07-26-2008, 01:43 AM
Tales of the Legendary
BARBEQUE PASTICHE
I said I'd do it a week (or so) ago, I'm just now getting around to it. No stories were harmed in the making of this
compilation, and if you want something changed or whatever just let me know. I put them in in-story chronological order. Source material from
here (going forward).
It all began innocently enough... (by drogan niteflier)
"Hot dogs and sausages for the boys, steaks and hamburger for Bella..." Reyshal ticked off the items on her mental list as she passed them over to
her helper. She had elected to go shopping for any who asked, and had fortunately been given an expense card for the Legendary to cover the bill. It was
looking to be a beautiful day out, and she wanted to get back out with her friends to enjoy it. She looked over at her helper and went down her list again,
marking off everything. "It looks like that's it. I'll have to try to see if I can make Manoru later, though it will be hard finding a good fish
to substitute."
She headed for the checkout counter, her helper following behind, when she hear a crash and stifled screams from that direction. Shaking her head, she stepped
to the front to see three hellions riffling through one of the cash registers while a pair of fallen gunners guarded the entry.
Reyshal shook her head, crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat loudly. The hellions paused in their looting and turned towards her, their faces
paling.
"Now then," She said, gesturing for her Sing to place its burden into a nearby cart. "Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way?"
Of course, some had to be show-offs... (by Sofaspud)
The grassy park was dotted with family picnics and BBQ grills -- the holiday weekend combined with beautiful weather and only a 20-percent chance of Rikti
invasion had drawn residents from their homes like bees to pollen. There were gas grills, charcoal grills, solar grills, and even a few superpowered grills, if
one counted flame-based heroes showing off as a viable heat source.
Even with the profusion of appliances dotting the park, one grill in particular stood out. The Legendary had staked out a nice grassy knoll upon which to
congregate, and brought their grills along. Several smaller examples were scattered about, being tended by whoever cared to cook. On one, Terrence Knight and
Mag Flashlight debated the merits of straight grilling versus beer-soaking for sausages, while examples of their subject sizzled merrily away. On another,
Numero Catorce was carefully watching his asada. Nearby, Bella Fuego primed the coals for a grill that looked to be dedicated to hot dogs and hamburgers. But
the biggest grill of all was unused, gently smoking to itself as the coals caused the air above it to shimmer and dance. By itself, it was eye-catching,
painted in blue and gold and comprised of a 55-gallon drum split lengthwise and welded together. But that was hardly unusual. No, this grill was even stranger.
Clamped to the back of the grill was a set of thick planks, set at a 90-degree angle to the bed of softly glowing coals. They were unadorned except for a
series of concentric circles charred into them, the largest being about six inches in diameter and the smallest perhaps an inch. The gathered crew blinked
curiously at it and talked amongst themselves quietly.
"I'm sorry I'm late," a voice said, and a moment later William Bishop III puffed up the slope, his ever-present bow slung over one shoulder
and a bulging sack of groceries in his arms. "There was a line at the store." He dropped the supplies on the folding table near the grill,
straightened his back, and stretched briefly, before organizing the contents of the sack into several neat piles. It appeared to have all been prepped
beforehand; there were neat cubes of meat, peeled baby onions, cleaned mushrooms, and other less identifiable bits and pieces. Bill turned to regard the hungry
crowd and blinked.
"I didn't realize there would be so many here today," he commented. "I'm going to need some help if we're all going to get to try my
recipe. Hmm." He perused the gathered heroes for a moment, then smiled. "Purrfect Archer, Pooky, would you two be so kind as to assist me? I'll
show you how it's done and you just follow my lead."
Puzzled but willing, the two edged their way forward. Some of the gathered teammates who had been to one of Bill's cookouts before grinned conspiriatorally
at each other, knowing what was coming next.
"Alright then!" Bill declared. "The coals are hot, it's time to get crackin'. Watch closely, you two, it's an easy enough trick but
you need careful timing." So saying, he whipped out his bow and a fistful of arrows, slammed a fist down on the table (causing the piles to jump a few
feet in the air), drew, and let loose.
FwipfwipfwipfwipTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD.
"And that, sir and madam, is how it's done," Bill drawled, as the arrows plunged through the ingredients and slammed home, dead-center, on each
of the planks, vibrating gently. The impromptu shish-kebabs began to sizzle invitingly. "You up for it, kids?"
Others were passionate about their subject... (by Wiregeek)
The toughest part of the Legendary picnic, in my lights, was the lizard. I'm not sure how I got elected caretaker, but it's a job I take fairly
seriously..
Still, how do you keep a combat trained, unnaturally voracious lizard from ruining a picnic, especially when she's been blessed with the intellect of a
fairly advanced dog..
The solution, when I finally figured it out, was simplicity itself. 3 gross of one-size-fits-all disposable cotton gloves, a VERY confused delivery driver, and
an XXXXL cooler with seals tight enough to hold odor in..
"No, it's not about the existing flavor, Terrence - the beer marinade adds to the overall effect, and the choice of available beers allows a variety
of flavors with a single meat.. hold on."
I popped the cooler open and snagged a 20 pound deer roast. I handed it to Terrence, who had put on a fresh pair of the gloves, and pointed. He stretched back
and Hurled the deer haunch, and the meat missile blew Gen clean off the top of Bella's grill, where she'd been trying to figure out how to open the
lid.. whilst sitting on it. Delighted squeals came from Gen and some of the kids in the park as she tumbled across the sky, wrapped around the deer meat and
happily destroying it, before she splashed down in the lake.
Nodding my thanks, I returned to castigating Terrence on his unreasonable rejection of beer marinade as a sausage preparation..
And some were simply supremely skilled... (by Ankhani)
It was truly a sight to behold. As many heroes as you could fit on a grassy hill were all to be found. The picnic was quite a hit between all the members of
the Legendary. Several had brought out grills to show their skills, or enjoy the skills of others, as a cook.
... "See that steak over there? Looks done to me." Pooky said, while notching an arrow tied to a string. Bill, beside him, was to busy lining up
another row of kebobs to hear. With a dual *THWIP* both released their shots, and hit dead center...
Some even shared their techniqes to others preparing simmilar dishes.
... "Just -listen- for a moment, Terrence: the marinade adds another entire dimesion to the flavor of your meat, it adds new combinations to cook."
