Change. The team had seen a lot of that over the years but one thing had always been consistent, they had always been backed by Olympian Enterprises. Now even that had changed. With the retirement of Diana Gerrard as CEO of Olympian Enterprises sponsorship of the team had passed to a new corporation established for that purpose. The fact that corporation was founded, and headed, by one of the most notorious businessmen in the world was cause of much speculation.

Those who knew him only through reputation or having been on the wrong side of one of his many corporate takeovers suspected his motives for sponsoring the team to be anything less than pure. Those who had come to know him over the years knew that while he was still He would never be a paragon of virtue but he had shown on numerous occasions he cared about his team. Even if he disliked individual members. What most people didn't know was that Damien Alexander, scourge of businessmen everywhere, was also Brainstorm, the Olympians leader since their previous leader, Dragoon, had retired.

The team's four newest recruits, Babylon, Forge, Mystery Ape, and Veil were no wiser. They had no idea the team's patron and leader were one and the same as they arrived for their first day with the team.

Mr. Vail, dressed in a slate jacket and slacks, wine silk shirt and black tie, arrived at the underground parking garage thirty minutes before he was supposed to be there. One could never predict traffic, or the vagueries of weather, and so he planned accordingly. He'd eaten a hearty breakfast, flossed twice, and just the day before had gotten his hair trimmed at a lovely little salon downtown called "Clipper Cuts". The little faux sails that were fastened to the wall between each hair stylists working area had delighted him no end. And Melinda, his stylist for the day, had been a joy. So chatty, and actually interested in what he had to say about how his day had gone, and what number of blade he wished used upon his head.

Simply delightful.

He exited the cab, giving the driver a 14% tip as was proper based on the timeliness of his arrival and the only moderate detour (no doubt it was a common practice, meant to drive fairs up slightly but still...) that Martine had taken, and straightened his tie. He was about to enter into a brand new realm of existence, and was exceptionally excited. No more lies. No more deals. And at the end, whenever that might be, the chance of redemption. He should have done this centuries ago. He entered the garage, found the appropriate elevator, and pushed the appropriate button.

Delightful

Just as the doors were closing, a man suddenly appeared out of thin air immediately to Vail's left. He was slightly shorter than he and rather scruffy looking. His hair was long and straight and roughly shoulder length and his cheeks carried two days of rough stubble, minimum. The cuffs of his jeans fell over a pair of well-worn work boots and his long-sleeve olive green tee was untucked.

He looked up at Vail with calmly inquisitive blue eyes. "Hello," he nonchalantly said before returning his eyes to the floor display above them as elevator etiquette demanded.

"Good day to you," Mr. Vail replied back. There was a pause as the two men waited for the doors to close. "Excuse my rudeness,' Mr. Vail said politely, "but did you just use the art of translocation? Or were you perhaps invisible? I don't mean to pry, but I find your sudden appearance most astounding." The dark lenses of Mr. Vail's glasses gleamed in the elevators soft light as he regarded the man beside him.

"Translocation..." The man murmured it to himself as if tasting it. "This is good word," he said to Vail. "It is more being quantum inversion spatial folding than trans something, but is good word."

"Quantum..." Mr. Vail began, but both men's attention was captured by a large hand that kept the elevator door from closing completely. The doors reopened revealing a hulking, hairy, barefoot beast in a three piece suit. "Excuse me," the creature said as he squeezed his bulk through the door. "I'm terribly sorry about this." He carefully navigated to the corner, checked the weight capacity of the elevator, did some math in his head and found the result acceptable.

The elevator itself seemed less sure. Its doors started to close, then opened again on their own.

"Think nothing of it," Mr. Vail said softly, mind racing. It wasn't often that his kind encountered something new, and yet here it was. "My word.."

"Oh", the creature said when he saw that his floor had already been selected. "We must be teammates. My name is Augustus. Professionally known as Mystery Ape." The doors thought about closing, then opened again.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Mr. Vail replied happily, extending his right hand. "Though I suspect 'ape' is far from the truth in your case, no?"

"True," the creature said as he returned a handshake that was gentle to a fault, "I'm no more an ape than anyone else, but Mystery Ape has become a name to which I have learned to answer."

Mykola had leaned closer to the behemoth and was studying his head with open-mouthed scientific contemplation.

"Not ape," he concluded decidedly. He waved a flat hand back and forth in front of his own forehead. "Sloping of frontal bone not ape."

To the creature he deadpanned, "You are being one hairy mofo, though, yes."

"One hairy... ? I'm sorry, I don't speak Russian, but I am undeniably hirsute. That much is true."

"Ukranian," Mykola corrected while still examining the beast man. The doors made up their mind. It was time to close. Weight limits were being obeyed, despite the odd distribution. Slowly they crept towards one another as those within chatted.

"My apologies," Augustus said with a smile and a slight bow. "I hope I have created no offense."

Mr. Vail lowered his hand to his side, the smoked lenses of his sunglasses hid a burning gaze much concentrated on the large creature... no... Augustus. He said his name was Augustus, and so Augustus he would be. "I am reasonably certain that I have never met one of your people before," he offered politely to Augustus. "Though we knew of your existence of course. I'm so delighted to see you stepping forward and wading about in the pool of humanity. It's past time."

That caught Mykola up short. He straightened and turned to Vail to ask, "There are being more like him?"

"Yes, whole communities," Augustus said. "To my knowledge I am the only one to venture into the world of man. We're a very private people."

"Just so," added Mr. Vail. "And have you a name, sir,' Vail asked the Ukranian gentleman.

"Cowboy," the smaller man replied with a look and a lip-smack that almost dared anyone to say something about it. "How very extraordinary," replied Vail with obvious pleasure.

Yes! Closure was imminent, and the elevator, were it capable, would be emitting a happy sigh. And then: a brawny arm shot through the gap at the last moment, and the doors peeled back again to reveal a tall, well built young man. He had short dark hair and was simply dressed in jeans, sandals and a white linen shirt. He also wore a look of amazement as he stared at Mystery Ape.

"We must be going to the same place," the new arrival said. He unslung a duffel bag from his shoulder and squeezed into the car. The doors remained open. Waiting. Waiting.

"No!" Mykola exclaimed with annoyance as he was pushed further into the elevator car's corner. "Too crowded!" And then he was gone. Vail looked moderately disappointed, but rallied valiantly.

