“Is there anything else I can get for you Miss DiSantiago?” Everything about the waiter was subservient, from his slightly slouched posture to the obsequious tone in his voice.

“Would you please remind the hostess that I’m here and to let my guest through when he asks for me? And please be as subtle as you can manage when you bring him to me.” Ophilia’s tone was distracted at best as she gave the server his instructions, already thinking about her upcoming meeting with Soldier Boy, completely unsure what to expect. This wasn’t what she had in mind when she’d mentioned an interview after their first brief meeting, but when she got the impression he wanted to eat, she made sure to get their name on the list of one of Hudson City’s most elite eating establishments.

The waiter bowed and gave her an unctuous smile, waiting for a heartbeat to observe how much she would appreciate the table’s perfect setting before he retreated.

Ophilia repositioned the water that he gave her, mostly out of spite, wanting him to think that she really cared whether he put the glass two inches right or two inches left of her wrist. Normally she wouldn’t do such a thing but this restaurant irritated her, it always had and for the most part it was the ingratiating part that the staff played. One critic had described the food at the Maison Continentale as a mix of continental dishes and American favorites, that was beyond five star. For this DiSantiago, however, it was nothing more than a hodgepodge of memories made up of forced dinners with extended families and a few really bad dates. Without fail, the more boring the man the more money he would spend on dinner, and there were few restaurants in this city with a higher price tag.

The atmosphere was genteel. A jazz combo in the corner played such a light and inoffensive form of music that it almost qualified as a lullaby. The sound of a few dozen conversations merged into what amounted to a polite mumble. That peaceful scene was shattered by a loud, belligerent voice from the direction of the hostess station.

"I have to wear a fuckin' tie? Like hell!"

The hostess raced across the dining area as quickly as her insensible shoes could carry her and intercepted her manager near Ophilia's table.

"Mr. Parker, there's an old guy up front causing a scene. He's big and nasty, and I think he might be a little touched in the head because he's dressed like Soldier Boy."

"Like Soldier Boy?" Mr. Parker said with distaste. "Doesn't anyone have respect for the dead any more?"

The two of them marched up front to deal with the situation and were soon around a corner and out of sight. The genteel atmosphere returned for a moment and then was shattered once again by the same belligerent voice.

"Kiss my entire ass!"

Upon hearing the brief exchange, Ophilia stood up gracefully from the table and walked with slow dignity towards the front of the restaurant. She truly didn't know what to expect and visibly winced when she heard an outburst from the lobby, she knew immediately that it was the infamous Soldier Boy.

When the small but self assured form of Ophilia DiSantiago stepped into the lobby, everyone took notice. She cleared her throat in a disdainful manner and leveled the manager with a glare that was straight out of the DiSantiago handbook, Gods Among Men . "I hope there isn't a problem."

Without even waiting for a response she turned her attention to Soldier Boy and favored him with one of her most beautiful smiles. "Soldier Boy. I'm so glad you could make it." He was still glaring at the manager over her shoulder as she closed the short distance between them and offered him her hand.

Soldier Boy saw how the restaurant staff deferred to this tiny slip of a woman. Fear and respect were written on their faces. He used to get that kind of treatment... once upon a time.

"Would you like to stay here and eat? I'm sure they'll be happy to make it up to you? ...or would you prefer that we go someplace else? My car is outside." Her voice was quiet but carried easily to his ears, and from the open expression on her face he couldn't really tell which of those options she preferred.

"Hell, we're already here, so this joint will do," Soldier Boy said. "They ought to have at least one thing worth eating."

"Of course we will be honored to have both of you," the manager said, "but could I offer the gentleman one of our dress jackets? He may feel more appropriate than dining in just his costume."

"Costume?" Soldier Boy drew uncomfortably close to the little man and looked down on him. "This is a uniform. A uniform is something worn by people who serve a function, who do their duty. A costume is something you wear when you're playing pretend. This... is... a... uniform."

A bead of sweat ran down the manager's forehead and he squeaked out a nervous little fart which he adroitly ignored. "Well, a uniform is always appropriate. Jennifer will show you to your table and I will send over a bottle of our best wine."

"Two bottles," Soldier Boy said.

"Two bottles it is, sir."

"And a scotch rocks."

"Indeed."

"And keep 'em comin'."

The manager swallowed hard, possibly sensing a recipe for disaster. "Of course."

Jennifer smiled and motioned for the two dignitaries to follow her. Soldier Boy offered Ophilia his arm. "Shall we?" The pretty brunette took his arm and allowed him to take the lead.

