The Wrong Genre

~Introductions~

Flashmob was, in fact, organizing a rescue mission when the two heroes returned with the three villains in tow.

"Hey, Maestro, you were right!" Zakum said loudly, looking over her head at the plan she was still outlining since she hadn't seen them come in. The unexpected noise caused the female super to jerk upright in surprise; unfortunately, Zakum's face was positioned directly where her head was attempting to jerk to. "Hey, that kinda hurt," Zakum whined, rubbing his nose while attempting to look at the damage by crossing his eyes. Flashmob, clutching the back of her head because jeez was Zakum made of metal, turned to glare.

Kyle and Vertigo, who had also been too engrossed in the plan to notice the five enter, looked up as well. Vertigo attempted a smile, but it looked kind of painful. Kyle's eyes swept over the newcomers easily, until he spotted Romulus. The scar marring the side of the head-minion's face drew Kyle's unabashed gaze until he suddenly turned paper-white, then light green, and averted his eyes nervously.

"Lookit! There's a piano over here!" Zakum called from the next room over, surveying a rather badly cared for instrument; its keys were scratched terribly and seemed to be corroded.

"Zakum, you can explore later," Maestro called with a roll of his eyes, prompting Zakum to bound back into the room.

"Shall we get to know each other?" Stravarius asked with that blindingly hopeful smile that just made Maestro want to vomit. Interdit evidently felt the same way, with the suddenly deathly glare he was giving the blond. Kyle shrunk down into his chair as if ashamed, Vertigo continued to try being positive (perhaps Stravarius took lessons from somewhere, because hope did not spring that eternally), and Flashmob pinched the bridge of her nose to attempt to get rid of her already-growing headache.

"Oh, I'll ask the first question!" Zakum volunteered, hand rocketing into the air. Perhaps it was a blond thing. He turned to the two female superheroes and looked between them for a moment. "Why aren't you two wearing comic costumes?"

Dead silence.

The other men in the room, even Interdit, looked at Zakum in absolute horror. Vertigo had turned beet red. If another moment passed without intervention, Flashmob would have made sure silence wasn't the only dead thing in the room.

"You know, Zakum, as wonderful as that would be," Maestro paused to throw the two women a smirk because why not, "people don't wear comic costumes in real life. The spandex is completely impractical, mostly in respect to any sort of protection against attack." Zakum paused a second to digest that information.

"But... Your suits are practical?" He finally asked, glancing at Maestro, Romulus, and Interdit who were all wearing suits. Everyone else in the room was wearing civilian clothes; loose jeans, yoga pants, t-shirts, etc.

"Of course not," Maestro dismissed immediately. "They're terribly hot, they restrict movement, and have little if any protection against injury. But that isn't why we wear them, Zakum, we wear them because we have enough money to completely destroy expensive suits every single day and still come back wearing another; it's to show that we're rich."

"Oh," chorused everyone in the room who wasn't wearing a suit (minus Kyle, who still thought the table was the most interesting thing in the world). That made much more sense.

"But what about your dress?" He asked Vertigo.

"It's made of a very resistant material, it's short so it won't restrict my movement, and I'm wearing shorts," she explained with a patient smile. Zakum was apparently completely tactless, at least it was on accident unlike his boss, but his naivety was growing on her.