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"Ah, Lisa, good. Come in, come in...." Mr. Bell noted, waving her
over to a seat, the older man turning his best grandfatherly smile in her direction. Which, of course, set Lisa on edge immediately. It wasn't that it was
faked; no one could be more pleasant and comradely than Jim Bell. But given Lisa's recent dry spell, she wasn't certain that wasn't to put her at
ease and let her down gently.

"I realize that you are, of course, still working on an ongoing piece of
investigative work. I know the cops at PSI wouldn't tolerate you around there if you were just wasting their time. But we can't afford to keep paying
you for no real return on your work.

Lisa nodded, frowning mentally. Her initial optimism regarding finding out the
identities or at least the origins of the Knight Sabres had been rooted in her "big break" in being kidnapped by Crey to apparently become one under
their control, but that had come with its own drawbacks, as she'd discovered the first time she'd run into her quarry firsthand...

***

"Miss Echo Sabre, is it?" a modulated but undeniably female voice
asked from behind her.

Lisa nearly jumped, but didn't quite engage her rocket boots as she
whirled around to come face to face with the blue and silver figure that she'd only seen in photos before now. Silicon Sabre. "Uh....yeah.
Hi."

The other woman walked a few steps closer before looking her over. "So,
since my own sources only identified you after you went active, I can imagine you're unfamiliar with me."

"Yes, actually. I had a bit of a run in with Crey
and...well."

Silicon nodded absently. "We've made a bit of an enemy in them,
certainly. I don't suppose you'd mind going somewhere more...comfortable than this rooftop to discuss the subject of what you've gotten yourself
into, taking that name?"

"Yes, well...I think I'll be okay," Lisa said, thinking rapidly.
She'd never known anyone, even the one Sabre whose name was a matter of public record, to break ranks of silence on their collective history, and since she
certainly planned to, it'd be best if they didn't know where she lived in case they were.... insisting on that silence from new members. "I hope
you understand I don't really want anyone to know who I am behind the helmet..."

"Even me," Silicon acknowledged. "Perfectly understandable. In
that case," she said, as Lisa's suit registered a new contact number in her communications database. "If you ever have any particular troubles,
feel free to call that number, and you'll get help. Beyond that, I wish you well, if you really intend to stay solo."

"Oh, it's not like that!" Lisa protested. "It's
just.... I'm not sure that I can...y'know..."

"Ah. Yes," Silicon nodded. "Very well. If you ever change your
mind, that same number can lead you to people who can get in touch with me. Until then, perhaps we'll see each other on a job of mutual interest," she
said, leaping away as Lisa watched.

**

Lisa hadn't been dense enough to miss the implied qualifier. Until she
trusted them with her identity, they'd not really trust her with theirs. Which put her back at square 2, in the sense that she now knew how to get them to
show up, but not an in-road into their identities...yet.

"However, you're too sharp for us to let go and possibly jump to a
competitor," Jim chuckled, unaware of her introspection. "So we're assigning you a job to do while you're working that we can use to keep the
accountants happy."

Lisa nodded slightly, even as she swallowed. "...so, I suppose I'll
be headed to Atlas?"

Jim looked at her for a long moment before laughing out loud. "Oh, no, Lisa. No," he laughed. "We're not demoting you to costume show duty.
You're not in trouble, just being finagled into place so we can keep you on," he chuckled, nearly laughing again at the exaggerated relief on
Lisa's face. "However, it's hardly a great example of investigative journalism like those scoops you seem to like so much," he chuckled.
"The Times puts out a weekly hero biography piece. Help the city get to know some of them a bit more intimately than "that guy in tights
that kept the Hellions from mugging me" and such," he said. "I figure you're good with people, and a good writer, so you might be able to
make it a bit more interesting than it currently is."

Lisa deflated a bit, but resolved not to let it show on her face. She knew Jim was being as generous as he could be here. A few fluff pieces to keep her job
wouldn't hurt her. "So, who'm I interviewing first, sir?"

Jim looked over to sift through his old filing system, running through the
cards like a librarian searching through the old Dewey decimal system indexes. Finally, he found the filing section he wanted and randomly pulled out a card,
before glancing at it and nodding once. "Hero by the name of Looney Toons. Seems like you won't be bored, Lisa," he chuckled.