Mag was busy explaining. "No, it doesn't. The beer just masks the flavor of a good cut, it is a waste of meat to simply saturate it with somthing
else, and cover up any natural flavor. It detracts from the art of grilling." Pointed out Terrence...
Over all, Amberlee was quite enjoying the spectacle. After a taste of one of Bill's kebobs, she had wandered over towards Mag and Terr to see what they
were arguing over. Both saw her and smiled. They both began devising that if they could win a convert, he would have won out over the other. After discussing
and demonstrating their process, they each gave her the finished product for tasting. Once she had tried both, they looked at her expectanly. She grined.
"Well, you both do have good skill there, but still, I think I would prefer -our- way." The two looked rather dumbfounded for a moment. The muffled
thud of Emet's heavy footsteps on the grass sounded, coming closer. Her golem was wearing an apron and chef's hat, and carrying a large platter with
only a few pieces of meat left on it. Braende was not far behind Emet. Brae giggled and faced the two tanks. "...And looking at how many have been eaten,
people here seem to agree with us."
Safety, of course, was paramount... (by Sweno)
Lisa was happy to leave the preparation of meats to those with skill. She knew her cooking talents began with the microwave and ended with things in boiling
water. Being a helping hand was enough to feel useful, and on certain topics she could be enticed to provide input.
Currently Lisa was keeping an eye on the smoker for Bella. But once Terrence had wound down a bit in his prohibitionist stance on food preparation; she planned
on discussing some beer marinades with Mag. Just because she didn't have the skill to do it herself didn't mean she couldn't put her rather
extensive knowledge of fermented barley to good use. Lisa had always wondered if a good marinade could be made from a nice chocolate stout, but could never
bring herself to sacrifice the ingredients on the necessary experimentation. Perhaps Mag could be convinced to lend his skills to a first attempt.
Lisa wasn't entirely focused on culinary experimentation. She also did a little preventative work. Being around to irradiate the steaks also prevented
possible food poisoning for those who insisted that 'still mooing' or 'flame kissed' were perfectly fine levels of cooked.
And surprises were the game of the day. (by alaskanime)
Genau'Goeg stumbled out of the lake, picking her teeth with a single claw and belching mightily. She had polished off the entire deer roast before
she'd even hit the bottom of the lake. Her gigantic hunger sated, Gen could think more clearly as she looked around at the activity around her. Focusing on
Mag, she smirked a little - I am not as stupid as you think I am, Mag Flashlight she thought. Indeed, she had recently memorized a few invention recipies, and
was working on more.
Her capacity for learning was incredible, but her efforts had been and still were stymied by her lack of communication skills and her still child-like brain.
The only time that wasn't an issue is when she awakened the Warshade essence within her - an often painful and sapping experience. Her subconscious mind
still equated the presence she sought to help with the dominating powers of Karegu'Rhia, her former captor. Still, looking around at all of her friends
gathered in one spot, she felt a twinge of guilt. These people had done so much for her - raised her as one of their own with a gentle and supportive hand,
trained her into an effective weapon against the tides of evil. She wanted to do something more for them than just dispatching the occasional horde of
Cimeroran Traitors.
"Wake up, Iau..." Gen whispered. "Gen need help."
Yaaawwwwwnnnn...What is that incredible collection of aroma particles suspended in your nasal cavities? asked the
dormant warshade.
"...Gen thinks she knows what that means. It called barbeque. Many people cook over fire."
Yes, I see now. Flesh of various mammals, coated in a mixture of water, molasses, spices...and processed pork products
marinading in a high-quality malted beverage. The warshade's words were punctuated by flashed mental images in the back of Gen's mind, a sort of
alien-mind-meld-come-word-association game the two of them played. It reminded her a little of her "fast-track" learning on the Dra'nan
homeworld. She shook off the sudden nausea and reminded herself that this creature would never harm her.
"Gen want cook, too. Gen not just killing machine." She pouted a little and moved into the sunshine to dry out, her normally blue scales swirling to
black, her buckled leather armor seemingly melding into her skin and vanishing as purple patterns crawled across her body like snakes, coming to rest in her
familiar warshade colorations. She denied the warshade full control, however - she was going to need her wings for this one.
"We work together on this, okay?" she whispered to the warshade inside her head.
What did you have in mind?
Gen merely smiled before shaking off the remaining droplets of water and taking flight.
--
The look of shock on everyone's face was priceless.
Genau'Goeg came in low, bearing the burden of a brand new Weber grill, lighter fluid, and charcoal in her claws, her purple and black hide glinting in the
sun. She set up her own station next to Mag's, grinning toothily at him as she began to set up like a pro. After she had started the coals, she grabbed the
still shocked Mag by the shoulders and turned him towards the grill.
"Watch this. Gen be right back."
The wind from her wings was enough to send paper cups and plates flying in a white whirlwind as Gen climbed skyward and disappeared. About 5 minutes later, she
returned, several bags of groceries dangling from her claws. Mag backed up a little as she alighted on the grass and started digging through the bags.
"W...whaaaaat??" he stammered. Gen looked at him and flashed a sharp-toothed grin.
"Surprise." was all she said as she pulled out some giant portabella mushrooms, a jar of minced garlic and butter. She made a shooing motion at him,
and he realized he was standing in front of the grill. He backed up a a few paces, still dumbfounded. Gen threw 10 of the big, juicy mushrooms on the grill and
produced a small clear Pyrex bowl and a small barbeque brush from one of her shopping bags. She threw in a stick of butter and some of the garlic, placing the
bowl off to the side on the grill where the coals weren't as hot. The butter melted quickly and soon Gen was brushing the mixture across the mushrooms.
Yes, that's right...just like you saw the others do with their meat... Iau'Nosi said reassuringly in the back
of her head.
Gen smiled and removed the hot Pyrex bowl from the grill with barely a flinch, placing it on a conviniently placed potholder on a nearby table. She smiled and
looked at everyone who had gathered around.
"First round mushy-rooms done soon. Gen make lots more." She motioned to the bags, overflowing with giant portabellos. "Eat up!"
Some things, of course, being more surprising than others. (by OpMegs)
To say Inyme was...not exactly getting the state of this "barbecue to 'relax'" thing was...something of an understatement.
Most people looking at her body language, hidden beneath the red and white armor she'd adopted when Alice had invited her to some kind of social visit with
friends, would have thought she was bored, annoyed, or just generally cool and serene.