"Definitely must be going to the same place," the man with the duffel bag said dryly.

"Indeed we must," replied the immaculately dressed man in the suit and dark sunglasses to the newcomer to the elevator. "I am Mr. Vail. This fine gentleman is Augustus," a well manicured right hand gestured towards the immense hairy figure at the back of the car who responded with a slight bow. "The vanishing fellow, I believe he translocated himself just now via quantum something or other, if I understood him correctly earlier, was Cowboy. And you are?" The shorter man was pointed out by the speakers left hand, which had some sort of deformity. The fingers were over long, and the nails black. The mans accent was almost musical, and damned if anyone could really place it.

"Oh, excuse me," the newcomer said, embarrassed for not introducing himself. He turned around awkwardly, bumping his presumptive new teammates with his duffel bag. "I'm Nico Andino," he said, holding out his hand to Mr. Vail. "But you can call me Nick, unless you're my grandmother."

"A pleasure, Nick," the mans hand was very very warm, the handshake firm. The doors moved together swiftly, and the elevator began its descent. There had been enough lollygagging for one day, and besides, it's cables were getting tired.

"Nice to meet you, Augustus." Nick held out his hand and tried to act like he met Sasquatch all the time.

"Well met, Nick." Augustus returned Nick's handshake.

Once the doors were closed the elevator quickly descended. When they opened they were faced with a long hallway which ended in another door. To open that door they had been told they would need to speak their name, their voice prints having been recorded prior to their arrival.

Mr. Vail stepped out and strode across the hallway. He stopped before the door, cleared his throat, and announced "Mr. Vail," the name rang with subtle tones that could only be described as 'silken'.

"Mystery Ape," Augustus said inhuman resonance.

"Babylon," Nick said. "Working title, whadyya think?"

*****

Mike had alerted Damien when the recruits entered the elevator to the base. He had chosen to meet them here because he still had some work to do on the new HQ, and with the revelations he was about to make it was certainly more secure here.

Damien closed his office door and secured the helmet to his armor. He was still fighting with the production team to make the damn thing more comfortable, it tended to pinch in all the wrong places.

He waited patiently at the entrance door, waiting to greet the new arrivals. The rest of the team were supposed to be gathering in the conference room as well, but he wasn't sure who was actually in the base. They'd all reported in, but Damien suspected only one or two would actually show up.

It seemed like an eternity before the base door opened. When it did there were only three of the new recruits present, Babylon, Mr. Vail, and Mystery Ape. Zlenko, or Cowboy, as he was proudly calling himself now, wasn't present despite Mike detecting him in the elevator. "Welcome to the Olympians' base. This is only our temporary home, but its been our active base for over a year now. I trust you've gotten a chance to introduce yourselves. I just have one question, who ate Cowboy?"

One elegant brow raised above the smoked lenses of Mr. Vail's glasses. "He vanished from the elevator. Perhaps a touch of claustrophobia?"

Damien didn't remember any indication of claustrophobia from his earlier encounter with Zlenko, but that didn't mean he couldn't have missed it. What was more likely was the man was worried about the weight capacity of the elevator . Damien suspected he would have a proposal on his desk in a few days with recommendations on how to increase the load and efficiency of the elevator, along with probably 30 new security measures because Zlenko was able to bypass them, blindfolded, in his sleep.

"Possible." Damien replied. "Obviously, I fell flat on my attempt at humor. Good morning." Damien extended his armored hand to Augustus. "We haven't met yet. I'm Brainstorm."

"Augustus Silver", the dapper Sasquatch said as he offered his hand. "AKA Mystery Ape."

Ah... there it is, thought Mr. Vail. But how have they met? He said nothing, merely watched the armored man and the Sasquatch shake hands and considered himself fortunate to even be there.

"Good to meet you. You're our resident forensics expert, I hear. Glad to have you on the team. We can all learn something from you I'm sure." Damien replied to Augustus.

"I'm sure we all have expertise to offer, and I plan to do my part."

"Excellent!." Damien replied.

Damien turned to Mr. Vail and Babylon. "Good to see you two as well. Mr. Vail, there's a pot of that coffee you sampled in the conference room, fresh and warm. Babylon, I'm glad to see the re-assignment finally went through. Bureaucratic red tape is such a nightmare."

Vail smiled, but seemed a bit confused. "Would you like me to get you a cup?"

Damien laughed, the modulator making it somewhat of an electronic squeal. "No, that's not necessary. I mentioned it only in case you wanted some."

"You are too kind," Vail demurred. "I am fine, but thank you."

The door to the security hallway closed as Damien was speaking. Damien sighed. "We don't have to wait for Cowboy to join us before we continue. The base isn't exceedingly large, but it's sufficient for our needs at the moment, so the tour will be brief. Are there any questions I can answer before we begin?"

*****

As they walked toward the conference room, a small woman walked out of the rec room holding a half-eaten fish stick. Her hair was platinum with brown stripes. Her bodysuit matched this color scheme. "Oh!" she looked surprised. "Greetings, Gentle..," She tilted her head at Augustus a second as she finished, "men."

She shook her head half-heartedly and continued. "I'm Osprey. Welcome aboard!"

"Thank you, Osprey," Augustus said with a smile. "What an impressive space you have here. I had no idea there would be so much headroom. I usually have to hunch over when I'm indoors, but look at me standing fully erect." The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he had said. Oh well, dignity was overrated.

The woman had been around enough men to know she should just let that pun (intentional or not) drop. She bit another piece of her fish stick instead.

"Oh hoh!" Vail chuckled at Augustus' remark. "Thank you for coming to meet us," he directed to Osprey. "It's so very exciting to meet new people when one starts a new endeavor, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course." she smiled warmly. "I like meeting new people anytime."

"Well said," Nick smiled.

Damien glared at Osprey, which after a moment he realized would have been much more effective in his old costume. Instead, he cleared his throat, the voice modulator in his helmet turning the sound into an electronic growl. "Shouldn't you be in the conference room with the others?" He asked pointedly.

Osprey glared back at Brainstorm as she chewed. It was a surprisingly effective glare for so small a woman. She swallowed. "I was there. I will be again soon." She held up what was left of her snack. "I got hungry." She popped the rest in her mouth and walked into the conference room.

