MBL #1: Birth of the Meta Board League

[DocQuantum]

The following is a project I began some time ago but more recently have continued. It's nothing to do with DC Comics, except that this is based on threads from the old DC Message Boards back on 1999. Probably only Starsky might remember the MBL from back in those days.

The story is my insane attempt to make sense of a thread that was NEVER meant to be a story, but had a few story elements and ended up launching a series of stories that followed it. Still, this kind of stands alone, as most of the characters introduced in this story (based on actual posters from the DC Message Boards) will never be seen again in any of the subsequent MBL stories.

***

CHAPTER 1: THE PLAN OF META 7

Spring, 1999:

Nobody knows where they came from, or why they have the abilities they do, but metahumans have been around for many years. There had always been rumors of men and women who possessed strange powers and abilities. Stories of gods, heroes and monsters had circulated in legends throughout the world for as long as mankind has existed. But it was not until the 1930s, when they first became known to the public, that metahumans began to be an everyday reality.

Metaman was the first mystery man (as they were called in the early days) to use his powers in public, beginning in 1938. There had been other mystery men before him, but none of them had the range of powers as Metaman, and none of them had acted openly under the watchful eye of the public. Metaman was unique at the time, but those who came after him owed him a debt, for he had liberated them from the tyranny of secrecy. He had proven that the existence of metahumans (as they began to be called after his first appearance) was not at all devastating to the public, as it soon got used to them, even regarding them as heroes, or metaheroes.

A team of costumed crime-fighters calling themselves the Mystery Men had formed in early 1939, but this group steadfastly refused to work in the open, instead remaining in the shadows. After the outbreak of war in Europe that year, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt foresaw a need for a team of metaheroes to protect the United States. Metaman had been the very first mystery man to begin working alongside the authorities, and, with his help, FDR set up the Mysterymen Board in late 1939, a governmental regulatory board that was run completely by bureaucrats. It was essentially useless for more than a year, until FDR used it to found a team of metaheroes who could be called upon by the government in the nation's hour of need. Thus, in early 1941 the team called the Mystery Men was voluntarily disbanded after its final devastating case to found the Mysterymen Board Society -- or the MBS -- under FDR's direction, its membership made up of the greatest American mystery men of the time. The MBS operated from 1941 until 1951, being most active during World War II.

During that time, FDR formed another team called the All-Adventurers Squadron, which included nearly every willing metahero active at the time, and its missions were much more varied than that of the MBS. Throughout much of the war, for instance, a number of AAS members were used as bodyguards for military figures and even Hollywood celebrities. During the so-called "Pin-Up Girl Crisis" of 1944, for example, AAS members protected such famed celebrities as Betty Grable, Rita Hayworth, Myrna Loy, and others from a kidnapping plot by fifth columnists working under the direction of a top-ranking Nazi general. The AAS was active from 1942 until war's end in 1945, when it was no longer needed.

Most of the metahumans during World War II had operated on the side of the Allies, but with the end of the war, more and more metapowered criminals, called metavillains, began to appear. Metahumans who could neither be considered metaheroes nor metavillains also began appearing in larger numbers. The population of metahumans in the world had grown so much over the course of a decade, in fact, that some kind of regulation was needed. A few metahumans, foreseeing that they would soon fall under such regulation whether they wanted it or not, took it upon themselves to set up a self-regulatory board of their own under the auspices of the United Nations. Thus, the United Nations Board of Metahumans (UNBOM) was created in 1951, following the disbanding that year of the MBS and the closure of the Mysterymen Board. The first chairman of UNBOM was the celebrated Metaman, who used the respect he had earned as a hero to gain political respect for metaheroes.

UNBOM, nicknamed the Meta Board, proved to be a very useful non-governmental organization over the next fifty years. It kept governments and lawmakers happy by lending metahero help to deal with metahuman problems, and it provided financing for a number of metahero groups that appeared during that time. The most notable of these groups were the Metamen Five and the Excelsior Seven of the 1960s, the Metahero Pals of the 1970s, and the Metahero League of America of the 1980s and early 1990s. Unfortunately, no team (except for the Forgotten Metaheroes, who operated sporadically from the late 1970s through the early 1990s) was able to last for longer than a few years before breaking up. Each lacked the focus that the war had provided the MBS.

By the late 1990s, most metaheroes acted independently, with a few exceptions such as the low-profile Living Legends Brigade (the LLB), a kind of social club for metahumans who occasionally acted as heroes. The Warriors had operated in Underwood until that city's destruction in 1993. But the most popular, most high-profile team of the day was undoubtedly the Seven Senses. Founded as the Six Senses under great fanfare in 1995 by sixteen-year-old prodigy Doug Silver, each member of the youthful team possessed the ability to alter reality, an ability that was both more powerful and easier to control when they acted together. The founding members of this team were Knight De Facto (the leader), Ace Martian, Caped Cadet, Generator, Brain Tech, and Hooligan. When its youngest member, the eleven-year-old Disco Stave, joined the team the following year in 1996, the team changed its name to the Seven Senses and became more popular than ever before. Even after the tragic death of Brain Tech in 1998 and his immediate replacement by metavillain-turned-metahero Albino Chameleon, a former enemy of the team, the Seven Senses members were on top of the world. Nothing seemed able to stop them.

Today, however, the front pages of every major newspaper in the world carried a variation on the following headline from the Thunder City Gazette:

"THE SEVEN SENSES DISBAND!"

No reasons were given to the public for the disbanding of what had outwardly seemed to be the metahero team with the most promise, but the tabloids had a field day. There had long been rumors of infighting between the members, especially concerning the newest member, Albino Chameleon. A.C., as he was called, was known to have a bad temper, and despite having a villain-to-hero story that had charmed the public, his personal life was in shambles. Insiders said that he was hard to deal with, that he had erratic mood swings that made him unpredictable and caused much tension with his teammates. Some tabloids even claimed that he had been brainwashed by the team into becoming a metahero, and that his recent bad behavior was his real personality breaking through after nearly a year of repression. Some claimed that the Seven Senses had broken up when Brain Tech died a year ago and had only made a few public appearances since then until they were ready to announce it to the world. One even claimed that A.C. had planned the disbanding of the team from the start, even going so far as suggesting -- without saying so -- that he had killed Brain Tech and replaced him on the team in order to accomplish as a team member what he had never been able to do as the team's enemy. Although they disagreed on the details, they all agreed that A.C. was to blame for the breakup.

The disbanding of the Seven Senses was much more than fodder for tabloids and gossip columnists. It had been the only team that worked closely with the Meta Board, and the only one easily called upon when disaster struck. The sheer power that the team wielded when together guaranteed that it was capable of handling almost any major threat that the Earth faced. The existence of extraterrestrials had been known to the public since the 1960s, after the first wave of minor invasions, mostly fought off by heroes such as the Metamen Five and Superfast Man. Although the world had not yet faced a massive, widespread extraterrestrial invasion, it lived in constant fear that such an invasion was inevitable. The disbanding of the Seven Senses was one more reason to fear that the Earth was not ready to face this inevitability.

The metahumans of the world, as powerful as they were, largely acted independently. This was seen as both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because, besides the threat of extraterrestrial invasion, the thing people feared most was a revolution of metahumans working together to conquer or destroy the world. It was a curse because all an extraterrestrial force had to do was realize that the metahero protectors of the world were divided, and that the first half of a divide-and-conquer strategy essentially had already been done for them. No single metahero held enough power to stop an entire invasion force, and only as a well-organized team could the metaheroes of the world keep the world safe from such a threat.

All these considerations and more brought the Meta Board's chairman and vice-chairman to UNBOM's newest piece of real estate, a refurbished extraterrestrial starship on the Moon that they had dubbed the Moontower. The chairman was a metahero variously known as Kohoutek, the Golden Comet, and currently Meta 7, since he was the seventh chairman of UNBOM. The Meta Board's vice-chairman was his old friend and his fellow teammate in the Metahero League of America a decade earlier, Damocles.

"Aren't you concerned about this?" Damocles said, slapping his hand over the newspaper headline for emphasis. "Our mobilization ability has just been cut in half."

The man who took his name after the Greek legend of the Sword of Damocles was a tall, imposing figure who wore an electronic mask with sensory equipment built within it and a navy blue and maroon bodysuit. He was not one of the most powerful metahumans, but he possessed limited shapechanging abilities that allowed him to alter his facial features as well as vary his height and body shape to impersonate almost anyone, and he could heal almost any injury he received short of decapitation. Still, he was most well known for his formidable martial arts and hand-to-hand combat abilities, and he preferred these acquired skills, often in concert with his signature metal quarterstaff that fired energy beams from either end, over his metahuman ones.

As his friend fretted over the news, Meta 7 calmly stood watching the Earth from under the massive glass dome above them. He was casually attired in a dark gray business suit made of advanced fabrics as strong and flexible as any other metahero costume. His face was uncovered, but this was an illusion. His real face was disguised using a technique known only to himself, and which only he could afford to maintain. After all, he was one of the wealthiest men in the world.

He was called Meta 7 now, but when he debuted in 1986, he initially called himself the Golden Comet. Strangely, he instead ended up being known by the world under his nickname of Kohoutek, thanks to a clever New York Times columnist. Boosting his profile with his own money, he had made himself very popular at the time, even being touted by Newsweek that year as the hero of the century, but no amount of money could keep his star from falling after he failed to live up to his press. He was soon found to be somewhat of a dud, quickly turning into simply another B-list metahero, one of many. It was to his credit that he took the situation well, formally adopting the nickname Kohoutek as his professional name in honor of both the 1973 comet that had granted him powers as a six-year old child, and the fact that the same comet had also failed to live up to its hype when it appeared. In 1987, Kohoutek helped found the Metahero League of America with other metaheroes of the time, including Damocles, Johnny Morphus, the Scout Marksman, and others. After the MLA disbanded in 1992, he was happy to take up the role of UNBOM chairman and quickly settled into the life of a bureaucrat under the name Meta 7. Still, it had been years since the glory days of the Meta Board under the leadership of Metaman. Ever since that original hero's retirement, the Board had been chaired by nothing but has-been metaheroes. Meta 7 idly wondered if there was any need at all for the Meta Board any longer.

He also began to think about cycles. He had been changed by the comet Kohoutek in 1973, when he was six years old. Thirteen years had passed until his power finally manifested itself in 1986, around the same time that Halley's Comet returned, and he used that power to become a world-famous metahero. It was now 1999, and another thirteen years had now passed, his power visibly waning in that time. He had been hoping that another comet would boost his power again on its own, as it had in 1986, but nothing had as yet happened. If a comet did not come to him, would he have to visit a comet?

"Tek, are you listening to me?" said Damocles, using the nickname Meta 7 had been called by his teammates in the MLA.

"Hmm?" said Meta 7, turning slightly. "Oh, right. The Seven Senses. It really is a shame about their breakup, isn't it?"

"It's more than just a shame, Tek. Unless we can sign a deal with the LLB, we've got no team to work with, and besides the other board members, only a handful of metas even know who we are any more. We're unable to mobilize a team in an emergency. It's only a matter of time before the rest of the world realizes how useless we are and sets up its own regulatory board. You can be sure that none of us will be invited to be a part of that."

"Dam, you worry too much," said Meta 7, chuckling. His longtime friend and ally appeared to the world to have a gruff, forbidding personality, but he knew that Damocles truly cared about the world, possibly more than was healthy. "I've... been working on something of my own as of late."

"You mean the team you put together for the Antarctica case?" laughed Damocles. "Tek, they were good enough to retrieve this starship for you, but from what you've told me, they hardly worked well together as a team. Whatever happened to them, anyway?"

Meta 7 was silent as he thought back to the recent case. He had sent out electronic invitations to meet him in Venice, Italy, to a number of possible candidates, including two Golden Age heroes -- Rhyme Guardian, who could control "rhyme energy," and the Trout, an aquatic hero. He had also invited Exile, a telepath from the FBI's fledgling metahuman agent program, and had spent a modest fortune securing the services of a formidable professional assassin with invisibility powers calling himself the Invisible Man. Rounding out the group were Spark, a metahero with ice powers, and Sente, a half-human, half-robot cyborg from the future who possessed death-vision and had apparently killed another metahero to get a spot at the meeting.

He had sent this motley crew of metahumans on a mission to Antarctica to retrieve an ancient starship buried miles beneath that continent's icy mantle before a Russian-American joint military expedition reached it. He had known there was a chance that the extraterrestrial beings within it, called the Basilisks, had been kept in suspended animation and would revive once the ship was interfered with. He had been correct. It turned out that there was a traitorous plot by a U.S. Army general to use the Seven Senses, who had been called in to protect the expedition, to open up an interdimensional void that would enable a massive extraterrestrial invasion. Instead, his group of metas -- joined by the young Disco Stave after the Invisible Man fled due to a breach of contract -- had been used by the Basilisks to open this void. It was only due to the sacrifice of most of these metas that the entryway to the void was closed, and the invasion was thwarted. Sente was the first to die, followed by the Trout. Exile and Spark, along with two young stowaways from Venice and their dog, were sucked into the void as it closed in order to save Disco Stave's life, and there was almost no chance that they had survived. Only Rhyme Guardian and Disco Stave lived to return from the mission, and by now they had already returned to their old lives.

"Two of them died," Meta 7 said simply, "and the others went missing."

"Ah. Sorry about that, old man. I'd forgotten."

"As has the world," Meta 7 muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" asked Damocles. "I didn't catch that."

"I just said it's not a problem. Anyway, I wasn't referring to that group. Forming such a team was an experiment in mobilization, and it worked, at least for its own purposes. Still, it was only a short-term solution. For the long-term, we need a team willing to stick together and train endlessly to become a well-oiled machine. I've already set a plan in motion to gather such a team."

Beneath his mask, Damocles' right eyebrow rose in puzzlement. "What have you done, Tek?"

"Don't worry," Meta 7 said, laughing at his friend's panicked voice. "I was planning on running it by the board this week."