Those people were not aware that Inyme's inner thoughts were something akin to nearing blind panic.
Intellectually, Inyme had known that Alice was a member of the Legendary, a group that the Rikti had become well acquainted with before Inyme's
infiltration. A group that, as a rule, Inyme had avoided contact with at all costs in terms of upper tier missions except with those so psi-dead that Inyme
could scream obscenities in Ancient Archival Rikti at them and they'd never even subconciously flinch. Which wasn't to say that the woman, Gamma
Emission, was that dull. Her boyfriend, on the other hand....
However, here she was in her original, mostly unshielded armor, lacking the elaborate and effort saving psi-baffles that concealed her thoughts from other
telepaths, and standing in the largest concentration of heroes she'd ever been near, several of which were telepaths that could match or exceed the Rikti
Mentalist baseline average. While Inyme thought at least somewhat highly of her own skill at evading detection, that large of a threat that she was, by social
obligation, unable to flee from, and the cataclysmic danger it offered to her mission, were steadily driving the very ordered and calm Rikti infiltrator ever
closer to running screaming from the gathering out of hope it would be LESS suspicious than one of the various psions scattered about actually detecting her
thoughts and realizing what she was.
Which was when Alice handed her a large object to hold. Inyme looked down, seeing a plastic bowl of ingredients. The catgirl looked apologetically at her, and
Inyme realized through their mental link that she was being asked to mix them up properly. Considering the situation, she had a small moment of clarity as she
recalled one of her oldest training instructions, where the instructor had said that concentrating on a step-by-step mundane process was more effective to
hiding ones deeper thoughts than any particular psi-shielding could ever be, by drowning them out in mental static.
Nodding, she went over to the table next to some large commotion around a lizard person cooking some sort of fungus...she wasn't really sure...and began
mixing the ingredients. Having at least some experience with human cuisine, Inyme blanched slightly at the taste she imagined this was going to make, and
discreetly borrowed several ingredients from Gen's tray via telekinesis to add to her burgeoning salad. Having, purposely, put the rest of the party out of
her mind, she continued focusing on it to the point of distraction. She didn't even notice when someone started physically handing her containers and
spices instead of them floating to her hands. Or that she'd begun making far more than one particular bowl. Her memories were rather directed to the past,
and one of her favorite foods from her young childhood, before her life had gone to hell. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be close, and for a very
homesick young Rikti girl, it would be enough. It was only about a half an hour of focused cooking later that she looked up to find a bowl so she could sample
some for herself that she noticed at least a dozen people were already eating bowls of their own. If Inyme's thoughts could be summed up in one expression,
it probably would've been "!", especially when several people began congratulating her on such a great piece of food. Relaxed far more than
she'd been earlier, Inyme actually managed to deny her self-conscious tendency to keep her helmet on, hiding her human-disguised face, and actually enjoyed
her own work. It had, indeed, come out just about perfectly, barring ingredients that had no counterpart from the Rikti Homeworld.
It was only a few hours later, when she was alone at home and savoring the afterglow of her culinary triumph that Inyme realized she'd recreated a
traditional Rikti dish in almost exacting detail, and recited the recipe she'd made on the spot to several people who'd asked, around a supergroup
whose members included dozens of Vanguard members and at least one Rikti defector, if she recalled correctly.
The psionic shriek was muffled and dispersed by the safeguards built into Inyme's apartment, but still disturbed pigeons all they way over in Grandville,
gave telepaths all over the East Coast a vague nagging head pain they couldn't pin down a cause of, and cracked the glass face of the analog clock Alice
had bought Inyme as a gift. In hindsight, it was perhaps telling that the latter distressed Inyme more than the previous results, or even the realization
itself.
After a meal, of course, comes dessert. (by Sofaspud)
The outing showed no signs of winding down, even as the day stretched into mid-afternoon and beyond. The grills were quiet, now; they might be fired up again
if people stuck around long enough, or might not. The sheer quantity and variety of food brought forth and prepared today boggled the mind.
That said, Katy Kaboom remarked to herself, there was a dire lack of a certain type of dish, one that was, in her mind, absolutely essential to a picnic or
barbeque of any sort. And since her *grilling* skills left something -- well, a lot -- to be desired, she'd seen fit to bring something else to the party.
Something *fun*.
She got to her feet, suppressing a most unladylike belch -- Gen's mushrooms were heavenly, and she'd eaten more of them than she should have, she
realized -- and made her way to the prep tables near the grill area. People were scattered all over, talking quietly, dancing to the drumbeats of Pooky (and
the boombox on the ground next to him), tossing a frisbee, or just soaking up the sun and digesting. It was the perfect time.
She reached into one of her compression pouches, ignoring the weird crawling sensation as her hand vanished into the depths to a distance much farther than the
pouch was deep, and groped around until she found the object she was looking for. With a grunt of effort, she drew forth...
... a large, boxy, metallic object, about a foot on each side and twice as tall, rectangular and covered in stickers and service panels. The front had an
opening just about the right size to admit a large cup, with a flexible hose ending in a wide-angle cone (with oddly-positioned blinking lights) attached in
what could best be described as unholy matrimony. Katy set the thing on the table with a thump and set about disconnecting the trunk-like projection, humming
softly to herself as she worked, her free hand flipping the Leatherman it held between and around her fingers like a sideshow performer rolling a coin.
"Say, that's a neat trick," Yukiyo put in from behind. Katy jumped in surprise, then flashed a grin over her shoulder.
"If you're talking about the pouches, I can't take credit for them," she replied, pulling a wire free with a sharp tug and splicing it back
in somewhere else, so fast her fingers were nothing more than a blur. "But if you're talking about Betsy, here... you ain't seen nothing
yet!"
"I meant what you're doing with the Leatherman," Yukiyo said, then blinked. "Betsy?"
"Mm-hmm." Katy gave Yukiyo a mischevious grin. "And you're just in time to help me!"
"Ooh! Okay! What do you need me to do?"
Katy handed Yukiyo a large cup from the stack balanced precariously nearby. "Hold this." She reached into another pouch, frowned, tried a third, and
finally found what she was groping for in the fourth, drawing it forth easily. It rattled and clanked, and Yukiyo frowned in puzzlement.
"Katy, were those --"
"Yep!"
