strength.

"If I was gonna be inna charge," Vincenzo replied hastily, quickly enough that his accent thickened briefly, "I'd have to have a plan. We don't has a plan. We don't know who we are, where we are, why we're here, or how to get out. There is nothing to be in charge of yet. Right now, I'm just trying to get some facts together. When it comes time to really have a plan, I'm sure we'll all be in charge in one big happy democratic family. Right now, we just have to have a quick meet and greet, and then when we know what we have, we can figure out - together - what we gonna do. Okay? Okay." He was animated, as always, but not hostile. It was too soon for infighting, he had to avoid it.

"Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole here... its just that I don't know who any of you people are." Stephen looked around at the others for a moment. "I've got no idea where I am or what's going on, and you just assuming control of the situation just doesn't sit right with me somehow. Either you're as clueless as I am and are trying to fake your way through by calling the shots, or you know something and are pretending to be clueless. I'm not sure which is worse at the moment."

Vincenzo's face showed that he was a little flummoxed, and that he had in fact been a little exposed. He smiled a smile that acknowledged Stephen's point, and said, with blatant mock innocence "I'm not faking, I'm just ... improvising."

Black Cat looked back at Nocturne, put on his most pleasant smile, and said "Please, introduce yourself. It would really help me get my bearings."

"Fascinating," remarked Hugh to himself very quietly, as he looked out 'his own' window.

Hugh breathed on the glass, attempting to fog it with his breath. Which proved Hugh could breath, if he wanted to. The backs of Hugh's fingers inelegantly touched 'his' window's surface tentatively, as if to measure the temperature, and then rapped to judge the thickness and acoustics by sound. Then a scowl of concentration, as he turned to other senses in the radio wavelengths, probing.

For a time, Hugh let the others speak, and he did listen, drawing more conclusions, or collecting data for future hypotheses.

"Blitz, I'd based my guess about .. well, in my turn," Hugh answered the electrical being over his shoulder, still studying the window.

"Nocturne, is it?" Hugh finally said much louder, "There are eight factorial ways we can organize ourselves socially, which is forty thousand three hundred and twenty, and only one way we can fail to. Disorganized, we're significantly weakened. The Black Cat has a point. Please. Proceed."

Stephen just stared for a moment. "Excuse the fuck out of me for being a human being. Jesus", he muttered to himself. The cloud of fabric floating around him roiled, echoing the actor's emotional state. For all the world they looked much like the stormclouds on a gas giant.

Dylan was impressed with the way they quickly aligned themselves. He was also in awe of those in the room with him. He had only ever been around one other person that had powers. He tried his best to not sound out of place or out of control. He had never tried to explain his powers to anyone other then Annah. At least she understood him.

"I have psychic powers," he started. "There's a more to it then that, but I don't think you are looking for a laundry list at the moment."

"'At's good! We'll need that!" Vincenzo kept his eyes steady on the boy, and tried to lend him some strength without appearing to condescend. "Your turn to be 'in charge' now - pick who goes next," he said, accenting the words "in charge" with a light sarcasm that said being in charge was not something he regarded too seriously. He tugged off his gloves, toed off his loafers, and reached over to his gear and costume, sorting through it quickly to make sure everything was in order. His fingertips and toes ended in short, sharp and wicked claws.

Dylan didn't need psychic powers to know what The Black Cat was trying to do, but he appreciated it anyway. He nodded to the large man, If I can call him that, in the red cap and indicated he should go next.

At the psychic's nod, the large man in the red cap, as opposed to the other large men in the room, spoke across the cavernous space.

"Again, call me Hugh. I hold advanced engineering degrees in physical systems and biology. My perceptions reach into the radio spectrum, both visual and audio. Though yes, to address Blitz' conclusion, I am strong, and tough."

At this, Blitz smiled looking pleased with himself and nodded towards Hugh. He then turned back to studying the bottom edges of the walls moving away from the group.

Hugh paused, looking toward the corridor he'd mentioned earlier. "Not strong nor tough enough not to be taken by surprise, which is dismaying. There shouldn't be things capable of knocking me out and not leaving a mark on my clothes."

He paces toward the next window, opening its curtains, too. "To keep on track," he says, looking over his shoulder, before focusing again on the corridor, "Now that she's decent again, Ms. Fox-Armor, if you would continue the rondelle?"

"Decent again"? Kitsune thought with some surprise. When was I "indecent?"