Damocles had folded his arms together. "Well? Are you going to tell me what's happened, or do I have to guess for myself?"

"I never was able to keep secrets from you for very long," Meta 7 agreed. "No, as much as I like to play my cards close to the chest, I feel that the time is right to be as completely transparent about my plans as possible. Dam, I'm planning a recruitment drive for a new team."

"Are you crazy?" asked Damocles. "There's no way you'll be able to convince a lot of independent-minded metaheroes to join into this 'well-oiled machine' you keep harping on about."

Meta 7 said, "How do you think the MBS was formed?"

"You're not FDR, and this isn't World War II," replied Damocles. "Metaheroes just aren't interested in working together any longer. They've each got their own careers, their own territories, and their own reasons for doing what they do. That's why we need to start looking for another group like the Seven Senses, a group that's like a family, one comprising members who have never worked solo. We could try approaching the LLB again. Or maybe we could try tracking down the members of that team from Underwood. You know, the Warriors? I heard a rumor about Tobias Christopher, the speedster, being active somewhere in California. If we could locate him and the other team members to reunite, we could sponsor them, raise their profile, and make them into another Seven Senses-type team. That's the kind of group that works best in this day and age, not a modern-day MBS."

"I'm sorry, Dam, but you're wrong," said Meta 7.

"And what makes you so sure?" said Damocles.

"I've already got more than sixty interested candidates, several of them A-listers."

Damocles was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, "Go on..."

Meta 7 strolled back to his desk and sat down in his leather chair, resting his feet on the desk's surface. "After the Antarctica case -- in fact, immediately after taking possession of the Moontower -- I sent a question to all the users on the Meta Board's Internet site. You know, the networking site I set up, despite your protests, to allow metaheroes to keep in touch with each other? Well, it seems that the site has turned out to be as hot as any dating site for letting metas hook up with each other, for crime-fighting and... other pursuits." He winked, and Damocles rolled his eyes beneath his mask. "Anyway, I simply asked people which seven heroes they would want to form a 'Meta Board League,' and the response was tremendous. The message had been a throwaway idea, a desperate reach, but it turned out to strike a chord with a lot of metaheroes out there.

"So I hired a research agency to find out answers to a few questions I had. It turns out that metas are now, more than ever, willing to meet and work together. And from the polling data and site stats, I've learned that there are larger numbers of metas working together as unofficial teams than ever before. I think the days of the lone hero are fading away, Dam. And if we don't jump on board at the outset, it's going to pass us by, and then we'll really be as redundant as we already feel."

Damocles had been pacing back and forth, facing the ground, while Meta 7 spoke. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"I'm going to hold a board meeting tomorrow," said Meta 7. "I've got the polling results here, and I expect every board member to review all the prospective candidates for the team. The following week, I want to invite all of those candidates to the Moontower, where we'll hold trials for membership in the new team. That way, we can be sure to procure only the best of the best."

"And how will you invite them here?"

"Through the Meta Board site. I'll set up transporter tubes at key locations to allow easy access here for approved candidates."

Damocles held up his right index finger. "I still have one question, Tek."

"Mm?"

"What makes you sure that only metaheroes are using the site? What if metavillains happen to be logging on under false identities? Won't they know all about your plans?"

"Damocles, my good man," said Meta 7, "I'm counting on that."

[dans]

Doc, OK if I create an origin for SuperFast Man?

[DocQuantum]

Sure, go for it!

[DocQuantum]

CHAPTER 2: THE MOONTOWER

The Moontower was a misnomer. It was not a tower. It was much, much bigger than a tower. A better word applied to it would be mountain, and a large mountain, at that. At nearly five miles in diameter, it was about the size of Mount Everest. Its shape was round, like a globe, and at this moment it was buried halfway underground, its top half popping out from a five-mile-wide crater on the Moon.

If it was large from the outside, the inside was massive. The scale was truly impossible to guess. Within it were chambers as tall and wide as skyscrapers, filled with numerous matter-transmuting engines. It was, in short, a small, hollow planet meant to house many generations of beings for long-term space travel. And that is what it had been, millennia ago, when it brought a race of reptilian extraterrestrials to this world.

Now, it was under the care of Meta 7, former metahero and current chairman of the U.N. Board of Metahumans, commonly called the Meta Board. He had named it the Moontower for the fact that it was a tower on the Moon that overlooked the Earth, but it was more akin to a dome or even a bubble. He was fond of the name, though, so he had an actual tower constructed atop the dome of the extraterrestrial ship, and the Moontower was created. It was the perfect headquarters for a metahero team. All it lacked was the team. That was about to change.

Meta 7 had invited the members of the Meta Board to meet for the first time at the Moontower to discuss his plans. Already a few had arrived, and others were just arriving.

"Walrus!" Meta 7 said, smiling as he slapped his old friend, Chewy Walrus, on the back. "Thank you for accepting the position on the Meta Board."

"Well, it's provisional," the Walrus replied. He was a serious-looking, slightly paunchy, brown-haired man wearing a blue costume with goggles that made him look like the scientist he had once been. "I haven't made up my mind to stay just yet. I'm... not really a bureaucrat."

"Oh, of course," replied Meta 7. "But I do appreciate your help. You'd be surprised, but there were hardly any takers when Doctor Quantum gave up his seat on the board earlier this year. Well, hardly anyone notable... yourself excepted, of course." He paused to smile. "So how is the EPS treating you these days?"

"Oh, same old, same old," said the metahero. He smiled and said thoughtfully, "I've been with the Elitum Protection Squadron for fifteen years, now, but... well, heck if I know why the Shark hasn't given me more leadership responsibilities. Gosh knows I've earned it."

"'Leadership responsibilities,' hmm?" Meta 7 pondered. "Keep that in mind, old friend. We may need someone with your experience in just such a position."

"Don't get me wrong, Kohoutek," the Walrus replied. "I'm not ready to pack it in just yet. The EPS has been good to me. Let's just say that I'm... open to possibilities."

"I fully understand," Meta 7 said, smiling knowingly. "And this must be... the Worm?"

A younger man, about twenty years old had come up to stand next to the Walrus. The Worm wore a dark green jumpsuit with a cowled mask covering his head and the upper half of his face. "They call me Grow Worm, sir," he said, shaking Meta 7's hand.

"Oh?" said Meta 7, amused. "And why is that?"

Grow Worm's arm went limp and drooped, falling to the ground like a piece of chewed gum that had been stretched too far. His hand, however, was still clutching Meta 7's. "Well, as you can see, I have the same powers as my partner," the Worm said, grinning.

"Excellent, excellent," Meta 7 said. "And how are you finding the EPS? Besides the colorful monickers, how are they treating you? Are they providing you enough challenges?"

The Worm glanced briefly at the Walrus and said, "I've been mostly happy with my work at the EPS since I joined a couple of years ago. We've really made a difference. But... I'm also open to possibilities."

"That's just what I like to hear," said Meta 7. He watched as Chewy Walrus and Grow Worm took their seats, the Walrus at the board's panel as the official EPS liaison, and the Worm in the guest's section.

Meta 7's smile faded somewhat as he spotted two young metaheroes walk over to him. "Ah, and how are you lads?" he asked. "Is it too much to hope for a Seven Senses reunion?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," said Ace Martian, the English telepathic member of the team, a teenager with unkempt dirty blonde hair and glasses with round frames who wore a dark blue cloak over a blue-and-black costume. "Too much water under the bridge."

"Right," said Meta 7. He was smiling politely but could not easily hide his impatience with the young metaheroes. He completely ignored the smallest and youngest of the two, the thirteen-year-old Disco Stave, only addressing Ace. "And will we be expecting Mr. Silver today?"

"Ah, about that..." said Ace sheepishly. "Doug... wasn't able to make it to the meeting today. He's asked me to fill in on his place at the board."

"He's really sorry about it," offered Disco Stave, who wore a blue costume with white boots and gloves and a full-face mask open at the scalp to reveal a shock of brown hair. Meta 7 glanced at the boy briefly and looked away.

"No Knight De Facto, then," Meta 7 said, speaking of Doug Silver's professional name as leader of the Seven Senses. "Well, I'm sure it won't make a difference one way or another." He waved at someone in the distance and flashed that person a smile. "You can find your seats over there," he said offhandedly to the two teenaged metaheroes. He walked away from them and approached the man he had greeted. "Nightwatch! How are you, old boy?"

Ace glanced at Disco. Neither of them were feeling very welcome at this party.

After several minutes, all twelve members of the Meta Board had assembled. Besides the chairman, Meta 7, the following metaheroes were present:

• Ace Martian, Seven Senses liaison (filling in for the absent Doug Silver);
• Chewy Walrus, Elitum Protection Squadron liaison;
• Crimson Bluestar, future metahero representative and liaison for the 31st century's Legion of Meta Protectors;
• Damocles, the Meta Board's vice-chairman;
• The Great Smidgen, Golden Age metahero representative;
• Her Majesty's Champion (HMC), representative of the Forgotten Metaheroes;
• Mycroft, non-meta detective hero representative;
• Nightwatch, European metahero representative;
• Primate, teenaged hero representative;
• The Scout Marksman, non-meta athletic hero representative;
• Superfast Man, Silver Age metahero representative;
• Sky Bull (officially "Sky Urus," but everyone called him Sky Bull), former member of the Metamen 5.

In the guest section of the hall were the following:

• Disco Stave, former Seven Senses member and guest of Ace Martian;
• Grow Worm, EPS agent and guest of Chewy Walrus;
• Johnny Morphus, former Metahero League of America member and guest of Meta 7;
• Matthias Apostle, former Metahero League of America member and guest of Damocles.

Meta 7 stood, addressing the U.N. Board of Metahumans. "Gentlemen, as per my instructions, you've all brought with you a list of nominees, worthy metaheroes who would make excellent members of a Meta Board League. I'd like each of you to tell me what you've prepared." He looked to the tall man next to him. "Vice-chairman?"

"Thank you, chairman," said Damocles, standing as Meta 7 took his seat. "Now, I must admit that, when our chairman told me his plans for creating a new metahero team to work under the aegis of the Meta Board, I had my doubts. Since then, I've allowed the idea to grow on me, and I've been carefully researching potential candidates. If you'll all turn to the screen..."

Damocles used a remote control to dim the lights as the screen lit up with a photograph of an intense-looking man in his early thirties, with swept-back, short dark hair and thick, horn-rimmed glasses worn ironically. He was dressed in jeans and an untucked, dark button-up shirt. Besides his intensity, he looked completely normal, except for the strange-looking keyboard strapped in front of him, upon which he was busily typing. A small holographic screen that he was intensely focused on was projected from the keyboard.

"This is the Write Guy," said Damocles. "He's not a widely known hero, but his abilities hold much potential. He can use a device he calls his Cosmic Keyboard, which he says gives him 'artistic license' over reality..." He paused as a few people chuckled mildly. "The device actually focuses his inborn meta-ability, allowing him to do things that even the most powerful of us cannot, such as bending reality to his will himself. The Write Guy can use his device to turn his own ideas into hard fact, within certain limitations. Simply put, if he writes it, it happens. With his device he can also travel into other dimensions, allowing him to access parallel worlds." He clicked for the next slide.

"Shaggy Faust," Damocles said, displaying a photograph of a tall, lanky man in his late twenties and appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a rock star. He had an overall retro-mod look with a few current touches and, with his sunglasses and expensive fur-lined jacket, resembled Lenny Kravitz. "None of us are completely certain what his metapowers are, but doesn't he look cool?" A few more people laughed this time. "Seriously, have any of you had a conversation with this man? He provides among the most entertaining and intelligent dialogue in anyone I've ever met. In fact, that's the key to his success. Once you hear his voice, he can talk you into doing literally anything."

"Why don't you marry him?" someone shouted, and several people laughed.

"Who was that?" Damocles said, laughing. "Smidgen, was that you? You know I'm spoken for, old-timer." More laughter.

"Can we get on with it?" Meta 7 interrupted.

"Of course, of course," said Damocles, bringing up the next slide, a photograph of an alluring, dark-haired woman who wore a black and blue costume, the black parts appearing to be as dark as a shadow. "Obsidienne. She has the ability to restore confidence in our too-often all-male metahuman get-togethers by bringing a touch of feminine charm. Her actual metapower is her manipulation of of darkness, but I've heard rumors of other metapowers. I'm willing to allow her in, if she gives us some input on her other miraculous abilities." He clicked the next slide.

"Agent F7," Damocles said as he showed a photograph of a bare field, with a small shrubbery right in the middle of it, and nothing else. "As you can see, or perhaps as you cannot see, he -- or she, since we really cannot know for sure -- is very good at not being seen. He has built a reputation for himself in the intelligence community for being the ultimate information gathering superspy, who could constantly work behind the scenes to help the team without ever being recognized. Agent F7, an expert in disguise, has been known to show up under various assumed personas. You know, like, 'Was that really just a janitor... or was that Agent F7?'" More laughter. Damocles clicked to the next slide.

"The Cavalier Genius," said Damocles, as a photograph appeared of a smiling, confident-looking Latino man with a dark goatee, who wore a black-and-gold swashbuckling outfit with a knight-and-horse insignia and a wide-brimmed hat and carried a sword. "He would be the brains of the outfit, simply because of his extensive knowledge of history and numerous other subjects." He clicked to the next slide.

"Sigma," he said as a photograph appeared of a young African-American man wearing a form-fitting, all-white costume with a black logo in the shape of the sigma (Σ), the eighteenth letter in the Greek alphabet, "the heart and soul of any team, he can choose from amongst any one of eighteen powers that he wishes, except he can only use each one at a time."

"And then there would be..." Damocles clicked to the next slide, which turned out to be a photograph of himself in his blue mask and navy blue and maroon bodysuit. The board members laughed. "...me. As most of you know, I am able to change my shape to a limited degree. I have a wide variety of weapons influenced by the finest weapons makers in the business, including a metal quarterstaff that fires energy beams from either end, a handy device, let me tell you.