"So that machine is a --"
"Yep!" So saying, Katy set her burden down, grabbed the hose from her contraption, and held it out towards Yukiyo. "Ready?"
Yukiyo looked at Katy, at the cup in her hands, at the machine, back to Katy, and nodded eagerly. "Sure!"
"Power on!" Katy cried, and pressed the trigger.
FWOOOSH.
When the fog cleared, it revealed an embarrased-looking Katy Kaboom standing with a frost-covered hose in one hand, the other covering her mouth. Of Yukiyo,
nothing could be seen, save her eyes blinking in startled shock behind her glasses. The rest of her was covered in a rapidly-melting coating of... shaved ice?
"I'm SO sorry, Yukiyo!" Katy cried. "I forgot to swap out the combat pump for the regular one." She grinned weakly and displayed a
small, complicated-looking device in one hand.
Mag Flashlight ambled over -- the sudden wash of cold air having caught his attention, the sight of a Yukiyo-sicle guaranteeing his interest -- and tapped
thoughtfully at the snowy mass. He rolled it between his fingers, sniffed at it thoughtfully, then nodded. "Food-grade shaved ice... uniform
consistency... no shards, just pellets... nice work, Katy." He nodded, the approval of one craftsman to another. "Couldn't do better
myself."
Katy blushed. Yukiyo made a strangled squeaking noise from within the snow mound, then shook herself, the snow sliding off and plopping to the ground.
"KATY!" she yelled. "That was SUPPOSED to go in my CUP!"
"I fixed it, I fixed it!" Katy replied. She triggered it again, and this time it worked perfectly, filling Yukiyo's outstretched cup with a soft
mound of glistening white. "Okay! I have cherry, grape, lime, banana, and watermelon. What flavor?"
Yukiyo looked down at her cup, then turned her huge, glistening, puppy-dog eyes on Katy. "All of them?"
Katy grinned and waved her towards the syrup rack. "Snow cones are a GO, people! Get 'em while they're frozen!"
And what better finish than a fireworks show? (by Logan Darklighter)
The day had gone well mostly. Pete and Sam had been hanging out under a shade tree near the edge of the get-together and had fun tasting and trying out the
various and sundry bar-b-qued meats and variations of "meat on stick" offered by Bishop, Alice and Pooky. Samantha somewhat more so than Pete,
understandably. But they were enjoying themselves none-the-less.
It was as the sun was beginning to set that Samantha leaned over and whispered in Pete's ear. He nodded, got up and went over to Mag Flashlight, tapping
him on the shoulder politely.
"You ready, Mag?" Pete asked.
Mag nodded enthusiastically, "Oh yeah. No problems on my end. This sort of thing is my specialty after all!"
Pete grinned and gave him a thumbs up, "Great! The mission is a 'go', then!"
Mag tossed off a quick mock salute and then ambled over to one end of the brightly painted blue and gold grill that had been the shish-kebab cooking area
earlier. The coals had died away and now they and the half drum grill were cooling.
Pete walked to the other side of the grill and... shifted... Morphing from a perfectly normal human male in denim and t-shirt combo to the android form of
Cyberman 8. This particular version of his outward shell was the one with the slightly heavier armor and shock-absorbing boots. A half-faceplate version of his
helmet with a scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders and pulled up over his nose beneath the faceplate totally obscured his face, the tails of the bright
red scarf trailed off to one side in the evening breeze. Samantha always said he cut a dashing figure in this form.
"Attention please!", Cyberman 8's voice boomed out, amplified to carry above the small crowd, and he struck a "parade rest" pose.
"May I ask that you direct your gaze upon the extinguished coals of todays labors! And very tasty labors they have been, I might add!" He grinned
underneath his helmet and scarf. He was being rather campy with this on purpose. A few chuckles form the crowd indicated to him that he was on the right track.
"Behind me, the flames in the grill have gone out. And..." He held up a finger. "...for the purpose of tonights demonstration, I'll make
certain that they are utterly dark!" He triggered the command that teleported the heavy duty Fire Fighting backpack and harness around his upper body from
the Legendary Base storage. He turned and sprayed the coals liberally with a blast from the Paragon-issued extinguisher.
He dismissed the Extinguisher in the same manner. Then turned back to face his audience.
The setting sun back lit him as C8 gestured towards the grill, "Since the dawn of time, one of man's greatest challenges has been to light the holy
Bar-B-Que! But what to do when fate conspires against the firing of the grill! When rain clouds the day! When coals are not cooperating! Lighter fluid, special
briquettes, tricks and gadgets... most are ineffective!"
"Must we wait in hunger as our flames fail to catch? Do we forsake true bar-b-que with the HERESY of the propane grill? Never!! SCIENCE has the
answer!"
Samantha, who'd conspired with him and Mag about this, was trying and failing to suppress a giggle from behind her hands at her boyfriend hamming it up.
Cyberman 8 whirled and gestured at the grill with an outstretched hand, fully into the moment, now, grinning like a madman, though no one could see it through
his scarf, "the powers of ICE and FLAME will ensure that we do not go hungry! Even the most STUBBORN of coals will light at TEN THOUSAND DEGREES! Mag
Flashlight! If you would be so kind? The LIQUID OXYGEN!!!!"
Mag, grinning like a thief himself, pointed his arm at the grill and a liquid that steamed as it hit the air streamed from a port in his glove and quickly
filled the grill, which creaked and popped with the sudden temperature differential. Mist and fog filled the grill and poured over the sides, drifting to the
ground below. Everybody instinctively stepped back a couple of paces, with the exception of Bella and Braende, who had no fear of fire, and Terrence, who loved
a good show and was intensely curious.
Cyberman 8 withdrew a lighter from a compartment on his belt. He flipped it open and lit the flame then tossed it into the grill.
"IGNITION!"
The evening which had begun to darken as the last of the sun left the sky, was suddenly lit again at the top of the grassy knoll where the Legendary were
holding their picnic. An incandescent flame erupted from the grill in white hot fury. Through the light came an incredible burning, hissing noise as the liquid
oxygen cooked off and steam erupted from the coals, which were quickly consumed. Then the metal of the drum holding the grill softened, and a mass of burning
coals and the remaining liquid oxygen burned through as if it was thermite and fell, hissing and burning into the ground. It continued to burn for another few
moments wildly.
When the smoke and mist cleared, there wasn't much left of the grill. But everyone agreed it had died a death of honor.