Paul sighed as he stepped out of the elevator into the security hallway, having just missed it a few minutes earlier. Just as well, it had looked crowded when the door closed. Damn traffic... he had meant to be early, but no, every frigging traffic light between his apartment and the base had it in for him today. And the old lady who insisted on going 32 in a 35 zone was the last straw. Damn speeding ticket. His Olympians ID had garnered no sympathy. Didn't help that the cop was one Paul had gotten busted down from detective a few years ago with some compromising photos. Damn cartel boss hiring him to ruin the detective's rep. Damn smug, smirking bastard cop.

Paul sighed. "Deep Freeze," he said, the door swooshing open. Today is so not my day. And naturally, they're all here, as he saw everyone standing in the hall just outside the conference room, about to go in. Wow, what a freak show we are. Paul smirked at the thought despite himself.

"Hey boss," Paul directed toward Brainstorm as he walked up to the group. "Sorry I'm late; traffic was a bitch." Paul grinned at his leader, making no attempt to conceal his thoughts - amusement at the odd bunch gathered in the hall (himself included), the events that had made him late, regret that Widow was gone. Why bother? He trusted Brainstorm because Brainstorm had treated him fairly, given him a fair chance to prove himself. That, and Paul knew it was pointless to try and lie to a mentalist.

Damien nodded at Paul. Good, at least he'd shown up. Damien was beginning to worry. He knew Gypsy would be here, and hoped Brina would be able to make an appearance, but only having Osprey from the established team would have driven Damien insane. Paul at least was grounded, and had proven himself.

With a grin, Paul looked the new guys over, piercing ice-blue eyes glinting with good humor. He wore dark blue fatigue pants and combat boots with a dark gray t-shirt sporting a Fight Club logo. His wavy black hair was getting long, walking a fine line between edgy or shaggy. "This should be interesting. Hey, I'm Paul. Good to meet you guys."

"And you as well, Paul. I am Mr. Vail," the well-dressed man with the near black lenses replied, extending his right hand.

"Mr. Vail." Paul nodded and grinned, shaking the man's hand, then pausing, a curious look on his face. "I'm sorry, have we met? You seem oddly familiar." Catching Brainstorm's faceplate aimed vaguely in his direction, Paul broke off and stepped toward the conference room. "Uh, perhaps later. Best not keep the boss waiting."

Damien didn't want to get held up in the hallway, they had a lot to cover today, and he was a little tense about the coming revelation. Too many people already knew the secret, and here he was about to expose it to four more potential leaks. What the hell was he thinking? He knew what he was thinking, that at some point he was going to have to trust these people possibly with his life, and secrets always got in the way.

Damien gestured into the conference room. "If you all have a seat, we can get started."

Mr. Vail found a chair along one side of the table and took his seat. He removed his sunglasses, revealing dark eyes with glowing crimson pupils, and placed them in his inside jacket pocket. Then he folded his hands together across the top of the file and watched as everyone settled in, affable smile never leaving his face.

The conference room was fairly utilitarian, consisting of a large oval conference table, with enough seating for 12. The chairs were all comfortable looking, and there was even one that was obviously custom made for Augustus. The Sasquatch sat gently in the chair. He had too many chairs fail on him in the past. It held, and he relaxed.

In front of every seat but two, were thick black and silver folders. Damien moved to stand behind one of the two chairs without folders, and waited for everyone to choose their seating Interested to see how their choices reflected possible team dynamics.

Paul didn't hesitate. Anticipating that Gypsy would be the one to take the second seat without a folder, he sat in the chair to the left of Brainstorm, his mood turning to a serious demeanor. He had no problem being the leader's left-hand man.

Osprey was already in her seat, near the end of the table, tapping the folder in front of her rhythmically and absent-mindedly. She nodded warmly at Paul when he came in and smiled at the new recruits. She still didn't feel right in this conference room without at least one of Tribe present. While they dated he always managed to be there for her. Then again, that would not be hard for a duplicator.

Paul nodded back, cracking his cool exterior for a moment with a slight smile in her direction. He still didn't know much about Osprey, but she'd proven capable in combat, and that was a good start. He found himself starting to miss his absent comrades - Widow, Tribe, Percy, even Will - but he pushed the thought aside to focus on the now.

They were settling in when two more women entered. The first through the door was a petite woman standing no more than five foot, three inches. Wavy, red hair hung to the middle of her back and her piercing green eyes were full of humor. An air of confidence almost tangible around her as she took one of the empty seats, smiling at and acknowledging each of the newcomers in turn, if she was surprised at the bigfoot in their midst she was doing a good job of concealing it.

The other woman was nearly her opposite. Standing at six foot, two inches, she towered over her companion making the shorter woman seem even smaller. She stopped just inside the door and studied each person inside for a moment. It was impossible to tell what she thought of the gathered group as her hazel eyes traveled over each of them. She seemed no more surprised to see a bigfoot than the shorter woman but her eyes did settle on Vail slightly longer than the others. Her scrutiny complete she took a chair away from anyone else. For his part, Mr. Vail returned her gaze pleasantly, crimson eyes studying her as she was studying him.

Damien was heartened to see both Gypsy and Brina enter the room. Gypsy's choice of seating spoke volumes about her mood. She knew where Damien wanted her, and she deliberately chose to disregard it. Damien also recognized the fact that she'd done something similar when he first joined the team. He smiled as he remembered his very first meeting with Gypsy. That could definitely have gone better.

No, Damien was quite satisfied with her choice. It served a purpose, and in some ways amused him more than it bothered him. Besides, Paul's choice was more than sufficient. It showed solidarity. Damien clapped Paul on the shoulder, then moved to get things rolling.

Osprey noticed Gypsy was being a wallflower as usual. She hadn't learned much more about the much taller woman since joining this team. She knew only what she remembered from when they first met when Barbie was on another, ill-fated team. Of the intervening years she only knew that Gypsy had obviously run this team very well.

Lastly, the casually-dressed man from the elevator walked into the room, having apparently waited for the next car. He saw there were four seats left unoccupied, walked over to one, and sat. After doing so he looked about and his eyes found Gypsy. His "wife" had been a beautiful woman but this one put all others to shame. He caught his mouth hanging open and closed it with a snap. Then he tried hard not to stare.

Gypsy watched the late arrival with the same scrutiny she had given the others upon her entrance. Her eyes hardened at his reaction but otherwise didn't react.