"As well, I'm able to use my control over my physical form to heal most wounds, and my physical abilities are roughly four or five times better than that of the average Olympic athlete. I'm a pretty impressive unarmed combatant, if I do say so myself, and I have a specially built helicopter. My mask has sensor equipment built into it. Finally, a heart of gold beats beneath my brooding, tough guy exterior." At that, several board members laughed raucously and began clapping.

After the laughter died down, Meta 7 stood and said, "Quite a performance, Dam. I'm glad to see you've taken this so seriously."

"Thank you," said Damocles. "I try."

Meta 7 shook his head, trying to keep from smiling. "Now, perhaps we could get back to the business of selecting our team. Johnny Morphus? I believe you were telling me earlier that you had an intriguing proposal for the team."

"Thanks, Kohoutek," said Johnny Morphus, standing to address the board from the guests' section. Johnny had short-cropped auburn hair and wore a bronze-colored, multi-patterned costume with a long green cape and green gloves. "And thanks to all of you for allowing me to visit today. My idea is to create not merely another Metahero League of America, like the one a few of us were members of a decade ago, but instead a new twist on that old idea."

The lights dimmed once more, as Johnny waved his hands, using his power to cause shimmering, three-dimensional images to form in the chamber.

"Welcome to the MLI, or Metahero League International..." he said as the images coalesced into dreamlike versions of a few familiar-looking heroes, including some who were present at the meeting. One image stood and began to run very quickly, racing circles around the others. This was a speedster dressed head-to-toe in a form-fitting red uniform with blue and gold fringes and wearing a yellow visor.

"Superfast Man," said Johnny, "or, as some of us call him behind his back, Superfast Know-it-all Man."

"Hey!" half-heartedly protested Superfast Man, who couldn't help but laugh with the others.

"Sorry, Superfast," said Johnny. "Because of his experience, he'd make the perfect team leader. Hey, he's superfast and he knows it all, baby..."

The image of Superfast dissipated now, replaced by the image of the "rock star" metahero seen earlier. "Shaggy Faust," said Johnny. "Our vice-chairman skimped a bit on the details of his metapowers earlier, but I happen to know that he bartered his soul for ultimate knowledge of pop culture and cool lingo."

The image disappeared, replaced by one resembling none other than the chairman himself, looking powerful in his dark gray business suit. "Meta 7," said Johnny, "thought to be mad by the world at large, the trees tell him a different story."

"Very funny, Johnny," said Meta 7.

Another image appeared, this time of a tough-looking figure wearing a red cloak with a peaked red hood and carrying a large firearm, with two scantily clad women hanging onto his legs in a classic sword-and-sorcery pose. "Cardinal Synn," said Johnny, "who offends evil into submission with sarcasm and a big #^@%!*& gun. The power to summon sexy pixies as backup doesn't suck, either." Several people laughed.

The image changed to the same man typing madly on a keyboard as seen earlier. "Write Guy," said Johnny, "he writes... and it is." He waved his hand again, erasing the image and slowly forming a new one.

"And of course, Chewy Walrus and his faithful sidekick, Grow Worm," said Johnny, as the images of the two EPS agents in their blue and green costumes formed in mid-air, stretching their arms and legs to incredible lengths.

"Wha...?" gasped the Walrus.

"'Faithful sidekick'?!" said the Worm.

"The bendable, edible defenders of right are back... to have crime... take a bite out of them," concluded Johnny, winking.

"I do believe we've been insulted, Worm," said Chewy Walrus amidst the laughter.

"Very theatrical, Johnny," said Meta 7. "I see some of you have had a bit of fun with your assignment."

"And don't forget that Cardinal Synn is really the second coming of our original team's member, Mister Synn," said Superfast Man.

"He died and came back... how novel," said Grow Worm, rolling his eyes, as he spoke to the others in the guest section. "Why haven't any other metaheroes ever used this idea?" He then said, loud enough for the board to hear, "Oh, yeah, and Superfast? I know you know it all, and all, but wasn't the Golden Age Mister Synn a part of the Mysterymen Board Society, and then was reborn in the present day as Cardinal Synn? I think I read the files on that somewhere..."

"Actually, now that you mention it, Worm," said Superfast Man, "I seem to remember, during a crisis back in the eighties, most of us returned unscathed, yet there was no Mister Synn. Then came this Cardinal Synn fellow. A replacement? Or is he the immortal one who saved our world from the evil and wicked antimatter world? Hmm... This is something we should check out."

Chewy Walrus glanced at the Worm and said to Superfast Man, "Well, actually, I believe if you looked into it further, it's more or less obvious that the mysterious figure in question is actually Mister Synn's son from the former alternate Earth-Z, snatched to safety in the nick of time by the Arch-Moderator for his own nefarious schemes. Wasn't that a crisis, though? Woo, my mouth was dry for weeks!"

Meta 7 threw his hands in the air in disgust, saying, "There goes another meeting."

"Okay, okay, here's my Meta Board League," said Nightwatch, grinning as he stood. The English metahero was dressed in a half-masked black costume with a red line running diagonally across the chest like a sash, a fringe of gold along the collar, golden lines running down his arms and legs and golden gloves, and he wore a black fedora. "Mycroft: the ability to obsess about totally inane details at a crime scene." He paused for laughter. "Harpy-Wing: the power to distract Mycroft from his sleuthing by being totally hilarious and throwing in pop culture references at a whim." More laughter. "Throne: the ability to piss off Chief G by mentioning his ex-girlfriend, Harpy-Wing." Still more laughter. "Chief G: the ability to have a discussion about anything without bringing up Harpy-Wing." A few chuckles. "Meta 7: the ability to come up with whacked-out ideas."

"Nightwatch: the ability to have a cable guide for the next hundred years implanted in his mind," quipped Mycroft, who wore a Sherlock Holmes-inspired costume, complete with a deerstalker cap and pipe. "I know how much you like to watch."

"Har-de-har-har," said Nightwatch flatly as the others laughed.

"All right, all right," said Meta 7 as the laughter began dying down. "Can we please get back to the purpose of our meeting? Does anyone else have a lineup? Preferably one worth mentioning?"

The room was quiet for several long moments.

Finally, everyone turned as the thirteen-year-old Disco Stave stood and said, "I have a list of heroes."

Meta 7 stared at him and smiled nervously. "Go on, by all means."

Disco Stave said, "The Meta League of America would consist of the Arch-Moderator, with the omnipotent power to change time. Superfast Man -- he's super-fast, and he knows it all. Myself, with the catch phrase, 'My real name isn't even Steve!' Chewy Walrus and Grow Worm, the League's stretchy dudes. Agent F7, the mysterious one. And the Write Guy -- he writes!"

The board was quiet, and then a few people clapped at his lineup suggestion as Disco sat down. Ace Martian flashed Disco an approving smile.

"You did good, kid," rasped the Great Smidgen, a short, bald, mustachioed, old metahero in a red and blue circus muscleman costume whose heyday was in the 1940s.

"'And a child shall lead them'," whispered Damocles to Meta 7.

Nightwatch stood up again and said, "Thank you, Disco Stave, for getting us back on track. I actually did bring a serious suggestion, but Steve brought up an interesting angle, whether intentionally or not, when he called the new team the 'Meta League of America'... As you know, I'm English, and the majority of my cases take place in the U.K. or mainland Europe. I've worked in several European countries, in fact, several times alongside metaheroes in those nations. So... while I've brought my own list of nominees for a Meta Board League, I'd like you to consider my proposal for a separate team altogether.

"Okay, so you have your 'Meta League of America.' Now it's time for the Meta League of Europe, consisting of..." He used a remote control to launch a holographic projection in the center area in front of the board, and a figure identical to himself appeared. "...myself, Nightwatch, able to see beyond ordinary human vision, allowing me to see from afar places across the globe and even glimpse into the future. I am also a teleporter, able to instantaneously travel to virtually anywhere in the world. My mind's-eye vision also helps me to teleport to the right place. It's one of the reasons I took the name Nightwatch."

"We all know you got the name from the painting, 'Watch," shouted Mycroft, referring to Rembrandt van Rijn's famous 1642 painting, The Night Watch or De Nachtwacht.

"Sure, but that was after I'd already gained my powers," added Nightwatch, shrugging. "I could've just called myself Teleporto or something, to go with the theme." He clicked to the next hologram, a figure wearing nondescript dark clothing with his hands over his face, as if adjusting a mask. "Agent F7, master of disguise, spy extraordinaire and walking encyclopedia, who I must point out is also English, not American, so he wouldn't be in the MLA." The next hologram depicted a raven-haired woman wearing a long, purple robe, with sparkling energy seeming to radiate from her jewelry-covered hands. "Kazmantra, the mystic of the group." Another hologram depicted a man dressed in formal attire, wearing a black and gray suit with a top hat and white gloves and holding a silver cane for show. "The Silver Troubleshooter, the perfect gentleman of the group." The next hologram showed a man wearing a brown costume with a masked and hooded cape. "Hammerman, whose superstrength and superspeed last for all of 14 minutes. All these are Brits."

Another hologram depicted a man dressed in red and black in a costume akin to the devil's whose hands were completely engulfed in yellow-red flame. "Hellstone of Sweden, who can generate flame-bursts both large and small." The next hologram showed a huge, powerfully built, lizardlike green man wearing no costume at all. "Espen Saltfjord of Norway, who claims to be a relative of the Loch Ness monster." The final hologram showed a confident-looking young man in a tight red T-shirt and black jeans with wild, long black hair shooting from his scalp at all angles. "And Musgosu of Spain, the foe of monsters everywhere (except our own lizard monster, of course) who can make someone relive the same moment twice to catch them off-guard, a terrific deja vu ability. In fact, I've theorized that each deja vu moment creates a new independent timeline of reality, and should be interpreted with an indefinable sub-text, henceforth I'd coin his power as terrifi-deja-nu."

Nightwatch turned off the hologram projector. "Now, don't misunderstand me -- I haven't actually created the Meta League of Europe yet, but I plan on contacting each of the prospective members and asking them to join this team. Perhaps one team we create could protect America and the other Europe. The MLA and the MLE should be under the umbrella of the Meta Board League, the international advisory group overseeing both teams."

"If we go with this very good idea," said the Great Smidgen in his rasping, hoarse voice, "then there should also be a sub-team for the young metas of the world, a kind of training team. This could be made up of the most important junior members of the MBL, but the lineup would constantly change as people graduate into full-fledged status. As one of the youngest metaheroes during the Golden Age, I can understand what it's like to start out as a hero among the greats, so I'd be willing to volunteer to help train these young fellas."

"Sounds a lot like the Seven Senses," Ace Martian muttered to Disco Stave, who snickered.

"Did you have something to add, Mr. Martian?" said Meta 7 coldly.

"Uh..."

"Go on, youngster," croaked the Great Smidgen eagerly. "What's your lineup for the league?"

"My Meta Board League?" said Ace, looking down as if pondering whether he dared to say what was on his mind. After a moment's thought he said, "Well, if I'd had a choice, I would pick only the most powerful metaheroes and metaheroines in the world -- only the big shots. It would include Knight De Facto, Generator, Brain Tech, Disco Stave, Caped Cadet, Hooligan and... Ace Martian, naturally. Seven members, all having the same powers -- the ability to recreate reality." As if realizing he had brought the mood down, he smiled and added, "Naturally, the Arch-Moderator would be invited to fill in as the rotating member, since he could destroy the entire universe with a mere twist of his pinkie." Ace sat down as a few people smiled and chuckled at his ill-placed attempt at humor.

"That was beautiful, man," said Disco Stave. "I miss the Seven Senses, too."

"And I'll reluctantly join as the eighth member when I save the team during an adventure with my diamond-tipped arrow," quipped the Scout Marksman, a red-haired, bearded man wearing a tan-colored suede archer's outfit, as he flippantly posed with his arrow. After a moment's laughter, he said, "Sorry, guys. I couldn't resist."

"@$$#*!%," muttered Ace quietly.

"Are there any other serious nominees for the team?" said Meta 7.

At that, Matthias Apostle, a blonde young man wearing a white choir robe, stood and said, "Okay, here goes. My candidates for the seven are Obsidienne, the Write Guy, Superfast Man, Meta 7, Nightwatch, Dragnet Zero and myself -- I can do that, can't I?"

"Sure, why not?" said Meta 7. "Everyone else seems to be doing it. And thank you for including at least one new candidate in your list, Matt. Dragnet Zero would be a good choice. Now, if there aren't any other nominees..."

"Prometheus X deserves a spot," offered Grow Worm. A few chuckled nervously at the suggestion, thinking it a joke.

Nightwatch had been squinting as he stared into the shadows in the corner of the room. His eyes, able to see beyond the range of human vision, first perceived that one of those shadows slowly seemed to take form and move into view. "The X," he whispered under his breath.

"Grow Worm..."

The mysterious being known only as Prometheus X stood among the metaheroes now, most of whom gasped, startled at how they had not noticed him there before.

"...you honor me with your mention for membership. Yet, I must decline." The others were too awestruck to say anything as the X continued. "I am but a... stranger... who goes where he is needed. Right now, I must depart through the ephemeral mists that separate the universes. I must reclaim your soul from the evil that is your image." And with this puzzling message left hanging in the air, he was gone, this stranger, like a phantom.

No one spoke for several moments. Although all had heard rumors of Prometheus X, only a few people in the room had ever seen him in person before. Finally, Meta 7 broke the silence and said, "And that, gentlemen, was the X. Impressive, I know, but if we could continue...? I'd like to end our meeting for now and arrange a time in the next few days when we can bring all our nominees, and a few others, to the Moontower for trials. This meeting is hereby adjourned."

[dans]

Doc, is SuperFast Man going to be a guest cameo or a continuing player? I can already see that the origin I had in mind for him is going to need to be adjusted. So if he is going to continue to get screen time, I will need to wait before I dive further into that origin. Or maybe pick someone else with a name I really like and work on that one instead. Thanks!