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
BARBEQUE PASTICHE
I said I'd do it a week (or so) ago, I'm just now getting around to it. No stories were harmed in the making of this
compilation, and if you want something changed or whatever just let me know. I put them in in-story chronological order. Source material from
here (going forward).
It all began innocently enough... (by drogan niteflier)
"Hot dogs and sausages for the boys, steaks and hamburger for Bella..." Reyshal ticked off the items on her mental list as she passed them over to
her helper. She had elected to go shopping for any who asked, and had fortunately been given an expense card for the Legendary to cover the bill. It was
looking to be a beautiful day out, and she wanted to get back out with her friends to enjoy it. She looked over at her helper and went down her list again,
marking off everything. "It looks like that's it. I'll have to try to see if I can make Manoru later, though it will be hard finding a good fish
to substitute."
She headed for the checkout counter, her helper following behind, when she hear a crash and stifled screams from that direction. Shaking her head, she stepped
to the front to see three hellions riffling through one of the cash registers while a pair of fallen gunners guarded the entry.
Reyshal shook her head, crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat loudly. The hellions paused in their looting and turned towards her, their faces
paling.
"Now then," She said, gesturing for her Sing to place its burden into a nearby cart. "Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way?"
Of course, some had to be show-offs... (by Sofaspud)
The grassy park was dotted with family picnics and BBQ grills -- the holiday weekend combined with beautiful weather and only a 20-percent chance of Rikti
invasion had drawn residents from their homes like bees to pollen. There were gas grills, charcoal grills, solar grills, and even a few superpowered grills, if
one counted flame-based heroes showing off as a viable heat source.
Even with the profusion of appliances dotting the park, one grill in particular stood out. The Legendary had staked out a nice grassy knoll upon which to
congregate, and brought their grills along. Several smaller examples were scattered about, being tended by whoever cared to cook. On one, Terrence Knight and
Mag Flashlight debated the merits of straight grilling versus beer-soaking for sausages, while examples of their subject sizzled merrily away. On another,
Numero Catorce was carefully watching his asada. Nearby, Bella Fuego primed the coals for a grill that looked to be dedicated to hot dogs and hamburgers. But
the biggest grill of all was unused, gently smoking to itself as the coals caused the air above it to shimmer and dance. By itself, it was eye-catching,
painted in blue and gold and comprised of a 55-gallon drum split lengthwise and welded together. But that was hardly unusual. No, this grill was even stranger.
Clamped to the back of the grill was a set of thick planks, set at a 90-degree angle to the bed of softly glowing coals. They were unadorned except for a
series of concentric circles charred into them, the largest being about six inches in diameter and the smallest perhaps an inch. The gathered crew blinked
curiously at it and talked amongst themselves quietly.
"I'm sorry I'm late," a voice said, and a moment later William Bishop III puffed up the slope, his ever-present bow slung over one shoulder
and a bulging sack of groceries in his arms. "There was a line at the store." He dropped the supplies on the folding table near the grill,
straightened his back, and stretched briefly, before organizing the contents of the sack into several neat piles. It appeared to have all been prepped
beforehand; there were neat cubes of meat, peeled baby onions, cleaned mushrooms, and other less identifiable bits and pieces. Bill turned to regard the hungry
crowd and blinked.
"I didn't realize there would be so many here today," he commented. "I'm going to need some help if we're all going to get to try my
recipe. Hmm." He perused the gathered heroes for a moment, then smiled. "Purrfect Archer, Pooky, would you two be so kind as to assist me? I'll
show you how it's done and you just follow my lead."
Puzzled but willing, the two edged their way forward. Some of the gathered teammates who had been to one of Bill's cookouts before grinned conspiriatorally
at each other, knowing what was coming next.
"Alright then!" Bill declared. "The coals are hot, it's time to get crackin'. Watch closely, you two, it's an easy enough trick but
you need careful timing." So saying, he whipped out his bow and a fistful of arrows, slammed a fist down on the table (causing the piles to jump a few
feet in the air), drew, and let loose.
FwipfwipfwipfwipTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD.
"And that, sir and madam, is how it's done," Bill drawled, as the arrows plunged through the ingredients and slammed home, dead-center, on each
of the planks, vibrating gently. The impromptu shish-kebabs began to sizzle invitingly. "You up for it, kids?"
Others were passionate about their subject... (by Wiregeek)
The toughest part of the Legendary picnic, in my lights, was the lizard. I'm not sure how I got elected caretaker, but it's a job I take fairly
seriously..
Still, how do you keep a combat trained, unnaturally voracious lizard from ruining a picnic, especially when she's been blessed with the intellect of a
fairly advanced dog..
The solution, when I finally figured it out, was simplicity itself. 3 gross of one-size-fits-all disposable cotton gloves, a VERY confused delivery driver, and
an XXXXL cooler with seals tight enough to hold odor in..
"No, it's not about the existing flavor, Terrence - the beer marinade adds to the overall effect, and the choice of available beers allows a variety
of flavors with a single meat.. hold on."
I popped the cooler open and snagged a 20 pound deer roast. I handed it to Terrence, who had put on a fresh pair of the gloves, and pointed. He stretched back
and Hurled the deer haunch, and the meat missile blew Gen clean off the top of Bella's grill, where she'd been trying to figure out how to open the
lid.. whilst sitting on it. Delighted squeals came from Gen and some of the kids in the park as she tumbled across the sky, wrapped around the deer meat and
happily destroying it, before she splashed down in the lake.
Nodding my thanks, I returned to castigating Terrence on his unreasonable rejection of beer marinade as a sausage preparation..
And some were simply supremely skilled... (by Ankhani)
It was truly a sight to behold. As many heroes as you could fit on a grassy hill were all to be found. The picnic was quite a hit between all the members of
the Legendary. Several had brought out grills to show their skills, or enjoy the skills of others, as a cook.
... "See that steak over there? Looks done to me." Pooky said, while notching an arrow tied to a string. Bill, beside him, was to busy lining up
another row of kebobs to hear. With a dual *THWIP* both released their shots, and hit dead center...
Some even shared their techniqes to others preparing simmilar dishes.
... "Just -listen- for a moment, Terrence: the marinade adds another entire dimesion to the flavor of your meat, it adds new combinations to cook."