Damien stepped in front of his chair, drawing attention to himself. When he was sure he had everyone, Damien addressed them. "Welcome again. It looks like everyone who could make it, did. A round introductions are in order." Damien indicated Brina. "This wonderful young woman is Dr. Brina McBride, who has generously and graciously consented to continue in her role as the physician and counselor for the Olympians. Be nice to her gentlemen, she is the one who patches you up and tells you when you can go play again." Damien swept his arm to indicate the recruits, pointing each out. "Dr. McBride your newest guinea pigs. Augustus Silver, aka Mystery Ape, Mr. Vail, Nick Andinos, aka Babylon, and last, but not least, Cowboy. Care to say a few words?"

Brina smiled and shook her head. "Nothing but the standard I don't want to see any of you in my infirmary if it can be avoided bit. I know this can be a dangerous job but don't take any foolish risks out there."

"Sage advice," Augustus said, "and this is a topic I would very much like to address. Risk would seem to be unavoidable in this line of work, but protocols should be in place to ameliorate risk as much as possible. This, of course, is neither the time or place to iron out such protocols, but I would like to go on record as setting this as a priority."

Damien nodded. "Thank you Dr. McBride. Augustus, we can certainly parking lot that idea for later development. I agree, though I also have to admit that the best laid plans rarely survive beyond contact with the enemy. Often, we have to fly by the seat of our pants. Team building will certainly be on the agenda, along with 'combat training', criminology, first aid, etc."

Paul couldn't help but smirk sardonically at that. In his time with the Olympians, not a single fight had gone just the way they'd been planned. Fortunately, they usually ended up working out well for the team. Mostly.

Barbie leaned back, thinking that Brainstorm was making sense. Though she wondered if she would be drafted into teaching some sort of combat class.

Nick waved a hand. "Excuse me," he said. "Should I take it, then, that there are no such protocols currently?"

Damien acknowledged Nick. "There are, however, the protocols were designed around a team dynamic and experience level that no longer exists. It will be up to us to work the new paradigm out. I have some ideas on how to do that and I am completely open to suggestions as well. The first thing we'll have to do is familiarize ourselves with each other's strengths and weaknesses, and working out strategies to best accentuate the former and minimize the latter. That however, is a topic for another time. Today is to formalize your acceptance, and a general introduction. Trust me, in the next few weeks, we'll all know as much about each other as we can handle, probably more than we want." Damien chuckled. Oh that was too true.

The door handle to the conference room jiggled a little followed by a thud against the door. A second later, the door handle jiggled again... but this time it unlatched. The door opened, and Victor apologized as he walked through the door. "I am sorry Sir, for being late," he said as he quickly sat in the first available seat.

Damien sighed at Tetris' arrival. At least he'd shown up, that was a plus. Damien privately wondered how much of the absent-minded professor shtick was act or real, but had decided it didn't really matter much. The man's talents and expertise had proven useful.

"Ahh Tetris, Glad that you could make it." Damien replied smoothly, keeping his annoyance at the tardiness behind his shields. He turned to the new recruits and indicated Gypsy. "The taciturn young woman amongst you is Gypsy. Her official job title is liaison to our corporate sponsor. She is the closest thing we have to an original Olympian on the team, having been through several iterations. She is also the closest thing we have to a soul in this organization, and I value her for that. Please do the same."

For her part Gypsy nodded at each of them, her expression never changing.

So, thought Vail. ...the soul of this team is a beautiful woman who says nothing upon arriving, and is as expressionless as a marble carving of the Madonna. Not even a 'hello'. Or a smile. She certainly did respond to Cowboy's appreciation of her appearance though... quick to anger? Vail smiled winningly at all the newcomers, including this Gypsy and her short companion, his enthusiasm undaunted in the least.

The doctor returned his smile broadly without hesitation. Her expression and body language welcoming. The taller woman met his gaze and held it, her face remaining expressionless. After a moment the corners of her lips turned up in a barely perceptible smile Vail almost missed.

Damien continued on, knowing that Gypsy's lack of reaction was as much reaction as he would get, publicly. Damien motioned to the folders in front of everyone. "If you will, the folders in front of you contain your employment documentation, spelling out the terms of your acceptance to the team, several non-disclosure agreements that protect the team and our corporate sponsor.

Technically we are all employees of our corporate sponsor, but act as an autonmous entity. AIST provides our funding, our salaries, our toys, our benefits package, but we do not report to them. Nor do they report to us."

Damien paused. "Feel free to look over the documents. You'll find an option to donate your salary to a charity, in your name, or anonymously, if you prefer. I hope you'll find the salary and benefits package to your liking."

Paul quirked an eyebrow, smirking at the whole idea of "donating" as he opened his envelope. Yeah, he enjoyed being the hero and helping people, but even heroes have to eat. Getting paid for being a hero was way better than the "good" old days of earning his salt on the mean streets. Besides, he even got to rub elbows with high society on... Paul stopped mid-thought, snorting aloud as he noticed the job title.

"B... seriously? Dishwasher? Are you fuckin'..." Paul snickered, then threw his head back and cackled. "Oh my god, that's freakin' awesome." He chuckled and shook his head as he started filling out the paperwork. "Too damn funny..." he muttered, scribbling in his address.

Barbie simply smirked at her teammate's reaction and her own matching job title. She then quietly began filling in a P.O. Box and an almost even mix of both accurate and "layered" contact information and legal information. She was inwardly relieved at the salary. She won't have to pawn her autographed action figure after all. After all, she'd had worse actual job titles in her time on the run.

"Deeshwasher?" Mykola flipped through the paperwork and focused in on the job title. With a sigh he asked, "How many deeshes is required? If I build machine to wash deeshes double my quota can I get excused?"

Nick turned in his chair to observe Cowboy. "Russian?" he asked. "Or Ukrainian?"

"Ukranian," came the reply, but Mykola's eyes remained focused on Damien and he tapped the paperwork with a finger. "How many deeshes?"

"I suspect," said Mr. Vail slowly in flawless if melodic Russian, "that the title of Dishwasher is simply a placeholder." He smiled. "Though one should never look away from an opportunity to improve one's cash flow. I applaud your ingenuity"Knight and Day

"Cute," Nick said. He added, more to himself, "I'll have to learn to speak Ukranian." He smiled in anticipation of learning a new alphabet.

"It is not a placeholder, Mr. Vail." Gypsy said in musical English. Her accent was heavy and like nothing any of them had ever heard before. "It is the title all the Olympians but the very first have held. Even Brainstorm is the team dishwasher."