She set that aside, and addressed the others in the room. "As I said before, I am Kitsune. I would also qualify as 'strong and tough', but I can also summon items to either arm myself, protect myself, or a few other things. I'm just your average, everyday Magic Girl, I guess." She spoke with a hint of humor in her voice, "The armor and gauntlets are in addition to my normal abilities, for example. I also heal pretty well, but I'm not interested in testing this with Hugh-sensei or anyone else, at least for now."

Kitsune considered a moment, then turned to the man now costumed in swathes of silk. "if you wouldn't mind, sir," she said softly, a gentle smile in her tone, "would you tell us what you wish to be called, and your abilities, please?"

"Uh... yeah... I call myself Tapestry. I can control and manipulate cloth... you know, fabric... clothing, curtains, napkins, bath towels... whatever. I use it as a weapon." The actor speaks with his hands, and as everyone watches, the cloth collects into two huge "wings" that mimic the motions of his arms as precisely as they can and still basically be formless masses of silk. Everyone could see that at full extension they'd reach forty or fifty feet from the man... and it occurred to the more fashion-conscious members of the group how strong silk could be... "I know... not the coolest power in the world, but it works for me", he adds, almost defensively.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Tapestry-san," Kitsune replied respectfully, still with that hidden smile. "You appear to be well prepared to take advantage of your gifts."

He took a breath. "So... um... you never told us what you could do?" He nodded toward the Italian dude who had taken charge of the group.

"Me? I have the blessings of the Black Cat. I am stronger, faster, and more agile than most men, and I have remarkable good fortune. My enemies can have very bad luck. With these," he fanned several gently curved black spikes, each as long as a carving knife, and gestured at a coil of steel cable with a wicked looking treble hook at the end of it, "I can stop almost anybody."

"Can these wall hangings tell you anything about where we are, Tapestry? They appear remarkably authentic to my layman's eye, but that is impossible of course." The fact that the Black Cat's entire circumstances were impossible at the moment was a point to which he seemed oblivious.

He gathered up his equipment and costume and looked around the room, and then at Kitsune. He shrugged a little and said "Donna Kitsune, scusi, but I feel I must change, but I wouldn't want to embarrass you with my ... informality. If you don't mind, I will change in this corner over here, and I hope you will forgive my intrusion." There is no good way to strip in front of a strange woman. He walked to the nearest corner, and began unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing a torso that would make a Chippendale dancer fiercely insecure. "Please, Tapestry, I beg of you, give everybody something else to think about and look at."

"Huh? Oh, certainly." Before everyone's eyes the clothing the Italian man was wearing began shifting and reweaving itself until it was a functional twin of the costume the man held in his hands. "Hope that helps."

"Woah-woah-woah-hey!" rumbled out of the Black Cat's throat as he involuntarily jumped slightly, landing up on his toes as he watched his clothes change shape, texture, fit, and color, while he was still wearing them. He looked at Tapestry with his head cocked to one side and his eyebrows raised. From a large Italian man it was a remarkably feline gesture. "Mille Gratzi!" he said, pausing to admire the accuracy of the gold brocade and piping that accented his black costume. He casually tossed his now surplus costume onto the floor, and slipped on the tooled green leather belt and domino mask before tugging on the yellow leather fingerless gloves and soft sandals that stopped short of his toes. He mumbled to himself "It is a strange day when one cannot trust one's own pants." A short black fur cape completed his costume, and he soon had the long coiled steel cable with its clawed foot hung on his belt.

Misa couldn't help herself, she laughed in delight. "I do not think Neko-san was quite thinking of that when he asked for a distraction, Tapestry-san, but you did save him embarassment."

Kitsune turned to the Black Cat and bowed to him gracefully, "And you had nothing to apologize for, Neko-san, although I appreciate you taking my feelings into consideration. These are not normal times, as all have mentioned, and so we ought to account for times when we are driven by need."

Inwardly, she laughed at herself, never imagining that she could embody the balance and grace of a yamato nadeshiko, but she was the only woman among the seven of them, and so that role may fall upon her. The thought tickled her, since right now she could juggle tanks with relative ease, and she was falling into the role of emotional support. Better than some of the alternatives, she thought, since this would make a damned peculiar 'harem' for her. No, best not tempt the Author, or else things could get decidedly weird. Although Neko-San... No, best not.

While the others make their introductions, 'Hugh' inspected their surroundings.

Every once in a while Hugh's head turned back toward the direction of the corridor, as if expecting a host to appear from that passage. The big man was poking or probing the curtains front and back, the tapestries likewise, on the walls and floor, and examining what he could find behind them.