[DocQuantum]

Yes, he is one of the players in this cast of characters for this story only.

[DocQuantum]

CHAPTER 3: ENTER THE DANGER ROOM

Though it had only been active for a short while, the Moontower complex already stood as a beacon of hope and protection for the people of Earth. Its mountainous silhouette on the Moon against the vast expanse of space was a powerful symbol large enough to be visible from Earth. Within this Moon base, the Meta Board meeting had recently concluded, but discussions and tensions continued outside the meeting room, where newcomers who had observed from afar now gathered to explore their potential roles in this formidable assembly of heroes. Metaheroes from all over the world had been invited to take part in such informal discussions and now mingled in the spacious meeting areas.

The enigmatic appearance of the mysterious stranger known only as Prometheus X in particular had left the assembled metaheroes in awe and intrigue. The strange being's words had echoed through the Moontower like enigmatic riddles, leaving many questions unanswered. His vanishing act had been equally astonishing, a departure shrouded in mystery.

SuperStretch, a metahero known for his humor, couldn't resist adding a touch of levity. "Talk about a phantom menace, huh?" quipped the tall, lanky, rubbery-looking man in the bright yellow and blue skintight costume, earning a few chuckles. "Er... on second thought... please don't!" he added playfully. In a somewhat more serious tone, he added, "Anyway, let's just hope there are no more surprises, am I right?"

Grow Worm voiced the disbelief that many felt. "I still can't believe Pro X showed up! His appearing and vanishing like that was like something out of a comic-book! Hmm... I can't help but wonder if he was watching the whole meeting from wherever in the space-time cosmos he likes to hang out in. He tends to show up only when some kind of epic danger is on the horizon. I just wish I knew what he meant by that cryptic statement of his, something about needing to reclaim my soul from the evil that is my image."

"Hmm..." mused Chewy Walrus, his mentor. "Indeed, to my ears it sounded like a warning of some kind. It certainly bears some looking into, at any rate." The Worm only nodded in response, beginning to fret over what it could have meant.

A masked man clad in dark leather from head to toe called the Mauler, who aspired to join the Meta League of Europe, said to the Worm, "I'd like to request MLE membership, but before I do so, I may have to change my alias to Mister Mauler in tribute to the tragic hero of the Mystery Men, that legendary meta-team of the Golden Age!"

Grow Worm, welcoming the distraction from his worries, began to reminisce about the valiant efforts of that fabled team. "Ah, the Mystery Men, they fought valiantly," he said, recalling what he'd read while training to become an EPS agent. "What a shame that team ended after their fateful battle in 1941 when the Nazis sent those Nordic giants against them -- pure evil!"

Kid Beacon, the young optimist, couldn't contain his delight over being at the Moontower and was willing to tell anyone around him how he felt about it. "You know what? I am very, very pleased with this new hangout!" he exclaimed as he spoke with two teen heroes called Xenolith and Primate. "Not only can we just sit around and chit chat about nonsense and randomness, but we can also have a good time about it! And look how much cooler we are with each other. 'Cause I'm cool with most people, and... I mean... I dunno for sure, 'cause I may not have psychic powers or anything, but I think people here are cool with me, too, and... uh... that makes me smile."

"Totally agree with you, man," replied Xenolith. "Now, about those flowers I was asking you guys about..."

A few feet away, Musgosu, the wild-haired young hero of Spain in his red T-shirt and black jeans, spoke enthusiastically about a particular nomination. "Scout Marksman, you would be a great addition if Shaggy Faust isn't interested in joining. We need all the help we can get!"

The Scout Marksman smiled and replied, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm content to help usher in the next generation of heroes. My days as a globe-trotting member of the Meta League of America are long over."

Amidst discussions about membership, a mysterious and enigmatic figure stood apart from the rest. Cloaked in tattered, shadowy garb and a hood that hid his face, the Cursed Wanderer was bound by a relentless curse, fated to wander ceaselessly, while inexorably being drawn toward danger like a moth to a flame. Despite the many perils he has faced, he was not fated to meet his end for many years to come. He knew exactly how he would die someday, just as he possessed knowledge of many other future events that he was prohibited from revealing to others. Knowing the outcomes of impending disasters, he was nevertheless powerless to change their course.

"I'd love to join a team such a fate was permitted to me," the Wanderer said dourly, his eyes emitting an eerie, otherworldly glow. "Alas, I'm cursed to wander endlessly through various places, never having a permanent home, and constantly drawn to wherever danger is about to strike."

Two costumed men stood atop a platform overlooking the mingling metaheroes assembled below.

"You planned this the whole time, didn't you?" remarked Damocles. "You knew we weren't just going to have some board meeting with invited guests only. No, while we were in there discussing possible membership for a proposed meta-team, you had already thrown open the doors and invited in the whole metahuman world to take a look at your amazing Moontower."

Meta 7 nodded and took a sip from his drink. "Of course, Dam. How else to create an unstoppable movement but to gather the types of heroes who would normally never even meet down there on Earth unless some type of major crisis was at hand? Since as you earlier pointed out most metaheroes tend to work alone, the idea of being part of a larger group must be planted within their minds. Why not begin with a celebration... a party, if you will?"

"Ah, I see," said Damocles, marveling at his close friend's plan. "I don't often realize how forward-thinking you are sometimes, Tek. But before you get too swell-headed, I must point out that in letting in a bunch of metaheroes unvetted, you've also let in a few dangerous types that skirt the line between hero and villain. I've already spotted some in the crowd. But it's not those that concern me, it's the ones I don't recognize at all."

Damocles faced Meta 7 and peered into his eyes as he said, "You might just wish for a party atmosphere to get your 'movement' going, Tek, but what if instead this crowd instead ends up drawing the kind of 'major crisis' that would normally bring them together?"

The once and former Kohoutek merely smiled and said, "You must have faith, my friend. Are there not great heroes enough here to tackle any crisis?"

Damocles just shook his head and hoped his instincts were wrong.

***

Within the expansive confines of the Moontower, where metaheroes convened to discuss their newfound mission and the impending challenges, an undercurrent of camaraderie and purpose flowed. Yet not all who ventured within the cosmic complex shared these noble aims, as one of the greatest metaheroes was soon to find out.

In a distant and obscure corner of the sprawling Moontower, Superfast Man, driven by an insatiable curiosity that had defined his existence both in costume and in his civilian identity, had embarked on a solitary exploration. The astonishing superhuman speed of the man in the red costume with blue and gold fringes allowed him to traverse the labyrinthine corridors with ease, his mind racing as he explored the ancient vessel.

"All right, let's see what secrets you're hiding, Moontower," Superfast Man said aloud, peering through his protective yellow visor as he zoomed through the corridors. "This place is massive, and I'm just scratching the surface."

It had dawned on Superfast Man that the Moontower, a colossal structure visible from Earth's surface, held enigmatic origins. As he sped through it, he marveled at the astonishing level of technology concealed within its colossal frame. His suspicions grew with every room he discovered, each one a testament to the ship's extraterrestrial origins. As he moved from one chamber to another, the scale of this alien invasion vessel became increasingly apparent.

One room he encountered was an advanced laboratory, replete with devices that boggled the mind. "Holographic displays, arcane tech -- this is beyond anything I've ever seen. And to think this is just a fraction of it!"

Superfast Man's heart raced with excitement as he realized how little of this wondrous ship had been explored before. His curiosity propelled him deeper into the heart of the Moontower, far from the prying eyes of the other metaheroes who had gathered there at Meta 7's invitation.

In his whirlwind exploration, Superfast Man discovered an arsenal of futuristic weaponry, each piece an enigma waiting to be unraveled. He marveled at the advanced technology, pondering the possibilities. "Futuristic weaponry, sleek designs -- these could change the game back on Earth!"

Another chamber revealed itself as a hangar for sleek-looking scout ships preserved for centuries. The potential uses for these ignited Superfast Man's imagination. "Scout ships in suspended animation, interstellar travel possibilities -- the potential here is mind-blowing!"

However, his exploration took an abrupt and chilling turn when he was caught off-guard by an unexpected assailant. From the shadows emerged Cap Fury, a ruthless mercenary who harbored a deep-seated antipathy for magic. Cap Fury, a seasoned antagonist to metahumans, had prepared for this encounter, knowing the tricks Superfast Man might employ.

"Cap Fury?" muttered Superfast Man. This isn't good. He's got a bone to pick with metaheroes.

In the ensuing one-sided battle, Superfast Man's attempts to outmaneuver his assailant were futile after Cap Fury unleashed a powerful energy-based blow that struck Superfast Man with unerring precision.

Damn it, he's good. That energy blow came out of nowhere! mused Superfast Man, but he quickly realized the situation was worse than he had thought. "All of my super-speed -- completely drained from me?! What did you do, Cap Fury?"

As Superfast Man lay incapacitated and weakened, Cap Fury took a moment to light a cigar before replying, his voice dripping with smug triumph. "So much for your vaunted speed, hotshot," he taunted, and blew a smoke ring into the air. "No hard feelings, 'kay? Just business. Some people are payin' me a lot o' money to get you out of the way. That sucker-punch I just handed you didn't only take away your powers, pal -- it's takin' you straight outta reality itself!"

What a mess, Superfast Man thought, struggling in vain to get to his feet. And what was that about taking me out of reality? As he lay there defeated, he looked at his hand. He could see right through it, as it was slowly becoming transparent along with the rest of his body. Looks like I underestimated this situation. The others have their hands full, and now... I'm in a real bind.

By the time Superfast Man had completely disappeared into another dimension, Cap Fury was already walking away without looking back, ready to receive his payment for a job well done.

***

Meta 7, the revered founder of the Meta Board League, had long been a symbol of cosmic harmony, a sentinel against the darkness that lurked beyond the stars. His powers, once as brilliant and awe-inspiring as a comet streaking across the night sky, had begun to wane, much like the celestial body that had gifted him these cosmic abilities.

At the Moontower, Meta 7 typically oversaw the Meta Board's multifaceted operations. But on the pivotal day after the fateful board meeting, the tranquility of the headquarters was shattered by an alarm that reverberated through the metallic corridors, its urgency matching the magnitude of the crisis unfolding in the cosmos.

Deep-space sensors, finely tuned to detect the slightest cosmic disturbances, had picked up a colossal celestial anomaly at the galaxy's edge. It was a phenomenon so unfathomably potent that it imperiled the very balance of the universe. This anomaly was one that Meta 7 had encountered before early in his career, and its existence threatened to unleash chaos upon the cosmic tapestry, endangering not only Earth but the entire galaxy if it wasn't controlled properly. He had already made contact with the Matter-Beam Corps, whose agents had managed to keep the anomaly under control for now, but they would need his expertise in order to fully reverse the course it was on.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Meta 7 swiftly gathered his resolve. With a heavy heart and unwavering determination, he selected three trusted Meta Board members to assume command in his absence. The fate of the Earth rested upon their shoulders.

"Scout, Urus, Mycroft... I can't predict how long I'll be gone," Meta 7 admitted, his voice resonating with a sense of responsibility. "But I have faith that you three can handle the process of selecting the founding seven members from the pool of nominated candidates. The safety of our world depends on your discernment."

As the three chosen Board members nodded in solemn agreement, Meta 7 turned to his close friend and confidant, Damocles. The hero, who had willingly stepped down from the Meta Board in order to participate in the trials for MBL membership himself, bore an expression of loyalty and unwavering support.

"Dam," Meta 7 said, his gaze filled with a profound understanding between them. "If anything should go wrong -- if the shadows of the cosmos should encroach upon our world -- please, don't hesitate to contact me through the deep space communicator. Together, we'll face whatever challenges lie ahead."

"Are you sure you don't want me or anyone else to come along?" asked Damocles, his fellow veteran metahero.

"No, the MBC has power in spades already," said Meta 7. "What they need is my experience with the anomaly. It's best you all remain behind and keep a close watch on that Big Blue Marble down there." He gestured toward the Earth, visible through the huge Moontower dome.

"Understood," Damocles replied with a nod of his head. "Best of luck, Tek. And give 'em hell for me."

With a final glance back at the Moontower, Meta 7 took a scouting ship and ventured out into the unfathomable depths of deep space. Despite happening at the worst time possible, his presence was needed on the galactic stage, as only he possessed the experience and cosmic insight to confront the impending threat head-on.

***

In the heart of the vast Moontower, a sprawling complex equipped with an array of cutting-edge scientific equipment, the stage was soon set for a defining moment in the formation of the Meta Board League. With Meta 7 having been urgently called away, the oversight of the trials to select the charter members of the MBL had been left in the capable hands of a few trusted Meta Board members: the Scout Marksman, Sky Bull, and Mycroft.

The grand chamber of the Moontower, known as the Danger Room, was a technological marvel. It was here that the first trials would take place, a rigorous test of each nominated hero's metahuman abilities. The heroes who would potentially become charter members of the MBL awaited their fate with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Of the thirteen nominated heroes, only nine had answered the call to prove their worthiness:

• Agent F7
• Cardinal Synn
• The Cavalier Genius
• Damocles
• Dragnet Zero
• Grow Worm
• Sigma
• Obsidienne
• The Write Guy

The remaining four nominees had chosen different paths:

• Nightwatch had respectfully declined, revealing his intent to form the Meta League of Europe in earnest, with a pool of several interested candidates to choose from.
• Chewy Walrus had declined as well, citing his commitment to the Elitum Protection Squadron that needed his attention back on Earth, especially now that Grow Worm had decided to take a leave of absence from the EPS.
• Shaggy Faust had been a complete no-show, apparently disinterested in the idea of working with a team at all.
• Superfast Man, the seasoned metahero who had been considered by all to be the strongest contender for team leader, had seemed to have vanished completely.

In the cavernous depths of the Danger Room, the heroes were being put through their paces. The Scout Marksman, a veteran metahero known for his precision and unparalleled marksmanship with any projectile weapon, oversaw the trials with a keen eye. "Listen up, everyone," he declared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You've been nominated because you possess unique abilities, but we need to see how you handle yourself in the face of danger."