Damien bit back a laugh. He decided to hold off a moment, to allow Gypsy to shine. "This ought to be good." He stage whispered to Paul.

Paul snickered and grinned back. "I think I just got my new victory quote - 'Dish, you got washed!'"

"Some sort of in-joke, or honorarium?" Vail asked. "Superhero not being a valid job description on any government tax document I've ever seen, and I assure you i've seen hundreds of thousands, one assumes you are simply filling a blank here with something easily defensible in a court of law" Vail flipped through the documents before him with a VERY well-seasoned eye. "Unless Mr. Storm spends his 40+ hours a week in a kitchen?"

"I do not know but it is a . . ." Gypsy paused as if trying to think of the word, "tradition. That is the job title Star gave everyone who was not on the team at the beginning."

"Ah," Vail replied, looking up from the folder in relief. "I must explain: it is imperative, if not linked to my very existence, that at this point I be honest in all things." He waved with his left hand at the documents before him, the elongated fingers giving the hand the appearance of some large bird-of-prey's talons. "Even something as simple as these documents must be absolutely true as their contents relate to me. Otherwise what I am attempting fails." He sighed happily. "I apologize if I have offended or seemed argumentative." 

"Then I suggest you wash a few dishes now and then," Osprey told Mr. Vail. She then addressed Gypsy, "I think it's a clever way to keep our identities secret on official papers. If anyone accidentally learns that I work here, that is the explanation I will give them, at least at first."

"Just so," murmured Vail, settling back in his chair. 

"That is not the reason Star did it. He thought it would be funny." Gypsy replied.

"If not dishwasher, Mr. Vail," Augustus said as he studied his paperwork, "what title would you prefer?"

"I have no preference, truth be told," Vail replied politely to his new teammate. "It simply must be factual. Provided I actually do as the young lady suggests, things will be fine." 

Damien cleared his throat. While it was humorous to watch the recruits have to work around Gypsy's eccentricities, Osprey's reply had pissed him off, and it was time to re-direct the meeting as it were.

"Mr. Vail. I understand your concerns. The title is a custom, and as our final member of the team would suggest, you are in fact responsible for washing dishes, every single one of them ... that you dirty. Isn't that right Mike?" Damien addressed the room in general.

Mykola recognized the voice that answered from speakers set in the ceiling. "Every last one of them. I won't tolerate any more slobs around the base."

Paul piped up, more amused than indignant. "Hey now, Mike. I apologized about the ice wall on the sofa, the nacho cheese explosion in the microwave, and the icicle spikes in the walls. It wasn't my fault I had to sneeze! And I did help clean up. At least I don't leave my dirty gym clothes piled in the locker room like Will did. Man, I swear I could see the stink wafting off of those shorts..."

"Capital," Vail replied, hands once more folded upon the stack of paperwork before him. 

"What is our jurisdiction?" Augustus asked. "Local? Federal? International?"

Damien nodded in approval. "We have Federal police powers, however, we have no real 'jurisdiction'. We co-operate with the locals and work in conjunction with the local branch of the National Meta-human Response Team. Our general scope is the city of Tampa, the outlying areas, and likely the lower half of the state. We have a 'sister's team in the Jacksonville region. They're not funded by our sponsor and our paths haven't crossed yet, at least not 'professionally'.

"What does cooperate mean?" Nick asked. "Who gives the orders?

Damien sighed. He hated questions like this, because it showed just how dis-organized the group really was in relations to 'law enforcement.' "That's a grey area." He began. "Since we don't technically have a place in any chain of command. So co-operate means just that co-operate. If we call them in and they let us maintain point, then we 'give orders', if we get called in, then we follow. Usually the locals will let us handle any meta activity. It's only the 'mundane that really walks the fine line. Good question and something we'll have to work up protocols for as well. Like I said, we've been pretty much flying by the seat of our pants."

Nick nodded. That sounded all right. Of course you could waste time in grey areas, but after six years of working for Uncle Sam he was looking forward to some fluidity. 

After the initial round of Q&A was finished Damien held up his hand to forestall any additional questions. "We can certainly work through this parking lot later. Today is pretty much about getting the paperwork out of the way and introductions to the rest of the team. We have a ton of work left to do, I'll be the first to admit. However, I have one very important thing left to go over, and it pertains entirely to the paperwork you all have in front of you. Has anyone not finished filling it out or signing everything?"

Mykola looked at his packet, looked back at Damien, and then shrugged and turned to the last page of the contract.  He grabbed a pen off the table and started signing.  He didn't know what it said but he really didn't care.  It couldn't put him in a much worse situation than he already occupied.

"Okay, I am the signing," he said with resignation as he flipped through the papers. 

"I, too, am the signing," Augustus said as  he took pen to paper.

Vail had been carefully and methodically going over the documents before him, page after page, crimson eyes flicking back and forth. "This all seems to be in order, and I see little deviation from the comments you have made today." He took up the pen in his right hand and actually giggled. "My word, to think that I, of all people, am signing a contract." He shook his head and signed with a flourish. 

Paul eyed Vail askance at his comment, almost looking like he might say something, but shrugged slightly as he finished signing his paperwork and closed the folder.

Osprey pushed her signed contract a few inches away from her, then clasped her gloved hands together and looked up to Brainstorm with a face that seemed to quietly say, 'impress me.' She guessed that the rest of this meeting would be very boring.

Nick looked askance at the others. He would have preferred to have a lawyer read this contract before he signed it. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Damien watched impassively as the paperwork was signed. His stomach clenched and his nerves were on edge. He was minutes away from an irrevocable action. He gathered the contracts and with a practiced eye, flipped through to make sure everything was signed properly. He paid particular attention to the NDA's.

Once he'd re-assured himself that everything was in order and that he was as protected as he could legally make himself. Damien took a deep calming breath and let it out. He reached out telepathically to Brina and then Gypsy. I'm about to reveal, please keep a very close eye on the reactions. He was silently acknowledge by both women.

"What I'm about to show you is the primary reason behind the strictly worded NDA's I had you sign. Nothing from this point further leaves these walls, or the secure grounds of the new base once it's completed." Damien said. Despite the modulation, his voice seemed stressed. "During our first meeting, Cowboy brought up a very salient point. Our entire relationship is one that has to be built on trust. As has been pointed out to me often in the past, you have to give trust in order to be trusted. So, in that vein ..."