Mag was busy explaining. "No, it doesn't. The beer just masks the flavor of a good cut, it is a waste of meat to simply saturate it with somthing
else, and cover up any natural flavor. It detracts from the art of grilling." Pointed out Terrence...
Over all, Amberlee was quite enjoying the spectacle. After a taste of one of Bill's kebobs, she had wandered over towards Mag and Terr to see what they
were arguing over. Both saw her and smiled. They both began devising that if they could win a convert, he would have won out over the other. After discussing
and demonstrating their process, they each gave her the finished product for tasting. Once she had tried both, they looked at her expectanly. She grined.
"Well, you both do have good skill there, but still, I think I would prefer -our- way." The two looked rather dumbfounded for a moment. The muffled
thud of Emet's heavy footsteps on the grass sounded, coming closer. Her golem was wearing an apron and chef's hat, and carrying a large platter with
only a few pieces of meat left on it. Braende was not far behind Emet. Brae giggled and faced the two tanks. "...And looking at how many have been eaten,
people here seem to agree with us."
Safety, of course, was paramount... (by Sweno)
Lisa was happy to leave the preparation of meats to those with skill. She knew her cooking talents began with the microwave and ended with things in boiling
water. Being a helping hand was enough to feel useful, and on certain topics she could be enticed to provide input.
Currently Lisa was keeping an eye on the smoker for Bella. But once Terrence had wound down a bit in his prohibitionist stance on food preparation; she planned
on discussing some beer marinades with Mag. Just because she didn't have the skill to do it herself didn't mean she couldn't put her rather
extensive knowledge of fermented barley to good use. Lisa had always wondered if a good marinade could be made from a nice chocolate stout, but could never
bring herself to sacrifice the ingredients on the necessary experimentation. Perhaps Mag could be convinced to lend his skills to a first attempt.
Lisa wasn't entirely focused on culinary experimentation. She also did a little preventative work. Being around to irradiate the steaks also prevented
possible food poisoning for those who insisted that 'still mooing' or 'flame kissed' were perfectly fine levels of cooked.
And surprises were the game of the day. (by alaskanime)
Genau'Goeg stumbled out of the lake, picking her teeth with a single claw and belching mightily. She had polished off the entire deer roast before
she'd even hit the bottom of the lake. Her gigantic hunger sated, Gen could think more clearly as she looked around at the activity around her. Focusing on
Mag, she smirked a little - I am not as stupid as you think I am, Mag Flashlight she thought. Indeed, she had recently memorized a few invention recipies, and
was working on more.
Her capacity for learning was incredible, but her efforts had been and still were stymied by her lack of communication skills and her still child-like brain.
The only time that wasn't an issue is when she awakened the Warshade essence within her - an often painful and sapping experience. Her subconscious mind
still equated the presence she sought to help with the dominating powers of Karegu'Rhia, her former captor. Still, looking around at all of her friends
gathered in one spot, she felt a twinge of guilt. These people had done so much for her - raised her as one of their own with a gentle and supportive hand,
trained her into an effective weapon against the tides of evil. She wanted to do something more for them than just dispatching the occasional horde of
Cimeroran Traitors.
"Wake up, Iau..." Gen whispered. "Gen need help."
Yaaawwwwwnnnn...What is that incredible collection of aroma particles suspended in your nasal cavities? asked the
dormant warshade.
"...Gen thinks she knows what that means. It called barbeque. Many people cook over fire."
Yes, I see now. Flesh of various mammals, coated in a mixture of water, molasses, spices...and processed pork products
marinading in a high-quality malted beverage. The warshade's words were punctuated by flashed mental images in the back of Gen's mind, a sort of
alien-mind-meld-come-word-association game the two of them played. It reminded her a little of her "fast-track" learning on the Dra'nan
homeworld. She shook off the sudden nausea and reminded herself that this creature would never harm her.
"Gen want cook, too. Gen not just killing machine." She pouted a little and moved into the sunshine to dry out, her normally blue scales swirling to
black, her buckled leather armor seemingly melding into her skin and vanishing as purple patterns crawled across her body like snakes, coming to rest in her
familiar warshade colorations. She denied the warshade full control, however - she was going to need her wings for this one.
"We work together on this, okay?" she whispered to the warshade inside her head.
What did you have in mind?
Gen merely smiled before shaking off the remaining droplets of water and taking flight.
--
The look of shock on everyone's face was priceless.
Genau'Goeg came in low, bearing the burden of a brand new Weber grill, lighter fluid, and charcoal in her claws, her purple and black hide glinting in the
sun. She set up her own station next to Mag's, grinning toothily at him as she began to set up like a pro. After she had started the coals, she grabbed the
still shocked Mag by the shoulders and turned him towards the grill.
"Watch this. Gen be right back."
The wind from her wings was enough to send paper cups and plates flying in a white whirlwind as Gen climbed skyward and disappeared. About 5 minutes later, she
returned, several bags of groceries dangling from her claws. Mag backed up a little as she alighted on the grass and started digging through the bags.
"W...whaaaaat??" he stammered. Gen looked at him and flashed a sharp-toothed grin.
"Surprise." was all she said as she pulled out some giant portabella mushrooms, a jar of minced garlic and butter. She made a shooing motion at him,
and he realized he was standing in front of the grill. He backed up a a few paces, still dumbfounded. Gen threw 10 of the big, juicy mushrooms on the grill and
produced a small clear Pyrex bowl and a small barbeque brush from one of her shopping bags. She threw in a stick of butter and some of the garlic, placing the
bowl off to the side on the grill where the coals weren't as hot. The butter melted quickly and soon Gen was brushing the mixture across the mushrooms.
Yes, that's right...just like you saw the others do with their meat... Iau'Nosi said reassuringly in the back
of her head.
Gen smiled and removed the hot Pyrex bowl from the grill with barely a flinch, placing it on a conviniently placed potholder on a nearby table. She smiled and
looked at everyone who had gathered around.
"First round mushy-rooms done soon. Gen make lots more." She motioned to the bags, overflowing with giant portabellos. "Eat up!"
Some things, of course, being more surprising than others. (by OpMegs)
To say Inyme was...not exactly getting the state of this "barbecue to 'relax'" thing was...something of an understatement.
Most people looking at her body language, hidden beneath the red and white armor she'd adopted when Alice had invited her to some kind of social visit with
friends, would have thought she was bored, annoyed, or just generally cool and serene.
