The screen darkened, and the credits rolled. Travis brought up the lights, and people stood up to grab more pop. We’d put the cups and 2 liters on the main table next to the computer screens and keyboards. That may not have been the best idea, but nobody had spilled anything yet—except on the carpet, and that was no big deal. The original League had last renovated in the 1970’s, so the carpet was olive green shag.
Heroes League headquarters felt full, and it was, relatively speaking. We had all of the League’s grandchildren (nine of us), most of the former Justice Fist team (except for Sean, Jody, and Dayton), plus my friend Chris, and Cassie’s friend Kayla.
In short with the sixteen of us, we had more people with powers in the complex than some small countries had in their armed forces.
We’d just gotten done watching “Mystery Men,” and were about to watch another movie. We just didn’t know which one.
Vaughn pulled a DVD case out, and held it where everyone could see it. “We have to watch this next.”
The first words I noticed on the cover were, “Barely Legal.”
I said, “We are not watching porn.”
Vaughn said, “Nick, look at it.” He pointed his finger at the title. It said, “The All Nude Heroes League.”
The picture showed a group picture of heroes that looked like us, and like Justice Fist—if our costumes showed a lot more skin, and our bodies looked a lot more like porn stars.
Cassie leaned over to grab the case, and take a closer look at it. “This is hilarious. Vaughn’s right. We do have to watch this.”
“No, we really don’t,” I said.
“I don’t want to either,” Jaclyn said, “but we might want to sue, and I want to find out what they did with us.”
Daniel took a breath, and then said, “As anonymous vigilantes, I’d bet we can’t do much, but it’s not like I’d know. My dad’s the lawyer.”
The movie was every bit as bad as you might imagine. The plot, if you could call it a plot, consisted of The Rocket inventing some kind of sexual device, and trying it on everyone he met, except a supervillain stole it, and…
OK. I should not go into this, but here’s actual dialogue from the scene where he finds the supervillain and gets it back:
Princess Orgasmika: It’s so cold!
The Rocket: I calculate it will be warm in 2.75 thrusts.
Scenes like that left Cassie howling with laughter, and she wasn’t the only one. The acting was bad, the lighting too bright, and every scene appeared to have been filmed in the same warehouse.
It took about twenty minutes because we fast forwarded through most of it, stopping only for the most bizarre images. Suffice it to say that by the end everybody had had sex with everybody, which was probably fine for the average viewer, but kind of disturbing if you knew who was related to whom.
Once it was over, I decided to clear up something that had been on my mind for most of the movie. “The Rocket suit,” I said,” does not have an extension for that.”
That started people laughing all over again.
Cassie said, “Sure, Nick. We believe you. Haley, tell us the truth, does it?”
Haley blushed, and glared at her.
Cassie grinned. “That’s not a no.”
“It is SO a no.”
“OK,” Cassie said. “Sorry, but you know Nick will just have to invent one now.”
“No way,” I said. “I don’t think that the one in the movie would be technically possible.” I stopped, thought about it some more. “Although,” I began.
The doorbell rang, interrupting me. Marcus peered at one of the computer monitors at the table in the middle of the room. “Pizza delivery.”
“I’ll get it, I guess.” With all but a few former Justice Fist people attending, I’d gotten permission to use official Heroes League money for the pizza. It counted as outreach, right?
Anyway, people broke into laughter as I walked toward the elevator to the house.
I wondered why, and then realised the answer–I was walking into a pornographic cliche. The movie’s pizza delivery scene was when Orgasmika stole the device. In real life, I felt confident I’d be able to keep my clothes on.
Haley hurried after me.
“You can’t possibly think that—” I said.
“Think what? I thought you might need help with the pizza.”
She had a point. We’d ordered almost as many pizzas as we had people. I’ve often thought that supervillains wouldn’t have to create convoluted plots to figure out a superhero’s secret identity if they only monitored people’s grocery bills.
Cassie ate at least twice as much as you’d expect from her size, and she wasn’t the only one.