Damien reached up and pressed the hidden latch release to his helmet. With a soft click, the face plate swung forward enough for Damien to easily lift the helmet off. He placed the helmet on the table in front of him and gazed around the room. His steel grey eyes blazed with defiance as he stood revealed to the room.

Augustus said nothing, but smiled. He never dreamed he would have so much to report to Mr. Verrech so soon. Still, there were many lots left to be connected. Perhaps he would sit on this for a bit.

Osprey looked up at the unmasked Damien for a moment with an open mouth, any gasp was silent. Then she scowled and made an audible huff, blowing at her own bangs as she mumbled, "Figures."

Her reaction got a long, cold stare from Gypsy. It was obvious she was being told to keep her opinions to herself.

"Do any of you have a problem with this?" Damien asked.

Nick looked around the table, checking the reactions of the senior members. Nope, he hadn't been imagining the tension in the room.

Barbie looked back at Gypsy. A battle of willful looks began. This battle surprised Osprey. Gypsy had changed since they first met briefly years ago. She glanced at Damien and at Brina before staring back at Gypsy again. These were the people running this organization. "A rich guy running things?" She shrugged. Barbie had been on the run for several years now. She knew the seamy side of nearly every eastern U.S. city. She'd seen how some people preyed on others. "No different from everywhere else in the world."

It wasn't long before Barbie had to look away. When she did Gypsy spoke. "Unlike some people in this room Brainstorm is doing this to help others. I think those who are doing this only as a whim should not comment."

The scathing remark made Barbie look up again from the table, "A whim?!?" Osprey bolted up out of her chair. Making a rare show of her extreme brand of anger, she yelled. "If I didn't want to help people, I'd be hiding in some men's club or even working for some corrupt group!" Her open hands flexed against the tabletop, threatening to dent it. "I'm here to do the right thing with my skills!"

For her part Gypsy had made no move to get up and appeared just as relaxed as when she had first sat down. Only those who knew her well could see the slight tension indicating she was ready for a fight if it should occur.

Damien slapped his open hand down on the table top. "Enough!"

Nick stirred uncomfortably in his seat. But he was a newbie. It wasn't his place to get involved in this. He tried to catch the eyes of some of the other new recruits and see what they were making of the confrontation.

Paul seemed unconcerned by the sudden upswing of tension in the room. He'd gotten used to dealing with strong personalities over the last several months. He trusted Brainstorm and Gypsy to handle the situation, because he'd seen them do so before. It wasn't that Paul was particularly close to either of them; if anyone, Percy had been the closest thing to a friend he'd had after joining the Olympians. But he respected them both, and they'd been there to back him up a couple times when he needed it. That was enough for Paul to follow their lead. Hell, he'd follow Brainstorm into Hell itself - the man had enough chutzpah to get them back out alive. Probably.

Brainstorm and Gypsy could sense Paul's sardonic amusement at Osprey's current situation, though Paul's face carried no hint of it as he gazed at the angry heroine.

Mr. Vail watched the conversation between the ladies with interest, then looked back at Brainstorm expectantly. "Yes?" he asked politely, waiting for the trust-building item the masked man had previously mentioned.

A small smile graced Damien's lips. Thank whatever God or whoever for redemption minded fallen angels. "Mr. Vail. Do you know who I am without the mask, what I do when I'm not being a member of the Olympians?"

"I am afraid I do not, Mr. Storm. My apologies, but my access to information has been severely curtailed since leaving my former organization. I would be grateful if you could enlighten me, and again, forgive my ignorance, I mean no offense." 

"No offense taken Mr. Vail. Given your unique circumstances, I can certainly understand your confusion." Damien turned to Osprey. "Since you obviously know who I am and feel strongly about it, would you care to enlighten Mr. Vail, and the others, about what you know?"

Barbie looked at Damien, her face falling. She glanced at each of the recruits in turn and then looked to Gypsy. She appeared rather embarrassed. She sat down again, seeming to calm herself through will or brief meditation. She then addressed the table, "I've been asked to introduce Mr. Damien Alexander, one of the richest men in the United States. He is known to use ruthless business practices at times and has a reputation as a womanizer. As Brainstorm, he has been a capable leader on missions." She then looked to Damien submissively, awaiting his evaluation of her introduction. She knew his type too well to do otherwise.

"Yes, yes, da da da da da..." Mykola added softly yet impatiently.  "This I know.  But what is big announcement?  The suspense it is killing me."

Paul blinked at Mykola a couple of times, then snorted and chuckled, choking off a guffaw.

A soft chuckle came from the speakers before it was quickly cut off.

Barbie stared at Mykola a moment. She blinked. She glanced around the room. Then she grinned widely and slapped the table, causing pens and other objects to bounce from the jarring impact. "Good One!"

"As I fancy myself to be a master detective I probably shouldn't admit this," Augustus said with a chuckle, "but I for one did not see this coming, Mr. Alexander."

Damien smiled. He knew the joke was on him, but he was experienced enough to run with it, despite the fact that his pride was severely tweaked. "Then Mr. Silver, I've done a sufficient enough job keeping my secret. A secret I might add, you all now share and must be equally vigilant in keeping. Let me impress upon you the importance of this. First, the NDA's you signed were designed specifically to keep this, the identities of your compatriots, and any other 'trade' secrets you learn, such as the location of this base safe."

Damien paused a moment to let that sink in. "This is where I'm trusting you. As Damien Alexander, I've made more enemies than I can count. As Brainstorm, I've made even more, and just being a member of this team, I, we, inherited yet more. Should even one of these enemies learn that Damien Alexander is Brainstorm, the potential harm to the team, the corporation sponsoring this team, and the hundreds of thousands of regular people who I employ/have employed is ridiculous."

Damien turned to Mr. Vail. "In our initial 'interview' I said to you that this team has come to symbolize redemption to me. I'll elaborate. As Damien Alexander, I've done things in my past that were reprehensible, I've done it in the name of greed, lust for power, and to protect what I'd gained. I'm not proud of this fact, nor will I excuse it. It's done, I cannot change it, nor would I. Because, without my past actions, I could not be in the position I am today, a position to not only make amends to society for the wrongs I've done, but to prevent others from doing even more heinous things."