Sky Bull, known to his friends as Urus, was a powerhouse with the ability to control and manipulate energy. He nodded in agreement. "Each of you will face a series of challenges designed to test your mettle, teamwork, and adaptability. Expect the unexpected."

Mycroft, the strategic genius, added with his crisp British accent, "We will assess not only your powers but also your decision-making under pressure. The trials will be intense, but remember, this is about selecting the very best of the best."

The heroes exchanged determined glances, a mix of camaraderie and competition in the air. Their trials began with robotic adversaries, each one designed to exploit their individual strengths and weaknesses. The Write Guy's Cosmic Keyboard became a mighty weapon to alter things around him, Obsidienne controlled the very shadows, and Agent F7 demonstrated uncanny espionage skills.

The Cavalier Genius harnessed his brilliant intellect and swashbuckling swordplay to outwit and defeat mechanical foes, Sigma manipulated one of the eighteen powers he could choose from at any one time, and Damocles wielded a blade of energy with precision. Cardinal Synn's brutal firepower and mastery of his mystical aides was on full display, Grow Worm's ability to stretch shaped the battleground, and Dragnet Zero wielded his incredible fighting skills and athleticism to his advantage.

The trials were intense and demanding, pushing the heroes to their limits. As they fought side by side, alliances began to form, strategies evolved, and bonds of trust solidified.

Days turned into nights within the Moontower, and the trials raged on. The Board members, impressed by the caliber of the heroes before them, faced a daunting task: how to eliminate two of these exceptional nominees. Each hero had proven his or her worth in the crucible of combat, and the decision weighed heavily on the Meta Board members as they approached the defining moment of their selection process.

***

Down on Earth, a situation was rapidly developing that would threaten the very formation of the Meta Board League itself.

The bustling heart of Manhattan had been thrown into disarray as chaos reigned supreme, thanks to the familiar-looking costumed figure who had suddenly appeared in the midst of the crowds, drawing all attention to himself. "I have come to Manhattan to prove my dominance over this city!" he declared, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Prepare to witness the destruction and chaos that only I can unleash!"

With a wave of his hand, the buildings around him began to shake violently, their foundations crumbling under the immense power of his abilities. Glass shattered, raining down on the streets below, as terrified screams filled the air. Cars were flung into the air like toys, crashing into each other and causing explosions that sent flames dancing into the sky. Pedestrians ran for cover, their panicked footsteps echoing through the chaos.

This strange figure's powers were not limited to destruction alone. Even before his first words were spoken he had already begun manipulating the minds of those around him, twisting their perceptions and turning them against each other. Friends became enemies, while families were torn apart by paranoia and fear.

As chaos consumed the streets of Manhattan, the costumed figure reveled in his newfound power that had generated such immense fear and desperation that now gripped the city. He knew his actions had successfully drawn the attention of the media, and it would incite a swift reaction from the metahero community as well. News helicopters circled overhead, capturing footage of the destruction and broadcasting it live to a horrified audience. Reporters struggled to make sense of the madness unfolding before their eyes, their voices filled with urgency as they tried to convey the scale of the disaster.

Emergency services worked tirelessly to rescue those trapped amidst the rubble and chaos. Sirens blared through the streets, competing with the sounds of crumbling buildings and terrified cries. All the while, as the costumed man reveled in his destructive power.

As the city's denizens scattered in fear, the architect of that chaos decided to make his identity known. The Albino Chameleon, once a member of the beloved Seven Senses metahero team, had descended into madness, causing the breakup of that team. Now he sought to claim his own place of infamy in the world of capes and cowls. Stepping forward in the middle of the chaos that he had caused, he prepared to make his dramatic announcement.

Cameras from various news networks had been drawn to the chaotic spectacle unfolding in the heart of the city. The Albino Chameleon, his appearance shifting constantly as he lived up to his name, stepped up to one of the cameras, capturing the attention of a watching world.

"This is a message to the would-be 'heroes' of the Meta Board League. Beware!" he hissed, his voice dripping with malice. "Your self-righteous egos are nothing compared to mine! This popularity contest of yours in the form of a nomination process is an obvious attempt to challenge my power and authority, and I will not have it!"

A palpable tension hung in the air as he continued his ominous declaration. "Therefore, I am hereby announcing that I shall create the Infamous Bedlam Gang, with me as the leader, to challenge your paltry efforts at creating a new metahero team. Membership applications are accepted, but only at my discretion. Membership will be considered to those who can prove their worth, if you know what I mean. So, if you really want to join, you will need to make a name for yourself -- challenge the heroes in battle, cause destruction, and most of all, instill chaos everywhere you go!"

The Albino Chameleon's words sent shockwaves through the world and the hero community itself, just as he had intended. One young metahero, in particular, couldn't stay idle in the face of this madness and would soon face him down.

***

At the Moontower, emergency monitors flickered to life, casting an eerie glow across the control room. The metaheroes, gathered from various corners of the world, fixated their attention on the massive screens displaying Albino Chameleon's chaotic announcement in Manhattan.

As the Scout Marksman, Sky Bull, and Mycroft observed the unfolding crisis, their eyes narrowed with concern. They had been overseeing the training session of the MBL candidates, preparing the ostensible team members for the challenges they would face, and such a challenge had already presented itself.

Amidst the commotion, the trio of mentors seized the opportunity presented by Albino Chameleon's declaration to put two of the candidates to the test. The emergency sirens blared throughout the Moontower, signaling an abrupt halt to the training session.

"In the face of chaos, heroes rise," Scout Marksman declared, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "Two of you will have a chance to prove your mettle today. Albino Chameleon is threatening Manhattan, and we need to take swift action, not only to protect the city, but also the reputation of metaheroes in general. When one of us goes bad, we don't let it slide."

The candidates exchanged determined glances, their aspirations of joining the Meta Board League pushed to the forefront of their minds. But one of them had already stepped forward, answering the call to action before the Scout Marksman could even finish speaking.

Grow Worm, with his unique stretching abilities, spoke with determination, "I'll take on Albino Chameleon. I won't let his madness consume the city."

Beside him, Damocles, with his shapeshifting skills and an arsenal of weaponry, offered his assistance. "I'll accompany you, Worm. Together, we'll put an end to this chaos."

The trio of mentors nodded in approval as they initiated the teleportation sequence. In an instant, Grow Worm and Damocles vanished from the Moontower.

***

On the surface, the two heroes reappeared in the midst of the turmoil that had gripped Manhattan. The chaos was palpable, with civilians fleeing in terror from the destructive forces that had been unleashed by the Chameleon. But before the two heroes could leap into action, Damocles' comm-device chimed urgently.

"Damn it all! Why now?" Damocles muttered under his breath as he checked the alert. His expression darkened, and he turned to Grow Worm. "I'm sorry, Worm, but I've just received another emergency alert. It's an underground crisis with the Subterraneans. They're on the verge of awakening an ancient evil, and I... I really can't explain any further. I have to go."

Grow Worm nodded, his face resolute. "I understand, Damocles. I'm not afraid to face my... to face him alone. Go and handle your emergency."

With a nod of gratitude, Damocles activated his teleportation device and vanished, leaving the Worm alone in the midst of the chaos.

Steeling himself with a mixture of determination and sadness, the Worm drew upon the hero within as he spotted in the distance Albino Chameleon, the hero-turned-villain with whom he had a personal connection. With a deep breath, he stepped forward, ready to confront the darkness that had consumed his own flesh and blood.

The battle against Albino Chameleon was about to begin, and the fate of Manhattan hung in the balance.

[dans]

Oct 30, 2023 1:44:34 GMT DocQuantum said:

Yes, he is one of the players in this cast of characters for this story only.

Thank you! I'll wait until this one is done before starting origins or any stories about these characters.

Here's a thought... when you are done posting your initial stories here, maybe we could have a challenge or round robin or brainstorming sessions for new stories written in this continuity? With very few continuity constraints, the chance to create original characters and let them loose into the wild might be an incentive to write?

[DocQuantum]

That would be cool. Some of the most interesting characters who appear in this story, such as Superfast Man or SuperStretch, will never appear again unless someone chooses to bring them back in story form. Metaman is a character who I created as a stand-in for the original Superman, and while I have some ideas about what ultimately happened to him, his story is mostly a blank slate.

BTW, Obsidienne is based on one of our original writers, Lady Obie. That character also never appears again but could be brought back for future stories.

[DocQuantum]

CHAPTER 4: RISE OF THE INFAMOUS BEDLAM GANG

In the days since the Meta Board meeting at the Moontower complex, a troubling undercurrent had begun to take shape in the world of metaheroes, one that would test alliances and spark concerns.

Hidden away in a concealed lair, the Albino Chameleon, once a renowned member of the Seven Senses, had been slowly descending into madness since even before his dramatic departure that had led to the team's recent breakup. The announcement of the Meta Board League had triggered a deep-seated insecurity within him. He refused to be overshadowed or defeated so easily.

The Chameleon's mysterious exit from the Seven Senses had left a void, one that had rapidly filled with his deteriorating sanity and an insatiable thirst for power. Consumed by delusions and driven to the precipice of insanity, he embarked on a path shrouded in darkness and treachery.

Now he had caused a scene of chaos in order to draw attention to himself, and the media had come, exactly as he had anticipated. The Seven Senses had been the most renowned metahero team globally, and now one of their own had declared the formation of the Infamous Bedlam Gang, a name that sent chills down the spines of heroes worldwide.

In a world where alliances usually formed to combat evil, not to perpetuate it, the Infamous Bedlam Gang was a troubling enigma. With the announcement of his formation of a team of metavillains to directly challenge the heroes of the MBL, he awaited his first challenge and was not disappointed. His challenger was none other than Grow Worm.

The young hero who could stretch and alter his body had arrived on the scene. Carrying a unique perspective on the situation, he couldn't contain his deep concern, for the Worm was more than just any hero; he was the brother of the Chameleon, and the darkness that had consumed his sibling filled him with anguish.

Grow Worm's heart ached as he confronted his brother, his voice laced with deep concern. "Albino Chameleon, my estranged brother, how could you commit such acts of wanton destruction?!" His words were laced with emotion. "I promised you I'd try to secure your spot in the League, but my mentor, Chewy Walrus, insisted it wasn't the right time. Now you've embraced darkness, and I fear what this will do to our mother."

The Albino Chameleon's shifting visage twisted into a wicked grin.

"There's still hope, Chameleon," continued Grow Worm. "Abandon this reckless path and become an MBL Reservist before it's too late to turn back!" His words carried a profound weight, a plea for redemption.

But the Albino Chameleon was resolute in his newfound malevolence. With a flick of his hand, he shifted his malleable form into a monstrous, serpentine creature, his form undulating and shifting as he embraced his chaotic powers.

"Do you not see, brother?" he began. "Do you not see the sheer power that I wield at my fingertips?"

"I see it, but I don't understand it," replied the Worm, stretching his limbs and transforming them into formidable giant fists, ready to face his brother. "Even when you were with the Seven Senses you were never this powerful."

The Albino Chameleon, reveling in his newfound notoriety, decided to unveil a dark secret that would send shockwaves through the world and the metahuman community -- a sinister artifact, only rumored to exist until now. He brought it forward from where he had kept it hidden within the folds of his clothing until now.

"Do you see what this is -- what power I now wield?" he cried. "I wield the Cosmic Gyroscope, a device capable of manipulating space and time itself!"

His taunting voice echoed through the landscape. The revelation of the Cosmic Gyroscope struck fear into the hearts of all those who realized how powerful it was. The mere mention of such a device, with its potential to disrupt the very fabric of reality, was enough to send shivers down even the bravest spines.

In one of their final cases before the team began to break apart, the Seven Senses had been entrusted with the safekeeping of the Cosmic Gyroscope by none other than the powerful being known as the Cosmic Mediator; the wise observer of life who only intervened when absolutely necessary had sought to keep it from being misused by his equally powerful rival. Unlike the Cosmic Mediator, the Arch-Moderator had no compunctions about using his vast power to change events if he deemed it worthwhile to do so, and his usual method of intervention was to erase moments of time. His power was already vast, but it would be unstoppable if he ever obtained the Cosmic Gyroscope.

After the dissolution of the Seven Senses, this object of power had seemingly been forgotten by all but the Albino Chameleon. In fact, he had secured it for himself months ago and had replaced it with a duplicate in the underground vault below the Seven Senses Headquarters, anticipating his need for its ability to amplify his own power someday.

"Ah, but I must admit -- mastering it is proving quite the challenge," he added. "In any case, you heroes -- all of you -- will bow before my malevolent power! HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!"

The Worm's heart sank as he realized how outmatched he had become since the last time he had sparred with his brother. This wouldn't be a contest of equals as it had been in the old days, and he feared his brother in his maddened condition might ensure that his victory would be a final one.

As if guessing his thoughts, the Chameleon said, "Indeed, this won't do, my brother. I cannot have my own image tarnished by engaging in such a one-sided battle against such a pathetically low-powered foe as you. In order for things to be fair, after all, I'll have to use the Cosmic Gyroscope to increase your own abilities to match my own! But do not be frightened by such a change, brother, for you'll be the very image of perfection once I'm done with you!"

And as the cosmic energies of the object flowed over him, the Grow Worm fell to his knees and screamed in pain, feeling as if his every cell was being disrupted and altered into something other. Long moments passed as the Albino Chameleon laughed at his brother's pain and merely waited until he could recover. When the Grow Worm finally rose to his feet, his face was filled with rage. The Chameleon smiled in anticipation as his brother rose to the fight.

The battle that followed was a spectacle of shape-shifting and reality manipulation, the brothers locked in a fierce struggle that echoed their tumultuous relationship. The Chameleon's shapeshifting prowess was matched only by his limited ability to manipulate reality, allowing him to bend the very fabric of the world to his advantage. The Worm's enhanced stretching abilities proved to be a formidable match, and the two siblings clashed with an intensity born of both familial bonds and diametrically opposed paths.