Lisa glanced at the card and address, shrugged, and slipped it into her camera
bag. Somehow, I doubt that.

***

Several hours of research later, and Lisa wasn't so sure any
longer.

She'd expected this "Looney Toons" to be some brightly colored
costumed goofball, possibly with a Warner Brothers fetish. What she'd found was...odd. And borderline contradictory to boot. While the man was obviously a
fan of old cartoons from the number of references to them in the file footage she'd found, as well as fond of a wacky bantering style befitting of
Superball, his file information and bearing also presented a completely different picture. As a girl, she'd planned to follow in her father's footsteps
as a reporter, and he'd encouraged her in her dream by teaching her the tricks of the trade. One of which had been how to observe. And Looney Toons the
hero and Looney Toons the combatant were two very different things. As a combatant, though his nonstop chatter distracted from it, he utilized almost no
unnecessary showiness. Efficiency of motion, cover, and a clear head for thinking tactically were evident in how he operated, alone or in groups. The uniform
(and she couldn't really think of it as a costume) accented this, seeming almost military or police-like and at odds with his public personality and chosen
moniker.

History-wise, there wasn't much on him. A Portal Corp attachment to his
FBSA file registered him as a Dimensionally Displaced Person or DDP, along with a record of the time and date of his arrival, but there had been nothing
sufficiently ground breaking for them to acknowledge more than that or even interview him, and the FBSA had merely verified his general qualifications for a
hero license and then dumped him on the street. There were a few bits and pieces about a previous supergroup known as the Warriors (no connection to the
Paragon gang of the same name) which had supposedly had some kind of UN sanction, but that told her nothing that her own observations of him hadn't. Like
where he'd gotten his training or even how he'd managed a single-person dimensional entry without "anchoring" to the Portal Corp portals like
so many dimensional conduits tended to.
Beyond that, Lisa had the oddest inkling that she'd
seen him somewhere before. Which was entirely possible, given Paragon's abundant hero population and her own line of work, but she couldn't place
exactly where. Nonetheless, she was now fairly interested in the job, which would help alleviate her boredom while she waited for a break with the Sabres. At
least she had that. Dialing up the number provided, she held for a moment before eventually getting an answering machine. Shrugging, she waited for the beep.
"Hello, Mr. Sangnoir. This is Lisa Vanette from the Paragon Times and you've been selected for our weekly Heroic Insider column. If you could
just get in touch with me at some point, we could set up an interview date, or just toss a message on my voice mail. If you don't wish to participate, feel
free to contact me either way as well to let us know. Thanks!" With that, she hung up and slipped on her shoes and jacket. She was hungry, and she knew
Nene should be getting off about now. Maybe if she caught her early enough, she could get the policewoman to hit Casey's with her. Her friend always let
more slip when she was eating than she did any other time, and besides, Lisa didn't feel like heating ramen alone in her apartment tonight.

***

This was supposed to be a one-shot joke initially. It isn't anymore. Now I have plot ideas growing, dammit. Though I need to do research now. :lol
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
Oh wow, Ops. I wasn't demanding, really, but... wow, I am very pleased. I'm looking forward to more of this -- and if my muse and your needs allow,
I'd be happy to contribute bits if you'd like.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
Quote: Bob Schroeck wrote:

Oh wow, Ops. I wasn't demanding, really, but... wow, I am very pleased. I'm looking forward to more of this -- and if my muse and your needs allow,
I'd be happy to contribute bits if you'd like.
Sure! My gmail account's Optimal Megatron without the space or caps, so drop me a line with whatever. Certainly, I'd welcome the help.
:lol
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
Oh, if the poor girl wants an over-the-top interview, then I'm sure that Numero Catorce would be willing to talk to a member of the noble and venerated
Fourth Estate. (Yes, that's how he would say it; he has his reasons.) Barring that, if you want something really over the top, there's always Rilly
Rilly Big Man. Smile
Ebony the Black Dragon
http://ebony14.livejournal.com

"Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you."
Muahahaha! RRBM will be a riot Big Grin
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll
He would be but I was under the impression her boss was not trying to punish her.

ps: good sig monster, have a cookie

--
"The problem is that he appears to be one of those who is immortal by reason of being too stupid to
realize that he's been killed."

-- J. Clarke