Damien made eye contact with Gypsy, and nodded slightly to Brina. "It took a long time for me to get to this point. It was journey that I fought with every fiber of my being, and I still find myself fighting the changes, the growth that I've made." Damien smiled slightly. "I'm not a nice guy, I'll probably never be a nice guy. But with your help, your trust, I hope to at least be one of the good guys."

There was a raw genuineness to Damien's words, a vulnerability that no one in the room expected. Those who had the ability detected no falsehood in his words, no sheilding of the emotions behind them.

Augustus said, "That's very compelling and you have my sympathies. In fact, I'm willing to overlook some of your flaws as well as those of our teammates..." Augustus displayed a broad, toothy smile that was almost human. "...as long as you're all willing to overlook mine."

"Do my little eyes see a theme amongst us then?" Mr. Vail said softly, his smile rueful. "And as I mentioned in our interview, Mr. Alexander, I can smell a lie like a terrier a rat. Your words chime with earnest truth, my good man. As one old sinner to another, I salute you. Should the temptation ever become great to tread once more upon those darker paths, I offer a shoulder to lean on, a hand to pull you back into the light." 

Vale's ember gaze swept the room. "Of course, this applies to everyone in the room. None here know better than I the extremely lucrative wages of Sin." He beamed his Hollywood grin at all and sundry. "And, I'm told that I'm very easy to talk to." 

Mykola had a confused look upon his face as his head swiveled between Vail, Damien, and the others as they spoke words that, while he understood the general idea of the sentiments, the dialogue was fairly over his self-taught English head.  Nevertheless, he decided to see if he couldn't press on.  The general idea he was getting was something akin to masturbation.

"Soooooo... Are we going to kick bad guy asses today or can I be the excused?  I would like for to get the deesh washing early out of the way."

Damien chuckled, the humor registering in his eyes. "Soon enough, Cowboy. Soon enough." Damien reached under the table and pulled out a previously secreted briefcase. A few seconds later, he was passing out the contents. Each person received a small box, approximately the size of men's leather wallet. The box was black, and in silver foil was the AIST logo, and the receiver's name. Everyone at the table received one.

Damien pulled one out and placed it in front of himself, closed the brief case. and replaced it smoothly in its hiding spot. He opened the small box in front of him and spun it around. "Inside the box you'll find your Offical Olypian's ID, current members get new ones, your first month's pay in the form of a Prepaid visa, and a new communicator. The communicator is just a temporary piece until Cowboy designs us a better one. The communicator puts you directly in touch with our communications officer, Mike, who can route you in one on one communication, or broadcast to any or all of the rest of the team. It is voice activated, there's a panic button, and built in gps tracker. Any questions?"

As Damien spoke he pulled out a small rectangular device. It looked like a slightly beefier version of a standard bluetooth cell phone headset. It was a matte black, with no discernible buttons or lights on it. The ear piece projected slightly from the underside, and was topped with an moldable gel/foam. Damien fitted his into his right ear, taking a few moments to allow the foam to seal. It was barely visible as it rested along the slope of his ear.

Nick followed Damien's example. Hell, this was better tech than he'd had in the army.

"The GPS can be turned off?" Gypsy asked.

Damien met Gypsy's gaze. He'd known this was going to come up. "Technically, no. However, there is a stealth/sleep mode, that alerts Mike to not actively track the gps signal. It puts the gps into a 'receive mode', meaning it won't actively report the communicator's location, unless turned back on, the panic button is activated or you answer, or initiate communications." What Damien didn't say was that it would also respond to an inquiry ping initiated by Mike, as long as the device was in range of any cell tower. The only three who had authority to initiate the request were himself, Brina, and Gypsy.

Gypsy didn't say a word but by the look on her face Damien knew he would be talking to her later.

Damien quirked an eyebrow at Gypsy, then nodded, acknowledging her protest. He doubted this discussion wouldn't end well, but he was adamant. With the new system, he could better respond and get to a teammate who needed assistance. The whole kidnapping incident was too fresh in Damien's mind. Not mention the encounter with Wildcat. He'd given her a way to stay private until an emergency occurred, but both times Gypsy had fallen victim, and her penchant for turning off her GPS had made locating her in time extremely difficult.

He just hoped he could get her to understand. He had no plans on tracking her through it, but he wanted the option should it become necessary. IF he could make it somehow mandatory that they keep the communicator on their person at all times, Damien would have, but he couldn't enforce it. Nor would he want to. There's a difference between controlling the team, and leading it.

"Cool!" Paul opened up his ID and looked it over, then tucked it and the Visa into his back pocket. He then tugged the old communicator out of his ear and turned it off before setting it on the table and inspecting the new one.

Barbie opened her box, trying not to show any emotion. The new communicator looked just like a cell phone earpiece with a microphone built into it. She ought to get a new cell phone to match. She frowned slightly as she examined her ID. At least it did not label her as a dishwasher. 

Mr. Vail had also been carefully inspecting the items before him, his smile full of wonder. "Well bless my britches," he kept saying over and over as he touched each item. First the Visa, then the communicator, then the Visa again. "Bless my britches." He reached into his back pocket and removed a slim black leather wallet. He carefully placed the plastic card inside, the replaced the wallet. The communicator went snugly into his ear. All this done, he sat back and beamed at those around him. "Delightful." 

"A quick question vis-a-vis this Mike person," Gus said. "Your comment regarding him would imply that he is always available. Am I wrong in assuming this, or do we in fact have the poor gentleman chained to a switchboard?"

"Ah, finally! Someone who recognizes the conditions I have to work under." Mikes voice echoed from the speakers. "I think I'm going to like you."

Gus raised a heavy brow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Michael. Tell me, sir, should we always assume you are eavesdropping?"

"Michael, I like the sound of that. Yes, I monitor all communications and all activity in the base unless it is in one of the private quarters. I only monitor those if requested by the occupant." Mike answered.

"Good to know, good to know," Gus said, "and may I deduce from your localized omniscience and omnipresence, coupled with the technological nature of your service, that you, Michael, are not a biological being?"

"You would be correct. I knew I was going to like you." Mike said.

"You're...a computer?" Nick asked. "Wow. And hello."

"Technically I'm an Artificial Intelligence. Think Data from Star Trek the Next Generation or the Doctor from Star Trek Voyager." Mike sounded offended as if being a mere computer was beneath him.