In the end, the Albino Chameleon's sinister determination prevailed. With a final, devastating blow, he knocked out his brother, Grow Worm, who was left unconscious on the chaotic streets of Manhattan.

As the Albino Chameleon made his fateful escape, his laughter echoed through the city, a chilling promise of what the Infamous Bedlam Gang would bring to the world. The hero community had been shaken to its core, and the legacy of the brothers would be forever marred by the darkness that had taken hold of one of their own.

***

Rae, a red-haired beauty veiled in mystery and hidden motives who was rumored to have descended from Irish deities, found herself standing at the edge of a life-altering decision. The idea of joining the Infamous Bedlam Gang had reached her ears, and she couldn't help but be tempted by the allure of chaos and power.

"Since no one thought to extend an invitation to the MBL," Rae mused to herself, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief, "I believe I will instead join Albino Chameleon and bring my unique brand of villainy to the Infamous Bedlam Gang. After all, every gang needs one with my kind of allure."

As she contemplated her options, she realized that she needed to make a grand and memorable entrance to get the attention of the Gang's leader. With a sly grin, she appeared over the bustling streets of Thunder City, her godlike powers coursing through her veins. The city was her canvas, and she was about to paint it with chaos.

As she raised her arms, a surge of power flowed through her. Rae had the ability to manipulate the elements, and she decided to start with something subtle, yet attention-grabbing. Dark clouds gathered overhead, blotting out the sun and casting a shadow over the city. Thunder rumbled ominously, and lightning crackled in the distance.

The citizens on the streets of Thunder City looked up in alarm, their faces etched with fear and confusion. Panic began to spread as rain started pouring from the sky, drenching pedestrians and sending them scrambling for cover.

Rae's mischievous laughter echoed through the streets as she continued to flex her powers, conjuring gusts of wind that sent trash cans rolling, billboards swaying dangerously, and umbrellas turning inside out. The chaos was escalating, and the citizens of Thunder City quickly found themselves in a state of pandemonium.

Alarms blared, and emergency services struggled to respond to the sudden turmoil. It was the perfect distraction, and Rae knew it would draw the attention of Albino Chameleon and the whole world. She had effectively painted chaos upon the canvas of Thunder City, and her actions would not go unnoticed.

With a theatrical flourish, she conjured a makeshift platform of swirling winds and stood upon it, elevating herself above the pandemonium. Her voice rang out, amplified by her godlike abilities, cutting through the cacophony of panic and rain.

"People of Thunder City!" she proclaimed, her voice carrying an eerie, ethereal resonance. "I am Rae -- Harbinger of Chaos, Mistress of the Elements! The Infamous Bedlam Gang beckons me, but I will not join them unless Albino Chameleon himself extends the invitation! Otherwise, I'll have to go rogue, and who knows where that will end up!"

The camera lenses focused on her, capturing her image against the backdrop of the tempest she had summoned. The world was watching, and Thunder City was paralyzed by her presence. "I offer you a choice," she continued, her tone dripping with bewitchment. "Embrace chaos with me, or suffer beneath its relentless grip!" Rae's eyes sparkled with power as she knew her audacious display had garnered the attention of the world.

As the chaos unfolded, a short but courageous TV reporter for the Thunder City Broadcasting Corporation stood with his microphone in hand, facing the turbulent scene before him. "Hello, Thunder City! This is Buzz E. Randall, bringing you live coverage of a truly extraordinary event," he announced, a mixture of excitement and concern evident on his face. "We have just witnessed the arrival of Rae, a mysterious figure with supernatural abilities. She has made a stunning display of power in the city, apparently in an attempt to prove herself worthy of membership in the Infamous Bedlam Gang, with her own unique brand of villainy."

As the camera zoomed in on Rae, standing amid the chaos she had created, Buzz continued, "Whatever her reasons, the world is waiting with bated breath to see what comes next. And we at TCBC will be here to cover it all!"

As Rae unleashed her elemental powers, a tempest of wind and water tore through the city streets, uprooting trees and shattering windows. Thunderclouds loomed ominously overhead, crackling with lightning, and the once bustling streets were now all but deserted. That was about to change.

Two heroes emerged, teleported from the Moontower and drawn to the area by the cries for help. Cardinal Synn, a red-cloaked figure carrying a huge firearm, stepped forward and itching for battle, flanked by two nubile pixies waiting for his command to act. Beside him stood the Write Guy, an otherwise ordinary-looking figure with a keyboard at his side, whose power over reality itself was channeled through his keystrokes.

Cardinal Synn raised his semiautomatic weapon toward the skies and shouted in a deep voice resonating with authority, "We won't let you wreak havoc in Thunder City!" His pair of female pixies were like two aggressive guard dogs, eagerly poised to spring into action at their master's command.

The Write Guy typed furiously on his keyboard, words and symbols appearing in the air around him as he found a moment of creative inspiration. With a few strokes on the keyboard, he began his attempts to rewrite the very elements manipulated by Rae, starting to calm the storm she had summoned. "You're in over your head, Rae, and we're going to put an end to this madness!"

Rae, her eyes blazing with the power she wielded, regarded the two heroes with a mixture of curiosity and defiance. "You think you two clowns can stop me?" she sneered, her voice carrying the weight of a brewing hurricane. "Why, I've only just begun."

With a sweep of her hand, she sent a gust of wind spiraling toward Cardinal Synn, testing his endurance. The Pugnacious Padre remained stubbornly in place, even as his pixies were flung into the distance by the powerful air currents, but Rae's assault intensified. Lightning arced toward the Write Guy, forcing him to frantically type out protective measures to shield both himself and his precious Cosmic Keyboard.

Despite their combined efforts, Rae's elemental prowess proved overwhelming. She summoned a colossal waterspout that threatened to engulf them all. Cardinal Synn's massive firepower and pixies were hardly prepared to take on the forces of nature itself, and the waterspout raged on.

The Write Guy's keyboard flickered and sputtered as the relentless rain threatened to short-circuit his abilities. He fought to maintain control over the elements but could not prevail against the relentless power of Rae's chaos.

In a final, devastating burst of energy, Rae unleashed a thunderous blast that sent both heroes sprawling, their powers faltering. The Write Guy and Cardinal Synn, along with his two pixies, lay defeated and exhausted amidst the ruins of the city they had vowed to defend.

Triumphant laughter filled the air as Rae reveled in her debut as a formidable force to be reckoned with. Turning away from the fallen heroes, she disappeared into the tempestuous night, leaving behind a city in disarray and the indelible mark of her chaotic power.

Thunder City had seen its share of challenges, but with Rae's arrival, a new and unpredictable era of heroism and villainy had begun, and the heroes knew that they would have to regroup and prepare for the battles that lay ahead.

***

Los Angeles had always been a city of dreams and desires, where palm trees swayed in the breeze and the sun bathed the streets in golden warmth. But on this particular day, a sinister presence descended upon the City of Angels, shattering the illusion of tranquility.

Mystery Lord, a being whose ego knew no bounds and whose lust for power and chaos was insatiable, had arrived. He stood at the heart of downtown Los Angeles, a pale-skinned figure with raven-black long hair shrouded in a dark cloak, his presence commanding attention. Around him, buildings trembled as if gripped by an unseen force, and the very ground seemed to quiver in dread.

His "superego," a powerful energy being in the form of a swirling, malevolent vortex, crackled with destructive energy at his command. It danced and swirled around him, like a chaotic storm seeking release. Structures exploded and collapsed to the ground, and citizens ran screaming in terror, their daily routines shattered by the arrival of this malevolent force.

But beyond the destruction and the terror, there was something else at play. Mystery Lord's actions were not solely driven by a desire for chaos; they were a calculated move to gain the attention of Albino Chameleon. He sought to prove his worth and secure his place in the Infamous Bedlam Gang, thus joining the most formidable metavillains in existence.

Gaining the attention of TV cameras, Mystery Lord addressed the world with a voice that resonated with arrogance and menace. "I aspire to join the Injustice Board Gang!" he declared, his words carrying the weight of impending doom. "My superego has taken on a life of its own, a volatile entity under my control, prone to violence. With my wrath and my superego's destructive tendencies, we'd be a formidable addition. The Meta Board League won't stand a chance!"

The world watched in horror as Mystery Lord's superego unleashed its fury. Vehicles were lifted into the air, then hurled back to the ground with bone-shattering force. The sky above Los Angeles darkened as if the very heavens wept for the city's plight.

Within the chaos, panic reigned supreme. Emergency services struggled to respond, and the Los Angeles Police were stretched thin, trying to contain the devastation wrought by Mystery Lord and his malevolent superego. The city's residents, once going about their daily lives, now huddled in fear, their sense of security shattered.

A group of friends, huddled together for safety, exchanged worried glances. One of them, a young man named Carlos spoke up in a determined tone. "We can't just wait for someone else to save us," he said. "We need to band together, help each other, and find a way to stop him!" He looked around but saw only fear in his friends' eyes. The situation seemed hopeless.

And then, at that very moment, an African-American hero named Sigma soared through the air, his cape billowing behind him. The heroic figure in an all-white costume emblazoned with a sigma logo on his chest landed in front of Mystery Lord, his voice booming with authority. "You may think you're powerful, Mystery Lord, but I won't let you destroy this city!" declared Sigma, his fists clenched tightly as he channeled meta-strength, one of the most useful of his eighteen metahuman powers whose use was limited to one at any given time.

Mystery Lord laughed, his voice echoing through the chaos. "You're nothing compared to me, Sigma! My superego will consume you!"

But before Mystery Lord could make a move, another hero named Obsidienne appeared beside Sigma, her shadow-black and dark blue costume standing in stark contrast to Sigma's outfit. Having the power to manipulate the darkness, her voice was filled with determination. "We won't let you succeed," Obsidienne said firmly. "We'll protect Los Angeles at all costs."

As the heroes charged toward Mystery Lord, ready to confront him and put an end to his reign of terror, Carlos and the other bystanders watched with a mix of fear and hope, their eyes glued to the unfolding battle. Sigma and Obsidienne, the valiant defenders of the city on this day, began their battle against this relentless force of chaos.

Sigma manipulated his own body at a molecular level, building a swirling tempest of energy within that he would soon direct against his foe. Obsidienne, the friendly heroine with the power to manipulate darkness, unleashed a wave of solid shadows upon the villain.

But Mystery Lord was cunning and relentless. With a malevolent grin dancing across his lips, he seized the perfect moment, unleashing the full fury of his superego. The skies crackled with energy as Mystery Lord's malevolent superego, a dark formless entity of pure destructive force, surged forward with unrestrained power. It was a creature born of his darkest desires, a relentless juggernaut with one singular purpose -- to vanquish the heroes who dared to stand in its path. In a cataclysmic burst of energy, it surged forward like a tidal wave, crashing into both Sigma and Obsidienne simultaneously.

The impact was devastating. Sigma's form wavered and flickered as the energy disrupted the very bonds holding him together. Obsidienne's shadow armor shattered into fragments, her form destabilizing into shadow itself in the face of such overwhelming power. They were sent hurtling backward, their bodies wracked with pain, and consciousness slipping away like a fading dream.

As the two heroes lay defeated and incapacitated, Mystery Lord seized the opportunity. He reveled in the moment, his mad laughter echoing through the now eerily quiet battlefield. "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" It was a sound that sent shivers down the spines of anyone who heard it, a stark reminder of the chaos he had wrought.

With a triumphant grin, Mystery Lord made his escape, while the TV cameras broadcast every moment. His form seemed to blur and distort as he melded with the shadows, leaving behind a trail of malevolent energy that crackled ominously in his wake. The city could only watch helplessly as he faded from view.

Mystery Lord knew that he had made his name known, not just among the citizens but also within the villainous underworld. He had proven himself a force to be reckoned with, a chaotic entity capable of toppling even the mightiest of heroes. He was certain that his audacious display had earned him a coveted invitation to join the Infamous Bedlam Gang, a prospect that filled him with dark satisfaction.

***

In the shadowy underbelly of Chicago, where the neon lights clashed with the darkened alleyways, a new player emerged, like a twisted jester from the depths of madness. Hardy LeQuinn, his persona a whirlwind of lunacy and manic confidence, stepped into the spotlight. He knew that today was his day to shine, his chance to prove that he belonged among the metavillain elite, among those who reveled in chaos and anarchy.

Robbing the biggest bank in Chicago was his ticket to infamy, and he approached the task with the flair and theatrics that defined him. With a graceful leap, he soared through the air, twisting and twirling like a circus acrobat. Smoke bombs erupted around him, enveloping the Windy City's central business district, the Loop, in a shroud of obscurity.

Firecrackers exploded in bursts of vibrant color, and confetti rained down like a macabre parade, creating a surreal and disorienting scene. The bank's security cameras captured the spectacle, broadcasting it to an audience both captivated and horrified.

Inside the bank, confusion reigned. Security guards stumbled blindly through the smoke, unable to comprehend the madness unfolding before them. The tellers cowered behind their counters, and customers found themselves swept up in the absurdity of it all.

In the heart of the chaos, bystanders were caught in the crossfire of madness and mayhem. As smoke swirled around and fireworks erupted, a terrified bank customer clung to her purse, her eyes wide with fear. "Is this some kind of nightmare?" muttered the bewildered middle-aged woman as confetti rained down around her.

Nearby, a security guard, disoriented by the smoke, shouted into his radio, "We need backup! It's... it's like a circus in here! I can't see a damn thing!"

But Hardy LeQuinn was just getting started. With a flourish, he produced a canister of laughing gas, a concoction of his own twisted invention. He released it into the air, and the toxic mirth spread like wildfire. Police officers who had rushed to the scene found themselves helpless, their stern expressions giving way to uncontrollable laughter as they doubled over, clutching their sides.

A police officer stumbled out of the bank's entrance, his laughter echoing through the air. He clutched his belly, unable to contain himself. "It's... it's too funny," he gasped between fits of laughter. Passersby couldn't help but laugh along, drawn into the bizarre contagion.