Murmering quietly while he studied these artifacts, Hugh lamented, "Some decent equipment, a magnifier -- wonder if the prisms from the chandel.. nah. No time. A watch. A straightedge. A plumbline.." recounting a catalogue of what he wished were on hand. Some might have thought of food, a map, or a car to take them back to Aspen. But Hugh seemed to be driven otherwise.

With a sudden zap and crackle, Blitz flew from one of the far corners of the room to the group. A bolt of yellow lightning trailed his passage as he arrived.

"Well," explained the lad of lightning "I've looked everywhere and there doeszn't appear to be any power zsockets or electrixcal wiring in this room...kxzs. And the lightz are lit by candlesz. It's like szomewhere out of the nineteenth century".

Blitz looked around at the group, taking in Tapestry's billowing 'cloak' and Hugh's mutterings. He smiled.

"Is it my turn now?" he asked. Before anyone could answer he continued.

"Like I said before, I'm Blitzz". He briefly waved at them all and carried on. "I'm a freelance crimefighter operating out of Denver. I can fly and fire boltsxz of lightning or stinging ztatic".

As a demonstration of his power he lifted his arm and made a flicking action with his finger. Sparks of bright yellow static shot out and hit a nearby tapestry. The cloth jumped a little but was otherwise unharmed.

Blitz began studying the tapestry he had just shocked whilst continuing the explanation of his powers.

"Also, I can transport myself down electrical conductorz, like wirez, cables, telephone linez and the like. I can also... ksxz... see down these as well. It'z a pity this room doesxn't have any power lines otherwise I'd be able to see what else was going on in the building".

Blitz stopped studying the tapestry and turned to look at the others. His sparking face had a somewhat disappointed look about it.

"I'm surprised none of you have heard about me" he pouted. Shrugging, he looked at the grinning monkey man with the staff.

"Sxo, Mike. Do you have a cool busineszz name? Like Quarterstaff? And what abilitiez do you have?" asked Blitz.

"Yeah, I have another name," Mike says as he reaches under his shirt, pulling out his mask, a half face style in the vein of those worn in the old Zorro movies except that it covered from just past the nose to the back of his head and like the quarterstaff was black, and putting it on, "While I'm in costume, I go by Grinning Shadow."

The pronouncement is punctuated by a backflip resulting in Grinning standing in a crouch position holding the quarterstaff behind him.

"As for what I can do? Well you could say I'm quite nimble. Well, that and I'm great with this staff of mine." Again, this is punctuated by a triple jab of the staff beginning approximatly where a human's inner thigh would be, followed by a mid-torso, and finished by what would be a blow to the face.

"I'm not terribly sure, heck I'm still trying to keep track of who's who as it is, but is there one more to introduce themselves?"

Dylan had watched the dazzling display that the others performed like the cast from the revival of A Chorus Line he had seen when he was 10. His mind was spinning from the varying effects of powers he witnessed. He used to think he was a freak. Annah had taught him he was special. Now he felt less so. What can I do compared to these he asked himself.

Dylan pushed out with both his Mindscan and his Mindprobe powers, but they revealed nothing. He looked out the window into the fog and pushed again. Still nothing. He turned around looked back across the room to Blitz, Hugh, The Black Cat, Kitsune, Grinning Shadow, and especially Tapestry. He was almost hypnotized by the way the fabric had flowed like dye in a glass of water. Annah, he thought to himself and to her. What am I to do? I am so sorry. And he was.

Dylan knew he was hard on her. He knew she meant the best for him, and he had taken advantage of her so many times. He vowed he would never do that to her again. He breathed deeply to clear his head and spoke to Vincenzo.

"Excuse me, Black Cat" he said. "You said you would need that when I told you I was a psychic. What do you need me to do? So far I can pick up no psychic energies in this room other then my own. I can detect nothing outside these walls nor in that roiling mass of a Stephen King novel out there."

For a fraction of a second, the Black Cat stared wide eyed at the young psychic. Nocturne's observation wasn't what he had expected, at all. Quickly, he readjusted his expression, back to something more confident. "Zero is a perfectly good data point," he began. "Are you sure? Of course you sure. Okay. Don't worry, there will be people for your powers, those candles didn't light themselves, and it wasn't a robot, according to Blitz. We have no radio signals, no electricity, no other people here, nothing to see out the window. Hugh, where does that leave us?"

"Where? Excellent question. I'm collecting data." Hugh paused in his answer, moving purposefully, methodically, and began to speak again to one of those nearest him, though apparently listening inattentively to the conversations on the other side of the room.