Damien smiled as he watched Augustus and Nick interact with Mike. At least that 'relationship' was starting off decent. It was interesting to note that in a few short sentences, Augustus had put the prickly AI at ease. Damien still didn't have that knack, but then he wasn't regularly a likeable person. He shrugged inwardly. He and Mike had their own understanding, it was up to the rest of the team to come to their own with him.

Barbie turned the bank card over in her hand a couple times, then held it up to ask Damien, "This rechargeable?"

"Why would need recharging," Mykola asked.  "Is plastic card."

Barbie just looked at Mykola. She had grown up on another world and met arriving aliens, but she had not seen anyone so unfamiliar with things in years. She wondered what planet Mykola was from. "I'm wondering if the account can take deposits as well as withdrawals."

"Oh," he replied with a shrug.  "Then just be saying so."

Damien replied to Osprey. "Actually it is refillable, I can certainly have your wages transferred to the card you hold, or an account of your choice, just let me know what you prefer and I'll get it arranged with the HR department. This is more of a 'signing' bonus. A way to make sure there's as minimal interruptions while the rest of the arrangements are made."

Mykola put the cards in his back pocket and removed the communicator from the box.  He studied the thing over Damien's ear and then did the same with his.  It fit comfortably and easily and he had to admit the usability factors were high.  He touched the empty box on the table in front of him and it vanished to the sound of a rattle from the wastebasket across the room.

He pointed to it and said to Damien in a really loud voice, "It is fitting very well," while he gave his new boss a thumbs-up gesture.

 "You know, I haven't been this excited since... well... I just couldn't say when. It's all very thrilling!" Mr. Vail said to everyone and no one. 

"Uh," Augustus said "My communicator keeps falling out. I'm afraid I'm going to need a larger ear piece."

"Wait, give it me."  Mykola took the large... man's earpiece and studied it for a moment before he studied the ear it was supposed to fit.  He reached into a pocket and brought out a hand-sized soft-sided took kit from which he extracted a screwdriver and tweezers.  He stopped, sighed, and got up to retrieve the box he'd dumped into the wastebasket and set about removing the hinges.

Damien had reached for another small box at Augustus' words, having anticipated the issue and several other foam/gel packs of varying sizes, a first attempt at providing for the differing needs of his team, but stopped, fascinated with Mykola. He'd seen the results of some of the inventors devices, but had yet to witness his particular form of genius.

Paul had fit his new communicator into his ear and was working on his smartphone, trying to get it register the communicator as a new bluetooth device.

"Hey Mike, how do I... uh..." Paul paused, blinking at Cowboy. "...The hell?" Entranced, he watched the teleporting tinkerer, trying to figure out how he was going to get it to fit the sasquatch's ear using the parts from the box.

By then Mykola had spread out before him the box, it's lid, the wadded satiny insides, a narrow hinge, four tiny hinge screws, and the remains of the pen he had used to sign his documentation and disassembled into its component parts: two halves of thin threaded metal tubing, a small spring, the clicky dohickey, and the plastic tube of ink tipped by a fine ball point.  The speed at which his hands worked was not superhuman but still impressive and reeked of experience performing such simple tasks.

The parts were arranged neatly in a semi-circle around the communicator device itself.  Mykola looked them over carefully as his finger danced from piece to piece and he mouthed his thoughts to himself.  Then he promptly slid down underneath the table.

Paul blinked at where Mykola had ducked under the table, then looked over at Brainstorm with a mystified "WTF!?!" look on his face. Oh, for want of a camera...

Nick laughed, and scooted his chair back to look under the table.

Barbie uttered a startled, "What the Fuh!" as she quickly set her knees together and prepared to respond to any intrusion from beneath.

Brina raised an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth twitched up in amusement. She didn't quite laugh but anyone who had known her for a while knew she wanted to.

There came an "ah!" from under the table and Mykola crawled out and stood up to point at Mr. Vail.

"You... I need shoelace.  Give it me," he asked with an impatient rolling of his hand in a give-it-me gesture.

"Give it to me," corrected Mr. Vail good-naturedly. "Proper diction is important," he admonished gently, then bent and undead one of his shoelaces. He passed it across the table to the Ukranian and watched, wondering just how this would turn out. 

Mykola took it in his hands and stretched it out in front of his eyes as he scrutinized it carefully.  Finally he looked back at Vail and said with a half-smile, "Yes, yes... please and thank you."  He nodded once at the Victorian and then sat back down.

"Technically, both are acceptable," Nick said, his eyes still fixed on Mykola's handicraft.

Turn that, bend this... the lace strung through both tubes... the ink sleeve twisted and run through the spring... a tiny awl punch in both tubes... fitting of the tiny screws...  Mykola's hands moved with a deftness and singular focus which was impressive.  He never stopped to think, he just moved from piece to piece.   Clicky thing between the unfitted tubes... A knot tied tightly at one end of the wax-covered shoelace... satiny wadding-padded film across the bent pieces... careful wrapping of the remaining shoelace slack...

Mykols held his work up and studied it.  There was now a long curved extension to the unit that seemed the perfect size to be hung over the giant ape's oversized ear.  The engineer tested the flexibility of it once, twice, with his hands and then ran a finger along the shoelace-wrapped curve.  The wrappings of the waxy string were spaced out about a quarter inch apart showing the satiny box lining underneath.  It was about as aesthetically pleasing as it was going to get, but not bad a bad job overall.

He held it out to the big man.  "It is not pretty," Mykola declared, "but it should stay put, yes?  We can make pretty later."

"Thank you," Augustus said as he took the makeshift device from Mykola's hand. He hung it on his ear where it stayed in place and caused him no trouble. "It's not the prettiest thing, but it is effective. Which is much how I view myself now that I think of it. Thank you again, Mykola, not only for this now treasured possession, but also for your awesome display of skill."

Paul blinked at Mykola, then blinked at Augustus. He looked back and forth between them a couple of times, still blinking. Then he turned his astonished gaze to Brainstorm.

"Holy shit on a stick, Batman."

"Language," interjected Mr. Vail, holding up a slender finger in admonition. 

Paul then chuckled and grinned at Mykola. "That was awesome! Next time I have a B&E, uhh... I mean, recon mission, I'm coming to you for my gear!"

"Yes," Mykola responded, and then again to them all.  "Yes, this I do, this what I bring onto table.  I can build things, many things.  I am a good scientist, mechanic, engineer, and so on.  You need something and I can build if I have materials."