The bank's vault, the ultimate prize of this chaotic performance, beckoned to Hardy LeQuinn. He used his skills to crack the code, revealing the vast fortune within. Soon he was filling bags with cash, jewels, and secrets that would be his bargaining chips in the villainous underworld.

At the end of his tumultuous symphony of chaos, Hardy LeQuinn took a flamboyant bow for the TV news cameras that had arrived to capture the madness. His face, painted in an unsettling mask of clownish glee, contorted into a sinister smile.

He spoke directly to the leader of the Infamous Bedlam Gang, his voice a mixture of lunacy and audacity. "This, dear Albino Chameleon, is my formal application for membership in the IBG," he declared, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

The chaotic aftermath of Hardy LeQuinn's audacious bank robbery was punctuated by swirling smoke and the lingering scent of burnt gunpowder. Bystanders and law enforcement alike were left stunned by the mayhem that had unfolded. But as the crimson curtains of smoke began to dissipate, the stage was set for the arrival of two unexpected heroes.

Dragnet Zero, a vigilante in a sleek, dark costume, emerged from the shadows like a phantom. His cold, calculating eyes scanned the scene, taking in the disarray and chaos. He was a master of martial arts, possessing incredible fighting skills and athleticism. A trash-talking enigma, Dragnet Zero relished every opportunity to outwit and outmaneuver his enemies.

At his side was the Cavalier Genius, a swashbuckling Latino hero with an infectious buoyancy that seemed immune to the madness around him. His black and gold attire was adorned with a flourish, complete with a wide-brimmed, feathered hat and a rapier at his side. Beyond his expertise in fencing, he was known for his vast knowledge in various subjects, making him a versatile and resourceful ally.

As Hardy LeQuinn contemplated his escape amidst the disarray, the two heroes closed in on him, their eyes locked on their chaotic quarry.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a real party crasher, Cavalier," Dragnet Zero quipped with a sardonic smile, his voice dripping with disdain.

The Cavalier Genius responded with a hearty laugh. "Indeed, my friend. But remember, every party needs a little excitement!"

Hardy LeQuinn, his face still adorned with an unsettling mask of clownish glee, turned to face his new adversaries. "Ah, the meta-zeroes have arrived to rain on my parade! Ha-ha-ha! But I must tell you, boys, this party is just getting started!"

With a graceful, acrobatic leap, Hardy LeQuinn darted toward a group of innocent bystanders who were still bowled over in laughter because of the gas. In their midst he suddenly brandished a menacing-looking contraption resembling a jack-in-the-box, complete with a sinister grin painted on its surface.

Dragnet Zero and Cavalier Genius had begun to move forward to intercept him, their determination unwavering, until they spotted the box. The heroes both immediately stopped in their tracks, guessing that whatever was in that malevolent-looking jack-in-the-box was nothing good.

But Hardy LeQuinn had a cruel trick up his sleeve. With a maniacal grin, he grabbed one of the innocent bystanders, a cackling young blonde woman wearing a red tanktop. "One step closer, and I'll unleash the surprise in my jack-in-the-box upon this buxom young lady and all these poor souls!" LeQuinn cried, his eyes glinting with madness.

The Cavalier Genius, ever the swashbuckler, flung one arm forward with a flick of his rapier, ready to disarm Hardy LeQuinn. "You won't get away with this, scoundrel!"

Dragnet Zero, with his impeccable timing, leaped into action, using his incredible athleticism to close the gap between them. "Your little circus act won't save you, Chuckles," he taunted. "Let the girl go!"

In a daring move, Hardy LeQuinn cackled gleefully as he flung the jack-in-the-box up into the air, activating it. Instead of immediately falling, the jack-in-the-box hovered in midair thanks to the tiny helicopter rotors keeping it in place as it began to play the familiar tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel."

Reluctantly, the two metaheroes were forced to back away, while Hardy LeQuinn cackled with delight as he danced off into the chaos, his laughter echoing in the distance. With swift action, Dragnet and Cavalier began to evacuate the area, guiding the disoriented civilians to safety as quickly as possible, fearing the imminent activation of the airborne device. Uncertain of what awaited them, they could only assume that the jack-in-the-box could detonate at any second.

"Move, move, move!" ordered Dragnet Zero as he frantically herded the crowd on one side of the room, while the Cavalier Genius moved all the people on the other side.

Then, as the madcap tune began to wind down, the hovering jack-in-the-box exploded with a deafening POP! that released a cascade of thin glass capsules that shattered upon the floor, releasing even more laughing gas in their midst. Canned laughter could be heard through a concealed speaker in the box, and with the bizarre sight and the laughing gas in the air, the innocent bystanders couldn't help but join in the laughter themselves, the terror of the previous few moments released in the cacophany.

The Cavalier Genius and Dragnet Zero shared a momentary glance. With heavy hearts, they realized that their foe had used their duty as metaheroes against them. Hardy LeQuinn knew that the heroes couldn't allow harm to befall the innocent, even if it meant letting him slip through their grasp. The heroes searched in vain, but the Madcap Miscreant was long gone. Still, their pursuit of justice would continue, and they hoped to face Hardy LeQuinn again someday.

***

Amidst the twisted labyrinth of their clandestine lair, a towering sanctuary carved from chaos itself, the enigmatic and deranged conductor of the Infamous Bedlam Gang stood poised to introduce his trio of freshly indoctrinated recruits: Rae, the embodiment of cunning allure, Mystery Lord, shrouded in a cloak of enigmatic power, and Hardy LeQuinn, the wildcard of wicked jests.

Albino Chameleon's chosen hideout bore the unmistakable mark of chaos, its every corner a testament to the twisted creativity that thrived within. Walls seemed to pulsate with colors no sane artist would dare to blend, and furniture manifested in forms that defied reason, yet beckoned with sinister allure. Strange contraptions hummed with malevolence, casting eerie shadows upon the walls adorned with murals of nightmarish landscapes.

As the Chameleon began his ominous welcome, the hideout's ambience resonated with the echoes of their shared madness, setting the stage for an alliance forged in the crucible of darkness.

"Ah, Rae," Albino crooned with theatrical charm, "our team was missing a dose of your cunning, your allure, your impeccable taste. Welcome to the dark side, darling. And as for you two--" He gestured dramatically to Mystery Lord and Hardy LeQuinn. "--you're the wild cards in our deck, ready to trump Superfast 'Know-Nothing' Man, if he ever dares show his face again. Those Meta Board League buffoons won't know what hit 'em -- assuming we can keep our own chaos in check, that is."

Hardy LeQuinn, ever the impulsive one, couldn't help but speak up, a mischievous grin dancing on his lips. "Hey, boss, have you ever considered you could use that Cosmic Gyroscope of yours to summon that cosmic being who made it over to our side? I mean, what if we could get the likes of the Cosmic Mediator himself to join the IBG? With his kind of power, imagine the sheer chaos we could wreak together across the universe!"

Albino Chameleon corrected him with a sly smile, "Not the Cosmic Mediator, my dear Hardy, but the Arch-Moderator. He's the key to unraveling the universe -- not to mention the multiverse itself."

The Infamous Bedlam Gang shared a knowing glance, beginning to realize the cosmic ambitions that simmered beneath the Chameleon's eccentric exterior.

As the threads of this sinister alliance wove tighter, it became evident that the Gang was primed for a showdown of epic proportions against the Meta Board League. Their powers, personalities, and malevolent aspirations converged in a macabre waltz, threatening to blur the lines between hero and villain. The stage was set for a clash that would not only test their metahuman might but also the very essence of heroism itself.

[DocQuantum]

CHAPTER 5: SEEDS OF CHAOS

As the days passed, the Infamous Bedlam Gang, ominously known as the IBG, escalated their campaign against the Meta Board League. Taunting threats and menacing messages were scattered across various message boards, creating a sense of unease and impending danger. The MBL, still in the process of forming through a series of grueling trials, found itself under siege, both in the virtual and real worlds. Skirmishes between the metaheroes of the MBL and the IBG erupted sporadically, leaving a wake of chaos and uncertainty. Each clash deepened the mystery surrounding their new adversaries. The heroes struggled to comprehend the motives behind the IBG's actions, which seemed driven more by madness and spite than any clear agenda.

Now, in the heart of Thunder City's seedy underbelly, far removed from the prying eyes of both hero and villain, had come SuperStretch, known for his elastic wit and the colorful past that had propelled him into the ranks of metaheroes. Contemplating the allure of the IBG and the promise of untold riches that it held, he found himself ensnared in the intricate web of intrigue woven by the Infamous Bedlam Gang. As the gang's relentless campaign against the Meta Board League had escalated, cities had become momentary battlegrounds, leaving the metahuman community on edge.

SuperStretch had always carried a shadow from his past, a criminal history he'd left behind after a life-changing accident bestowed upon him his stretching powers. But with the IBG's influence looming larger by the day, old instincts resurfaced, and he began to grapple with a burning question: Was it time to look out for number one again? Amidst the chaos that enveloped the metaheroes' ranks as they scrambled to unveil the elusive IBG's whereabouts, SuperStretch decided to take matters into his own malleable hands and arranged a meeting. The problem was that he couldn't decide whether he truly wanted to become a crook again or if his intentions leaned more toward infiltrating the gang on behalf of the Meta Board.

In an eerie, abandoned subway station hidden beneath the bustling streets of Thunder City, SuperStretch had arrived incognito. The vibrant yellow and blue hues of his signature costume were concealed beneath a trenchcoat and a pair of stylish sunglasses, adding a touch of mystery to his presence in the dimly lit underground expanse.

As he navigated the cracked tile floor, his rubbery body providing a distinct yet almost graceful advantage, he was caught off guard. A stumble in the darkness sent him sprawling, limbs contorted as he exclaimed, "Whoa!" His form spilled out awkwardly, like an accordion unfolding, before he regained his composure. Scrunching up his nose, he remarked, "Phew! What is that smell?"

From the shadows emerged an unexpected figure. SuperStretch, rising to his feet, was now confronted by a grubby, unshaven homeless man, clad in tattered and disheveled clothing.

"Hey, ya got any change, mister?" the homeless man inquired with an outstretched, dirt-caked hand. SuperStretch realized it had been the old beggar that he'd tripped over just now.

"Oh!" SuperStretch exclaimed awkwardly, his body flexing as he scrambled to retrieve some crumpled dollar bills from the depths of his trenchcoat pockets. "Uh... here y'go, buddy." He placed the money into the homeless man's grime-stained hands and added, "Take care, huh? Don't go spending all of that in one place!"

The homeless man's eyes lit up with gratitude as he pocketed the dollar bills. "Thanks, mister!" he said with enthusiasm. "May God bless your soul."

SuperStretch offered a nod and a warm smile before resuming his journey toward the predetermined rendezvous point. Passing through a partially lit corridor, he eventually arrived at the abandoned subway station adjacent to the tracks. But doubts had already crept into his mind, and he muttered to himself, "I must be crazy, coming here like this!"

Searching for a specific floor tile marked by graffiti, he finally located it. The stylized green chameleon symbol, clearly sprayed on with a stencil, adorned the tile's surface. Glancing at it, SuperStretch remarked, "Hmmm... according to the message, I'm supposed to just stand here on this tile and wait." He shook his head, a mix of determination and apprehension in his eyes. "Man, I must be off my rocker to do this," he sighed, "but I guess Mama Stretch's number one son will just stand here and wait. After all, I've already come this far, might as well go all in."

Unbeknownst to him, the homeless man, who had been watching from around the corner, narrowed his eyes as he overheard his words, intrigued by the peculiar metahero and his clandestine meeting.

SuperStretch was on the precipice of an encounter that would test his mettle in unexpected ways. But with every passing minute, the metahero's patience waned, and his usual humor began to seep through his nervous façade. "What's the hold-up? Did my invitation get lost in the mail or something?" he quipped to the empty air.

And then, in an instant, he was whisked away, his rubbery form stretching through an inexplicable rift in reality. Suddenly, he found himself standing within the hallowed halls of the Infamous Bedlam Gang's hideout, where the enigmatic Albino Chameleon, Rae, Mystery Lord, and Hardy LeQuinn awaited him in the darkness beyond the halo of light he now found himself in. He frowned slightly, as something about the IBG's hideout seemed familiar, as if he'd been there before.

SuperStretch couldn't help himself; humor was his defense mechanism against the mounting tension, and he felt like a bad stand-up comic at a joint that served no alcohol. "So... uh, is there a formal invitation to join your team, or do I have to prove my worth through some universe-altering event?" he quipped, his words laced with genuine curiosity in the guise of playful jest.

His nervous chatter continued unabated as he quirked an eyebrow beneath his sunglasses. "Y'know, I always figure they called me 'Stretch' because of my powers, but it turns out it was all about my sense of humor. You know, how I tend to stretch a joke a bit too far?" His own laughter rang through the underground lair.

Albino Chameleon, unfazed by SuperStretch's antics, responded with an air of calculated amusement. "SuperStretch, prove to me that you have what it takes to be a member of the Infamous Bedlam Gang, and you're in. You'd be the comic relief -- a tradition that pays handsomely."

With that cryptic statement, SuperStretch found himself instantly teleported back to the very spot he'd been taken from, leaving him to ponder the enigmatic offer that had just been extended to him in the heart of chaos.

***

Within the imposing confines of the Moontower, the towering headquarters of the Meta Board League, the air hummed with tension and anticipation. The eight remaining nominees for MBL membership, a diverse group of metahumans with powers as varied as their backgrounds, had endured days of grueling training and relentless trials within the Danger Room. The world outside was rife with peril as the Infamous Bedlam Gang targeted metaheroes far and wide, and these candidates knew that time was of the essence.

Grow Worm, the Write Guy, Obsidienne, the Cavalier Genius, Sigma, Cardinal Synn, and Dragnet Zero had been pushed to their limits, each challenge designed to test their mettle and determine their worthiness. As the days wore on, exhaustion set in, and their patience grew thin. They had proven their mettle, and now they sought closure, demanding that their trials come to an end. Their plea echoed through the Moontower's hallowed halls, a chorus of determination that reverberated with urgency.

Standing before the trio of mentors who had been their guides and taskmasters throughout this grueling process, the tension in the room palpable, the nominees made their case.

Grow Worm, his voice tinged with exhaustion, spoke first. "Look, we've given our all," began the Worm. "The trials have been relentless, and we've proven ourselves time and again. It's not just about us; it's about the metaheroes out there who need us to stop this harassment."

Sigma, his white-domino-masked eyes reflecting the weariness of his comrades, chimed in, "We can't afford to wait any longer. The Infamous Bedlam Gang is gaining ground, and every moment we spend here is a moment they exploit."

The Scout Marksman, known for his unerring aim and wisdom, hesitated before he replied. "I understand your point, and I'm inclined to agree," he said, a troubled expression on his face. "The world outside is in turmoil, and the MBL should be out there defending it."

"Besides," added Dragnet Zero, "with both Damocles and Agent F7 out on other assignments, there's really only seven of us left! Why not just declare us the Meta Board League and be done with it? We should be out there kicking IBG ass every chance we get!"

Sky Bull, the towering paragon of strength, nodded in reluctant agreement. "Their argument makes sense. We've seen what they can do. They've earned their place."

However, Mycroft, the enigmatic strategist, remained unmoved. "Patience is a virtue, my friends. Rushing this decision could have dire consequences. We must be absolutely certain of our choices. The trials will continue."

The nominees exchanged frustrated glances, their convictions clashing with Mycroft's unwavering resolve.

In the aftermath of this confrontation, Mycroft retreated to a hidden chamber, one nestled deep within the labyrinthine recesses of the Moontower. The room was a sanctuary of solitude and secrecy, where the detective could communicate privately without fear of prying eyes -- or ears.

With measured precision, Mycroft activated a special communicator and initiated a clandestine conversation. "It's done," he murmured, his voice laced with an inscrutable mix of satisfaction and intrigue. "The trials will continue... indefinitely."

From the other end of the line, an eerie and malevolent laugh reverberated, chilling the air. Mycroft's response was a cryptic smile that betrayed nothing of his thoughts or intentions. With a final nod, he terminated the connection, leaving the pieces of an enigmatic puzzle scattered throughout the Moontower, its inhabitants unaware of the intricate web of intrigue that had been woven.

***

Days ago, in the wake of the audacious sneak attack by Cap Fury, Superfast Man had found himself cast into the chaotic embrace of the alternate dimension known as Limbo, a realm he had visited more than once in his long and stored career as a metahero. It was an eerie and disorienting place, a realm that defied time and reason, where days felt like eternities. Yet, driven by a relentless determination, he persevered, navigating the shifting tides of this alien dimension until he finally emerged back into his reality. Frustration and urgency marked his return, for he had missed the crucial trials that would shape the membership of the Meta Board League, an opportunity to chart the destiny of the metahuman world.

His reappearance had also coincided with the insidious rise of the Infamous Bedlam Gang, their nefarious presence darkening the world and infesting the digital realm. Mocking posts online and taunting messages left behind at the scenes of their crimes had cast a dark shadow over the fledgling MBL, a stark reminder of the challenges they faced. Superfast Man, a natural leader with a steely resolve, wasted no time in responding to their provocation.

Reaching out to the extensive network of media contacts he had cultivated throughout his metahero career, Superfast Man orchestrated an interview with Thunder City's esteemed cable news talk show host, Barry Zing. The purpose was clear -- to address the looming threat of the IBG and offer a stern warning to those who sought to undermine the birth of the MBL.

Seated across from the older newsman at the Thunder News Network Studios, Superfast Man exuded gravitas, his expression solemn as he explained the circumstances of his disappearance and return. "Barry, as I emerged back into reality from that sneak attack, which I am convinced was orchestrated by our enemies, I found a group of villains here, hurling insults at the Meta Board League. I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to address them directly."

"Please, go ahead," said Barry, leaning back in his chair and adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses.

Turning toward the camera, Superfast Man said, "This is a message for the so-called Infamous Bedlam Gang and anyone else taking their side in this petty rivalry. You're fighting a futile battle. History has shown time and again that heroes prevail, and I strongly advise you to reconsider your actions. I couldn't be more serious about this."

Barry probed further, sensing the weight of Superfast Man's conviction. "Those are strong words, Superfast. Do you have anything more to say to them?"

Superfast Man nodded, his eyes reflecting the depths of his determination. "Yes, Barry, I do. I have a warning for the IBG. Your days are numbered. Already, one of Shaggy Faust's covert operatives has infiltrated your ranks. Yes, you heard me right. Amongst you, there is a traitor."

The revelation on TNN hung in the air like a shroud of mystery and intrigue, casting ripples of uncertainty within the metahuman community. Trust began to erode as suspicions spread like wildfire, for now, the villains themselves were left to grapple with the shadows of doubt, unsure of who among them had betrayed their cause. The battle lines had been drawn, and the stakes were higher than ever.

***

The Moontower, a hub of metahuman activity, remained a buzzing hive of discussions and speculations. While the selected heroes endured rigorous trials, metahumans from all walks of life convened to analyze the recent events that had shaken their metahero community, from the emergence of the enigmatic Infamous Bedlam Gang to the startling return and stern warnings of Superfast Man.

Amidst the cacophony of voices, a figure known only as the Lord of Chaos stood as a pillar of unwavering confidence. His very presence exuded an aura of power, and as he surveyed the gathering, a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Pawns... all of you are mere pawns in a grander scheme that none can fathom. But rest assured, you will come to understand... in time."

Rhyme Guardian, the Australian hero with divine rhyme at his command, had arrived at the Moontower. Weary from his long years on this world but hopeful for the future, he had sensed that his destiny might lie with this burgeoning team, though he wasn't exactly sure why.

"I'm curious about the membership process," he asked a passing metahero, an Englishman he knew only by reputation. "Is an invitation from a current member necessary? Or do you have to defeat the Injustice Board Gang and save the world first in order to be considered? Please, enlighten me.

"The Meta Board League will face the threats,
"Who'll make it in? Please place your bets!"

Vigilant as ever but focused on assembling his own team, Nightwatch replied to the question politely, if a bit bluntly. He and the other Meta Board members had been fielding questions like these since they'd first arrived at the Moontower, and he was getting tired of it. "Joining the Meta Board League or the Meta League of Europe requires an invitation or nomination, but at this point I wouldn't even bother with the MBL," the Englishman replied before walking away.

"Thank you," Rhyme Guardian called after him, but his smile was fading. As he surveyed the large room, sad memories began to flood through his mind about the last time he'd been in this huge spacecraft. At that time, it had been in Antarctica, and it was his team of metaheroes that had secured it for Meta 7, but at a great cost of lives. Still, he couldn't let the failures of his past burden him. There was a world that would need saving, and he would do so again just as he'd done in the past. After all, history might not exactly repeat, but it certainly did rhyme.

Not far away stumbled the figure known only as Freebooter, a metahuman who was rumored to have returned from the clutches of death, and who was ever ready to stir the pot with his provocative antics. He had a radical proposal in mind for the League's roster, and his words would spark several heated debates that echoed through the Moontower's digital halls.

"Hey," he slurred, appearing to be intoxicated, "I think we oughtta have a complete overhaul of the whole League! While those bozos are in there tryin' ta whittle the team down to some 'big seven,' just 'cause some hero teams happened to have that number in their iconic rosters, doesn't mean we have ta abide by that when they're so many others of us who could be great on the team!"

A few metaheroes in the room began to nod their heads, and murmuring voices began to erupt in agreement with the message, despite the messenger's disheveled appearance.

"Hell, yeah, I'm right!" continued Freebooter. "So why isn't anyone debating over all the deserving heroes who were excluded in the first place?" He grinned mischievously, having gained the ears of everyone in the room. "Y'know, there's one way to solve this problem -- why don't we just expand the League to fourteen, instead of fueling endless arguments over who should join? And, of course, we can't forget the floating chair fer a guest spot every once in a while! Ha!"

In the crowd of onlookers, a young metahero was nodding in agreement. This was Ritchie "Gooz" Stevens, a hero who had until recently been one of the famous Seven Senses under the name of Generator. Seeking to restart his metahero career on his own without the trappings of his "teen hero" past, he had recently decided to reinvent himself as an independent hero called Ener-G. Still, he missed being part of a team and had begun to wonder if there was a place for him in the MBL. Freebooter's idea had immediately appealed to him.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea!" Ener-G said, nodding his head. "I don't think it's a good idea to limit the team to just seven members when we have so many worthy candidates to choose from."

Some of the MBL candidates were taking a break from the grueling trials, one of them being Grow Worm. He didn't like what he was hearing at all.

"Hey, we've been working our butts off trying to earn our place in the seven-member team," said Grow Worm, "and you guys want to expand the roster before the original members have even been chosen? Gooz, no offense, but who nominated you? As Nightwatch stated, one must be nominated before joining the League."

Ener-G nodded and replied confidently, "No offense taken, Worm, but Ace Martian nominated me during the Meta Board meeting."

"Ace Martian?" Grow Worm retorted, skepticism lacing his words. "I don't think they counted that as a nomination, since Ace just nominated the entire Seven Senses team! As far as I'm concerned, if you're not undergoing the membership trials right now, you haven't been nominated!"

"I don't think so," Ener-G retorted, folding his arms defiantly, igniting a passionate argument among the gathered metahumans.

Nearby, Freebooter began to chuckle at the discord he was sowing. He took another heavy swig of his drink and moved on to other groups. The Lord of Chaos nodded approvingly. His undead pawn was serving him well.

***

Freebooter's unorthodox suggestions had begun to ignite a spark of intrigue among another handful of metaheroes gathered in the bustling Moontower.

Primate, the teenage hero known for his penchant for shaking up the status quo, couldn't resist the temptation to add his own twist to the ongoing discussions. "Given our history as fellow teen heroes," he said flippantly, "I'd been tempted to earnestly plead for a spot on Albino Chameleon's team. However, instead, I've decided to form a new team -- the Big Offsiders! Our mission is to combat coherent and meaningful discussions. Plus, we're always on the hunt for those pesky flowers, right?"

A burst of laughter erupted as Primate reveled in the inside joke that left the others grinning in amusement.

Xenolith, another teenage hero known for his mischievous streak, couldn't resist the opportunity to contribute to the growing chaos. "Why not call our group the Meta Board Teens -- or maybe just the Meta Teens?" he added with a playful wink. "After all, it was my question about the flowers that started it all, so I ought to have naming rights!"

Amidst the playful banter and brainstorming, Silent Nightboy, a quieter and more reserved metahuman, found his voice. "I'd like to announce that I've already started a Meta Teens thread on the message boards," he revealed, a hint of pride in his tone. "I'd love it if people could sign up there to get the ball rolling."

Although the idea had begun in jest, the three teen metaheroes now started to talk about the idea in earnest. The seeds of chaos that had been formed were indeed bearing fruit, but not all of it was bad.

***

As SuperStretch trudged along the rain-soaked streets of Thunder City, the weight of Albino Chameleon's cryptic challenge pressed upon him. "Prove that I have what it takes to be a member of the IBG," he muttered, his voice carried away by the drizzle. "What the heck is that supposed to mean, anyway? Am I supposed to go back to my old criminal ways and rob a museum or something? That's the kind of thing that got me into trouble in the first place, when that old antique I stole cursed me with stretching powers!"

His arms extended involuntarily, a testament to the extraordinary abilities that had forever altered his fate.

"But let's face it, Stretchy, old boy -- you're a freak!" he continued, his tone tinged with despondency. "It's no wonder nobody nominated you for the MBL. I'm not exactly an A-list metahero, am I? Maybe I should take up Albino's offer, after all." He shook his head, a mix of conflict and contemplation in his gaze. "I dunno. As much as I'm tempted by the thought, there's still something holding me back. Maybe it's that little angel on my shoulder telling me to stay the course and keep being a good guy, or maybe it's just my shattered nerves. Whatever the case, I sure got me a lotta heavy thinking to do."

Turning the corner, SuperStretch found himself abruptly halted beneath the sheltering awning of a modest grocery store. Before him stood a figure wearing the attire of a secret agent.

"Gah!" he exclaimed, taken off guard.

"Hello, SuperStretch," greeted Agent F7, an air of calm confidence surrounding him. "Going for a stroll, are you?"

"Y-yeah," SuperStretch stammered, his demeanor slightly sheepish. "Just mulling things over... you know."

"SuperStretch, I know about your meeting," declared Agent F7, his gaze steady beneath his sunglasses.

"Y-you do?" SuperStretch's eyes widened in astonishment.

"You're not a crook," Agent F7 asserted firmly. "At least not anymore. And you're certainly not a metavillain. You don't belong in the Infamous Bedlam Gang."

"H-how--?" SuperStretch's words caught in his throat. "How did you know?"

"I wasn't completely sure until now," Agent F7 responded, his tone resolute. "But you just confirmed my suspicions. Trust me, Stretch. Stay a hero, and forget about returning to a life of crime. It doesn't suit you anymore."

With that, Agent F7 produced a crumpled wad of bills and handed them to the dumbstruck SuperStretch. As he examined the familiar-looking currency, a realization dawned upon him -- they were the very same dollar bills he'd given to the old homeless man in the abandoned subway station.

"Wait a sec," SuperStretch muttered to himself. "Was that really an old beggar back there, or was that Agent F7 the whole time?"

Yet, as he turned to seek confirmation from the Agent, the mysterious metahero had already vanished without a trace. A shiver ran down SuperStretch's spine, and he quickened his pace, making a beeline for the nearest teleporter. He needed to return to the Moontower and put this momentary lapse in judgment behind him. He was a metahero, and that's what he would remain. Besides, he realized that he might know something about the IBG's headquarters that would interest the MBL if he could only confirm his suspicions about where it was located.