Those people were not aware that Inyme's inner thoughts were something akin to nearing blind panic.
Intellectually, Inyme had known that Alice was a member of the Legendary, a group that the Rikti had become well acquainted with before Inyme's
infiltration. A group that, as a rule, Inyme had avoided contact with at all costs in terms of upper tier missions except with those so psi-dead that Inyme
could scream obscenities in Ancient Archival Rikti at them and they'd never even subconciously flinch. Which wasn't to say that the woman, Gamma
Emission, was that dull. Her boyfriend, on the other hand....
However, here she was in her original, mostly unshielded armor, lacking the elaborate and effort saving psi-baffles that concealed her thoughts from other
telepaths, and standing in the largest concentration of heroes she'd ever been near, several of which were telepaths that could match or exceed the Rikti
Mentalist baseline average. While Inyme thought at least somewhat highly of her own skill at evading detection, that large of a threat that she was, by social
obligation, unable to flee from, and the cataclysmic danger it offered to her mission, were steadily driving the very ordered and calm Rikti infiltrator ever
closer to running screaming from the gathering out of hope it would be LESS suspicious than one of the various psions scattered about actually detecting her
thoughts and realizing what she was.
Which was when Alice handed her a large object to hold. Inyme looked down, seeing a plastic bowl of ingredients. The catgirl looked apologetically at her, and
Inyme realized through their mental link that she was being asked to mix them up properly. Considering the situation, she had a small moment of clarity as she
recalled one of her oldest training instructions, where the instructor had said that concentrating on a step-by-step mundane process was more effective to
hiding ones deeper thoughts than any particular psi-shielding could ever be, by drowning them out in mental static.
Nodding, she went over to the table next to some large commotion around a lizard person cooking some sort of fungus...she wasn't really sure...and began
mixing the ingredients. Having at least some experience with human cuisine, Inyme blanched slightly at the taste she imagined this was going to make, and
discreetly borrowed several ingredients from Gen's tray via telekinesis to add to her burgeoning salad. Having, purposely, put the rest of the party out of
her mind, she continued focusing on it to the point of distraction. She didn't even notice when someone started physically handing her containers and
spices instead of them floating to her hands. Or that she'd begun making far more than one particular bowl. Her memories were rather directed to the past,
and one of her favorite foods from her young childhood, before her life had gone to hell. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be close, and for a very
homesick young Rikti girl, it would be enough. It was only about a half an hour of focused cooking later that she looked up to find a bowl so she could sample
some for herself that she noticed at least a dozen people were already eating bowls of their own. If Inyme's thoughts could be summed up in one expression,
it probably would've been "!", especially when several people began congratulating her on such a great piece of food. Relaxed far more than
she'd been earlier, Inyme actually managed to deny her self-conscious tendency to keep her helmet on, hiding her human-disguised face, and actually enjoyed
her own work. It had, indeed, come out just about perfectly, barring ingredients that had no counterpart from the Rikti Homeworld.
It was only a few hours later, when she was alone at home and savoring the afterglow of her culinary triumph that Inyme realized she'd recreated a
traditional Rikti dish in almost exacting detail, and recited the recipe she'd made on the spot to several people who'd asked, around a supergroup
whose members included dozens of Vanguard members and at least one Rikti defector, if she recalled correctly.
The psionic shriek was muffled and dispersed by the safeguards built into Inyme's apartment, but still disturbed pigeons all they way over in Grandville,
gave telepaths all over the East Coast a vague nagging head pain they couldn't pin down a cause of, and cracked the glass face of the analog clock Alice
had bought Inyme as a gift. In hindsight, it was perhaps telling that the latter distressed Inyme more than the previous results, or even the realization
itself.
After a meal, of course, comes dessert. (by Sofaspud)
The outing showed no signs of winding down, even as the day stretched into mid-afternoon and beyond. The grills were quiet, now; they might be fired up again
if people stuck around long enough, or might not. The sheer quantity and variety of food brought forth and prepared today boggled the mind.
That said, Katy Kaboom remarked to herself, there was a dire lack of a certain type of dish, one that was, in her mind, absolutely essential to a picnic or
barbeque of any sort. And since her *grilling* skills left something -- well, a lot -- to be desired, she'd seen fit to bring something else to the party.
Something *fun*.
She got to her feet, suppressing a most unladylike belch -- Gen's mushrooms were heavenly, and she'd eaten more of them than she should have, she
realized -- and made her way to the prep tables near the grill area. People were scattered all over, talking quietly, dancing to the drumbeats of Pooky (and
the boombox on the ground next to him), tossing a frisbee, or just soaking up the sun and digesting. It was the perfect time.
She reached into one of her compression pouches, ignoring the weird crawling sensation as her hand vanished into the depths to a distance much farther than the
pouch was deep, and groped around until she found the object she was looking for. With a grunt of effort, she drew forth...
... a large, boxy, metallic object, about a foot on each side and twice as tall, rectangular and covered in stickers and service panels. The front had an
opening just about the right size to admit a large cup, with a flexible hose ending in a wide-angle cone (with oddly-positioned blinking lights) attached in
what could best be described as unholy matrimony. Katy set the thing on the table with a thump and set about disconnecting the trunk-like projection, humming
softly to herself as she worked, her free hand flipping the Leatherman it held between and around her fingers like a sideshow performer rolling a coin.
"Say, that's a neat trick," Yukiyo put in from behind. Katy jumped in surprise, then flashed a grin over her shoulder.
"If you're talking about the pouches, I can't take credit for them," she replied, pulling a wire free with a sharp tug and splicing it back
in somewhere else, so fast her fingers were nothing more than a blur. "But if you're talking about Betsy, here... you ain't seen nothing
yet!"
"I meant what you're doing with the Leatherman," Yukiyo said, then blinked. "Betsy?"
"Mm-hmm." Katy gave Yukiyo a mischevious grin. "And you're just in time to help me!"
"Ooh! Okay! What do you need me to do?"
Katy handed Yukiyo a large cup from the stack balanced precariously nearby. "Hold this." She reached into another pouch, frowned, tried a third, and
finally found what she was groping for in the fourth, drawing it forth easily. It rattled and clanked, and Yukiyo frowned in puzzlement.
"Katy, were those --"
"Yep!"
"So that machine is a --"
"Yep!" So saying, Katy set her burden down, grabbed the hose from her contraption, and held it out towards Yukiyo. "Ready?"