"Blitz," observed Hugh, "doorknobs are conductors. We have double doors. I'm curious if the view out the front is different from out the windows, but I'm not sure it best to invite an unknown atmosphere inside just yet. Think it's worth a gander?"

"Good point" agreed Blitz. "I don't uzually use my power to look through door-knobzxs. But, yeah, if they conduct electricity I will be able to zee the other side...kxsc".

Like a sudden bolt of lightning, Blitz zapped over to the closed double doors. Looking at a door knob, he put his hand out and gripped it, but did not pull or turn it. Instead, he extended an electric current through the door knob to the one on the other side and, using the current, viewed the scene on the other side.

All that Blitz could see however was swirly grey mist. Nothing but dull, boring mist. He sighed.

"Seems like the same thing outside these doors as is outside the windows" reported Blitz. "Nothing but grey mist"

As he spoke, Hugh pressed his back against the wall, and afterward, unheeding of the lightning-powered-hero's response, paced toward the chandelier, counting to himself it seemed. Then, he kneeled under it, and began to examine the carpet there, as if he had lost a contact lens. "The chandelier might be used as a Foucault pendulum, to determine our lattitude on the planet. If we have one."

Hugh didn't seem to be paying attention to how far the introductions have gotten, though once he looked up and scanned around as if to see who he couldn't place with a name yet. Apparently, Hugh was counting more than just steps in his head.

"There are," Hugh announced, with a tone of profundity, as if he'd just discovered a secret, "seven of us here."

Hugh added, like an afterthought "It's very nice to meet you all, or were circumstances other, I'm sure it would be. And you're all exciting, interesting specimens who I'd love to take biometric measurements of for the sake of advancing science, if I had a lab and you were willing volunteers."

Hugh tilted his head, still kneeling under the chandelier. "The textiles of this room," he continued, running his fingers over the carpet "interesting specimens. The forty eight panes of glass in the four windows, though I'm only extrapolating from one pane, are highly unusual. The room itself, a puzzle. The manner of our getting to this room, an enigma. We have more than a situation here, as the congenial Mr. Cat suggests."

"I was on my way to a meeting with people I hoped were like myself in some way, to discover if by pooling our abilities we might accomplish more, and better, than alone," the Bostonian said, as he stood up.

"This," Hugh asserted "isn't the meeting any of us expected, though we are the same people. It seems some circumstance is forcing our hands somewhat, which begets a need for speed, and is the last thing I would have wanted. I believe we should all decide, and soon, if that's what we're at this meeting for: to pool our abilities and accomplish more, and better, than alone. This room was not made for spending very long in, I think."

"Probably not, Hugh-sensei, probably not." Kitsune considered the matter, then looked to the Black Cat. "Neko-san, do you have a suggestion, or does anyone else have one for that matter?"

Kitsune gestured to the door then nodded to the corridor. "My concern is that whatever path we take, we leave our backs exposed to the other direction, but I agree with Hugh-sensei. It would not be wise to linger here."

"The only source for information left in this room is the walls themselves," said the Black Cat. "I know enough to have an idea on what to bid for them at an auction maybe, but that's nothing. Lucky for us, the fates have given us a man who can talk to fabric." He looked at Tapestry, and gestured with both hands outstretched towards him. "Can you tell us anything, anything at all, about the curtains, or the carpet, or your namesakes over there? It's all we have left, and we have a whole chart full of zero otherwise."

"Well I don't actually talk to... I mean... I can tell certain things about them, but... They're made of fabric, and their all originals, and some of them are really old, but otherwise I don't actually talk to the... I mean, that would be silly, right?" The full mask held the true depth of Stephen's confusion at the request in secret. Some of these people weren't as new to this superhero thing as he was, and it was taking him a while to get into the mindset. I mean really, who would come up with something like "talk to the drapes" but a superhero, anyway?

For not the first time since he started this new gig, Stephen found himself wishing that he was a comic book fan like that jerk of a cousin of his. Damn that man with his career and his trophy wife and being promoted to head up a production studio... and his childish reading habits....

""Wait!" interrupted Blitz, stepping away from the door and turning to look at Hugh. "You say you were on your way to a meeting? Waz it in Azspen? To see un... Rod Bellar?"

"If all the textiles bear the same hallmarks as the one sample I examined, they're hand-made, Hugh concurred with Tapestry.

"The windows appear to be wood and glass.." the Bostonian continued, "except there are no nails, no hammer marks, no screws, staples, glue beads, that I saw.. no signs or indications of how the conventional apparently man-made materials of this room were assembled. We were meant to be assembled by Rod Bellar," added Hugh, in reply to Blitz' question. "I think that's a fair guess. Who assembled us and this place, I have no idea. Toto, we're not in Kansas, and I half suspect if we look outside we'll find ruby slippers."

"Oh?" exclaimed Blitz, a little surprised. "Szo everyone here waz going to the meeting?! And now, szomeone or something haz teleported uz here...kxst. We should explore, find out who ownz this place..." muttered Blitz, but Black Cat interrupted.

"Okay, we're at an unspecifiable location, at an unspecefiable time, alone, in a structure of indeterminable origins, construction, or ownership," the Black Cat began, summarizing the obvious yet unbelievable. "We're nowhere with nobody. I vote we go down the hall in a Roman formation - shields in front, archers to the rear. There's nobody here but us chickens, as they say in America, so there shouldn't be trouble, but the word 'should' has lost a lot of value in the past ten minutes." He gestured all of this with his hands, as he did with everything he said. He looked around at everyone, hopeful that they were feeling up to whatever came next. He added, in the possibly vain hope of not assuming a leadership role he wasn't sure he was up to, "I am eager to hear any suggestions other than opening those doors - I don't want to go where I can't see anything."

"Well, you could always open the door just enough for one of us to peek through. I could even shimmy up to the top of the door if we only open it say half way? That would reduce our risk, if not eliminate it all together. That said though, I'm also open for the throw the doors wide open and greet whatever comes our way in true fighting style." Grinning responded to the suggestion and qualms of his fellow hero, "But before we do any of these, allow me to remove the outer layer of clothing and get fully into my work clothes."

With that, Grinning begins removing his shirt, a blousey one becoming revealed behind his short sleeve one, the arms sliding down as the shirt comes off.

"Ah, but Blitz-san already peered through the door and saw nothing but fog," Kitsune reminded Mike. "If the fog remains that thick, we could get lost within just a few steps from the door. For all we know there is a sudden drop or some other danger we could stumble into that way."

Kitsune walked to the archway on the other side of the room, and peered down the corridor, trying to see what was that way. "This way is unknown, but as least we can see. Perhaps we should consider this way?"

"My mistake my dear. I kinda got caught up in the moment and suggestion," Grinning punctuated this with his characteristic smile and a fancy bow to the young woman.

"We're all liable to make mistakes in this situation, I imagine," Hugh agreed. "Shouldn't stop us from working the problem."

"We're lacking," the scientist continued, his voice dropping to continue only for those who cared to try to follow his deductive processes, "normal points of reference, other than gravity and the contents of this room. I'm not even hearing Cosmic background radiation, which.. the room isn't a Gauss box, so shouldn't be shielding out. Either that fog has some unknown property of suppressing energy, or we're not in the Universe at all."

Hugh shook his head slowly, gradually looking up at the candles and prisms. "It'd take a few hours to turn the chandelier into an effective Foucault pendulum and test if even the gravity means what it appears to. During which time you'll all likely become thirsty, or hungry, and we'd have to explore the corridor to see if there's facilities down there to support your biological functions. The candles may be burning down. I don't know if the air in here will get stale or stay fresh. I don't even know if time is linear here." He looked concerned for the sake of the six people with him, though there was no indication in his manner or expression that any of the perils he's just outlined might affect him at all. "Original textiles from historical spans of hundreds of years all that show no sign of decay.. There's nothing in physics that accounts for these preliminary observations."

Finally, Hugh looked around. "What do you all say? I can volunteer to take up this shield position of the.. Roman formation? The corridor, or the door?"

Kitsune looked down the hallway a moment, trying to figure things out. It looked to be maybe twenty-five meters in length, with lovely oak paneling and candelabras lighting the way. Two more sets of drapes appeared to the left, while on the right appeared a single door. At the end of the corridor appeared another set of double doors. The floor had the golden runner down the middle bracketed by granite flagstones.

"Well, now, Hugh-sensei, I don't think we need to start to tear apart the fixtures just yet." That hidden, almost shy smile seems to hover around the young woman. "I've found two doorways here, with closed doors. One is on the right side of the hall, and another set of double doors is at the end of the hall."

Kitsune paused to consider things. "I would suggest either Hugh-sensei or I go first, while the other guards the rear, perhaps? Shadow-san and Neko-san can decide who they wish to partner with, and have Nocturne-san, Tapestry-san, and Blitz-san in the middle, since they would be our 'archers'."

Kitsune smiled with her voice, "I'm not a tactical expert, but I've played all of the Final Fantasy games."

"Oh for Christ's sake...", Stephen muttered to himself, just loud enough to be heard. "Everyone's acting like we're all in a horror movie and know it." With that, he lifted from the ground just enough to be floating, the cloak forming legs like those of a spider. "We can stay here forever talking, but someone needs to do something." He steps through the doorway and heads down the corridor to whatever is waiting at the far end.

"If we are in a horror movie of some sort, then I have no plans to sneak off with anyone or by myself, and I think I'll be staying in the armor for a while. I do not wish to tempt fate." Kitsune looked down the hall as Tapestry approached. "I would suggest the door on the right side, personally, since the double doors may just lead to another way out to the fog."

"Hey! Wait for me" Blitz shouted. And with a crack of lightning, Blitz flew off down the hallway, after and above Tapestry. A yellow, sparking lightning bolt trailed behind him, marking the direction of his speedy travel.

"Or we could just walk down the hall like people in an otherwise perfectly ordinary situation," the Black Cat mused, watching Tapestry as he and his costume billowed out of the room. "We should follow him, yes?" He looked to the other five laggards for mutual assent. "He may need help, and very soon." He padded silently across the carpet and out into the hallway, his large frame flowing with a surprising grace.

Misa smiled to herself as she stepped up to the Black Cat and walked beside him. She tried to pay attention to what went on around her, but she knew her limitations.

Hugh, at Tapestry's bold move, cracked a wide smile, and chuckled, in spite of himself. "Well, that at least breaks up some of the dramatic tension," he agreed with the Black Cat.

"Though.." Hugh quipped, falling in with the others moving along the corridor, "since this appears to be a higher level brane, if our tailor gets separated from us in some sort of tesseract, we may never get to the question of matching team uniforms."

As he proceeded, more seriously, Hugh turned toward Kitsune. "Final Fantasy? That's the one with Angelina Jolie, or Mila Jovovich?"

"Uh, neither, Hugh-sensei," Kitsune replied. "They did make a film that was entirely computer animated a few years ago, and they've also released traditional anime stories as well."

Shadow shrugged with a slight smile, glad for once to not be the most impulsive person he knew. Then, whirling his staff into a position just behind his right arm, out of the way and ready to use, he followed swiftly behind the others.

Dylan slid in behind the others, and he was glad to be doing something as well. It had been hard for him to fight the urge to move down the hallway earlier, but her words had sounded in his head. Words of caution from their first meeting. Dylan, we are not meant to lead the charge.

He moved into the back center of the group like an NFL quarterback in the protective pocket of a pass play. He knew enough about the others, now, to determine his place in this team.

"One thing I want you all to know about," he told them as they moved towards the hallway. "I can put up a wall of telekinetic force that will provide some defense to any that stand behind it. The wall is about 2 meters wide by 6 meters long., and it will provide defense against many forms of attacks including mental ones."

"That may come in handy," Kitsune murmured. "I do not have mental defenses as far as I know of." The idea that she was vulnerable to some form of attack didn't really appeal to her.

"My only 'mental defenses' are charm, wit, and an extensive vocabulary," Hugh mentioned, levity leavened with heavy tones of self-deprecating irony.

The scientist ambled after Tapestry's lead, driven by curiousity as much as anything. "Ah. Computer generated movie. I think I remember hearing about that. Thanks for clearing that up for me, Kitsune. Though you do me far too much honor. At best, I'd be Hugh-sempei, I think. If I understand how that all works... Black Cat," Hugh then asked, "where do the medics go in these Roman formations? Not that I still expect to find anything especially hazardous in this direction, based on the evidence at hand.. But I know next to nothing of military issues, and it sounds like an intriguing example of Packing Theory."

"Next to whoever is bleeding," he replied, his brown eyes laughing behind a green domino mask. "The Romans, following the tradition of the Spartans, wore red to disguise their wounds from their enemies. I wonder if we will ever need a medic." At this, the Black Cat sounded more serious, and quieter. "The Catholic in me wonders if we are in Limbo. We are not quite men and women anymore, and perhaps entry to the kingdom may not be ours. If we all have died, would this place not pass for limbo? No place, no time, no electricity, a perfect construction by unseen hands ... I don't remember a crash, but then I do remember driving and then we were here. If I am to spend eternity with six men and one woman in a suit of armor that could be a just punishment for my excesses. This is of course all foolishness - forgive my idle musings." He turned to focus on what Tapestry was doing, and what sort of help he might need.