Ophilia had remained perfectly placid on the outside, supporting each of Soldier Boy's request with an authoritative nod of her head when the manager looked at her with his pleading gaze. Inwardly though her stomach was a mass of nerves, she felt like the puppy she was suppose to play with tonight had turned into a lion that needed taming. She was horrified to admit it, but the more she dealt with these super hero types, the more she was wondering if Diva's and Rock Star's were really as bad as she had previously thought.

It only took a few minutes before they were both settled into their table. Ophilia took another moment to appreciate the fact that it was relatively secluded. To say that everyone at the restaurant was interested in the obstacle that Soldier Boy made, would have been an understatement, they were agape with curiosity, and the fact that he was with a DiSantiago had more than a few tongues a wagging. She was absolutely certain that her name would appear in the gossip column tomorrow, and while she loathed that prospect, she wasn't going to allow it to color her upcoming interview with the team's trainer, any more than it already had.

Ophilia took a long drink of her water before leaning over the table in a friendly manner. "I really am sorry about that. I should have given them a bit more information about my guest." She smiled at him warmly as she expertly took the blame for something that she knew wasn’t her fault. "To be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"I'm glad you decided to call me back, I wasn't sure if you were ready to retire from the business all together, or just from the Army." The waiter came by just then and began making a show of preparing their wine.

Soldier Boy grunted out a laugh. "I didn't want to retire. That decision was made for me. If it was up to me I'd still be out there cracking skulls for the red, white and blue. You know what? I'm not going to dick around with you. I made a lot of phone calls before I called you back. Established hero teams. Teams with history and prestige. They all passed. Fucking Guardians didn't even return my calls. I'm here tonight because you picked the short straw. So, whatever it is you have to offer me I'll probably jump at it because I'm out of options."

What struck Ophilia the most about Soldier Boy's tirade was not the bitterness in his voice, or the lack of respect he showed her. The thing that really stuck out was the fact that he made his entire speech while staring at her breasts.

It took a few moments for Ophilia to digest all that Soldier Boy had said, and she hoped that her delay would get his attention on something other than her cha chas. She felt caught between the hero's brazen leer and the stare of the waiter who hovered near by, waiting for a break in the conversation so that he could swoop in and take their order. "I'm not interested in anybody's short straw, Soldier Boy. As a matter of fact you are the first person I've come to in regards to the position that I'm looking to fill. You poll very well among certain age groups, and with a little more visibility, I think that Soldier Boy could be a name on every American's tongue again."

"Certain age groups?" Soldier Boy said with a laugh. "I'm not sure I want to know which ones."

One of Ophilia's thin eyebrows quirked in a daring manner, silently asking him if he wanted her to elaborate.

Soldier Boy sat up straight and exhaled deeply. "You know what Miss Santiago, this has been a hell of a month for me, and I guess I'm not taking it well. Guess what I'm trying to say is, I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have popped off on you like that. Trust me, I'm not usually that big an asshole."

A warm genuine smile slid slowly across Ophilia's face. Some of the nerves that had been building up since they first met dissipated with his apology. She was fairly confident that she could believe him, after all, how could he possibly get any worse than what she had already seen. "I'm relieved to hear that, because I'm not always this nice. And the wrong combination could bode poorly for our relationship"

"Why don't we take care of Jeeves here so he can run back to the kitchen and rustle up our grub."

"Yes, sir," the waiter said with a slight bow. "I'm quite skilled at... grub rustling."

Soldier Boy quizzed the waiter about the steaks on the menu, the age and breed of the cow, the specifics of the cut and how the meat was aged. He settled on a medium rare rib steak with a dollop of garlic butter. Ophilia echoed his order, asking for her steak medium well, and for her potatoes smashed instead of baked.

"Now then," Soldier Boy said, "what kind of hero team are you hoping to throw together here?"

Ophilia nodded her head at his question as she tried to decide where to begin her proposal. Now that she knew that Soldier Boy didn't want to be retired and had been actively looking for a Super Hero team to join, it changed things a bit. It was certainly possible that he was expecting an invitation to be on the team and she could sense that she would need to be delicate in her approach.

"The team that I envision will be a mixture of capable heroes and pretty faces." She held up a delicate hand to stay any objection that he might have before she could finish. "My family will be funding this endeavor, and in order to pay the salaries, there are certain stipulations that I must keep in mind during my recruitment process. The team will be a publicity tool to a certain degree for DiSantiago Pharmaceuticals and their charitable outreaches. That aside, I don't plan on letting a pretty face come before a capable hero. All of the Heroes will be screened and interviewed, and you will actually be able to help me select our team. I will have the ultimate say...but I will relent to your superior judgment and knowledge in most cases."

"I certainly hope so," Soldier Boy said. "A pretty face is fine and dandy, but there's some personality types that just don't belong on a hero team. A team has to be made up of people who are bold and confident. Timid, sensitive types just don't cut it."

"Right now, I'm trying to recruit you for the most important position on the team. My gut tells me that you may not think similarly, but your job would be to shape each and every one of our recruits and help turn them into Heroes. I would like for you to be the Team's Trainer." She saw Soldier Boy's mouth drop a bit and hurried on quickly. "You would help select each of them. You know the pitfalls that they can expect. You know the fanfare and emotional strain it can have on their families. You could mean the difference between success and failure in every one of our Hero's lives, and in turn, our Team."

This was a kick in the jewels. Team trainer? Soldier Boy thought about Smitty, the grizzled old son-of-a-bitch who trained him back in the day. Sure, Smitty was a great guy, and Soldier Boy respected the hell out of him, but Smitty was also the cranky old guy who had seen better days. He was kind of a joke, the local character. Soldier Boy wondered if that was his fate now, if that was the only role left for him.

"I have already selected the team leader and I'm confident that you'll be very impressed by him." The glimmer of light that lit in her eyes, suggested that she, at least, was very impressed by him.

"If he's so impressive maybe you can have him train the team," Soldier Boy said with a forced smile, trying very hard to be polite... by Soldier Boy standards. "I'm an A-list superhero. I'm a headliner, not support staff. What's the deal anyway? You think I'm too old for field work? I may not have the juice I used to have, but I can still beat the crap out of any super in this city. I mean it. Bring me a super and I'll kick his ass right here."

Okay, maybe not so polite, but Soldier Boy was frustrated. This was not what he had in mind. This would not do at all, but he had no place else to go. So the wheels started turning, working on an angle to make this gig work.

Ophilia's gift of empathy soaked up what Soldier Boy had said and much of what he didn't say. She could feel his frustration, determination and pride swell to the point that she wondered how he had contained his outburst as much as he had. When she spoke her voice was soft but firm. "I don't need you on the team, I need you to shape the team. None of my other candidates, including the leader has the experience and know how to pull that off. As a matter of fact, there were only a handful of heroes that I could find that could be considered for this task. It’s that you are too valuable just to be on the team."

"I appreciate your interest in being a headliner, but you are running low on juice. I'm actually in a position to help you with that." She paused and gave him a look, wondering how stubborn he actually was and how close he was teetering to his emotional breaking point. "...but if it really took me bringing you a Super that you couldn't beat, to get you to stand down. Then I'll be glad to do that. If you win, you can be on the team. If you lose, you swallow your pride and train our team." It might have been an interesting proposition, but in Ophilia's mind, there was no way he could win against either of the challenges she had in mind.

Soldier Boy had to process that. Did he imagine it or was this pretty little suit really getting ballsy with him? Either way, she had just become a whole lot more interesting. "I'm always in the mood for a tussle," Jag said. "Who and what do you have in mind?"

Ophilia's face went blank for a moment, it was truly unfortunate that he wanted to go this route. She wondered if his pride could take getting beat, but then again, perhaps it was better to strain his psyche now rather than later. "Well...if you were to insist and are serious, I would produce to you someone that I see as a potential team member. Simple as that. You win, and you really think that you're better suited as a headliner, then you can be on the team. You lose, you accept the position as the team trainer and enjoy a handsome salary, plenty of perks, publicity opportunities and a chance to really be proud of something again. OR You could skip the fight all together, keep your pride and take the job." Her tone was flippant, she hoped that he chose the easier way, but if he didn't she was prepared to answer his challenge.

He laughed. "My pride is tougher and more callused than my hands. I can take whatever or whoever you can throw at me. Bring it on."

Brown eyes that had been docile a moment before hardened in response to his challenge. "Oh, for Christ's sake. What is it with you hero types?" Ophilia immediately regretted showing her mood, it was rare for her to let people see when things weren't going her way. But, her attempt at calling his bluff, only to find out that he wasn't bluffing, hadn't worked out as well as she had hoped. Now she found herself in a precarious situation, either she would have to give up her secret identity and kick his sorry ass...or... She groaned.

"Okay. Let's enjoy our lunch and we'll deal with this after. I'm going to need to make a phone call or two." Then she grinned at him, a devilish glint alive in her dark eyes. "You may not be the only one getting their ass kicked tonight.