Yukiyo looked at Katy, at the cup in her hands, at the machine, back to Katy, and nodded eagerly. "Sure!"
"Power on!" Katy cried, and pressed the trigger.
FWOOOSH.
When the fog cleared, it revealed an embarrased-looking Katy Kaboom standing with a frost-covered hose in one hand, the other covering her mouth. Of Yukiyo,
nothing could be seen, save her eyes blinking in startled shock behind her glasses. The rest of her was covered in a rapidly-melting coating of... shaved ice?
"I'm SO sorry, Yukiyo!" Katy cried. "I forgot to swap out the combat pump for the regular one." She grinned weakly and displayed a
small, complicated-looking device in one hand.
Mag Flashlight ambled over -- the sudden wash of cold air having caught his attention, the sight of a Yukiyo-sicle guaranteeing his interest -- and tapped
thoughtfully at the snowy mass. He rolled it between his fingers, sniffed at it thoughtfully, then nodded. "Food-grade shaved ice... uniform
consistency... no shards, just pellets... nice work, Katy." He nodded, the approval of one craftsman to another. "Couldn't do better
myself."
Katy blushed. Yukiyo made a strangled squeaking noise from within the snow mound, then shook herself, the snow sliding off and plopping to the ground.
"KATY!" she yelled. "That was SUPPOSED to go in my CUP!"
"I fixed it, I fixed it!" Katy replied. She triggered it again, and this time it worked perfectly, filling Yukiyo's outstretched cup with a soft
mound of glistening white. "Okay! I have cherry, grape, lime, banana, and watermelon. What flavor?"
Yukiyo looked down at her cup, then turned her huge, glistening, puppy-dog eyes on Katy. "All of them?"
Katy grinned and waved her towards the syrup rack. "Snow cones are a GO, people! Get 'em while they're frozen!"
And what better finish than a fireworks show? (by Logan Darklighter)
The day had gone well mostly. Pete and Sam had been hanging out under a shade tree near the edge of the get-together and had fun tasting and trying out the
various and sundry bar-b-qued meats and variations of "meat on stick" offered by Bishop, Alice and Pooky. Samantha somewhat more so than Pete,
understandably. But they were enjoying themselves none-the-less.
It was as the sun was beginning to set that Samantha leaned over and whispered in Pete's ear. He nodded, got up and went over to Mag Flashlight, tapping
him on the shoulder politely.
"You ready, Mag?" Pete asked.
Mag nodded enthusiastically, "Oh yeah. No problems on my end. This sort of thing is my specialty after all!"
Pete grinned and gave him a thumbs up, "Great! The mission is a 'go', then!"
Mag tossed off a quick mock salute and then ambled over to one end of the brightly painted blue and gold grill that had been the shish-kebab cooking area
earlier. The coals had died away and now they and the half drum grill were cooling.
Pete walked to the other side of the grill and... shifted... Morphing from a perfectly normal human male in denim and t-shirt combo to the android form of
Cyberman 8. This particular version of his outward shell was the one with the slightly heavier armor and shock-absorbing boots. A half-faceplate version of his
helmet with a scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders and pulled up over his nose beneath the faceplate totally obscured his face, the tails of the bright
red scarf trailed off to one side in the evening breeze. Samantha always said he cut a dashing figure in this form.
"Attention please!", Cyberman 8's voice boomed out, amplified to carry above the small crowd, and he struck a "parade rest" pose.
"May I ask that you direct your gaze upon the extinguished coals of todays labors! And very tasty labors they have been, I might add!" He grinned
underneath his helmet and scarf. He was being rather campy with this on purpose. A few chuckles form the crowd indicated to him that he was on the right track.
"Behind me, the flames in the grill have gone out. And..." He held up a finger. "...for the purpose of tonights demonstration, I'll make
certain that they are utterly dark!" He triggered the command that teleported the heavy duty Fire Fighting backpack and harness around his upper body from
the Legendary Base storage. He turned and sprayed the coals liberally with a blast from the Paragon-issued extinguisher.
He dismissed the Extinguisher in the same manner. Then turned back to face his audience.
The setting sun back lit him as C8 gestured towards the grill, "Since the dawn of time, one of man's greatest challenges has been to light the holy
Bar-B-Que! But what to do when fate conspires against the firing of the grill! When rain clouds the day! When coals are not cooperating! Lighter fluid, special
briquettes, tricks and gadgets... most are ineffective!"
"Must we wait in hunger as our flames fail to catch? Do we forsake true bar-b-que with the HERESY of the propane grill? Never!! SCIENCE has the
answer!"
Samantha, who'd conspired with him and Mag about this, was trying and failing to suppress a giggle from behind her hands at her boyfriend hamming it up.
Cyberman 8 whirled and gestured at the grill with an outstretched hand, fully into the moment, now, grinning like a madman, though no one could see it through
his scarf, "the powers of ICE and FLAME will ensure that we do not go hungry! Even the most STUBBORN of coals will light at TEN THOUSAND DEGREES! Mag
Flashlight! If you would be so kind? The LIQUID OXYGEN!!!!"
Mag, grinning like a thief himself, pointed his arm at the grill and a liquid that steamed as it hit the air streamed from a port in his glove and quickly
filled the grill, which creaked and popped with the sudden temperature differential. Mist and fog filled the grill and poured over the sides, drifting to the
ground below. Everybody instinctively stepped back a couple of paces, with the exception of Bella and Braende, who had no fear of fire, and Terrence, who loved
a good show and was intensely curious.
Cyberman 8 withdrew a lighter from a compartment on his belt. He flipped it open and lit the flame then tossed it into the grill.
"IGNITION!"
The evening which had begun to darken as the last of the sun left the sky, was suddenly lit again at the top of the grassy knoll where the Legendary were
holding their picnic. An incandescent flame erupted from the grill in white hot fury. Through the light came an incredible burning, hissing noise as the liquid
oxygen cooked off and steam erupted from the coals, which were quickly consumed. Then the metal of the drum holding the grill softened, and a mass of burning
coals and the remaining liquid oxygen burned through as if it was thermite and fell, hissing and burning into the ground. It continued to burn for another few
moments wildly.
When the smoke and mist cleared, there wasn't much left of the grill. But everyone agreed it had died a death of honor.
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs