Baron Zemo's Lair. - A Matter of Diplomacy... an encore presentation. Part One

Baron Zemo's Lair

A Matter of Diplomacy... an encore presentation. Part One
Thursday, 11-Nov-1999 19:55:10
63.14.30.88 writes:

Banjooo marched through the Lair Legion’s entrance hall, absently tugging at his cuff links. He hated formal attire, and it had taken a considerable amount of effort to squeeze his Sea Monkey anatomy into even the most radically altered tuxedo. Ah, well… that was the price of being a head of state, he sighed to himself.

The doorbell behind him rang, and Banjooo promptly ducked. Sure enough, the stunner guns deployed from the walls right on miscue. This time, they did not fire, but instead spun wildly on their mounting arms, whacking a potted fern and sending it sailing though the air into the living room. Zebulon, the former Santa's elf, and current apprentice/maintenance man for NTU, quickly ran to examine the security system. “Airborne foliage.” He said critically, making a note on his clipboard. “That’s a new one.”

“Methinks the very same incident didst occur yesterday” Donar noted.

Zebulon gave him a withering look. “That was FLAMING airborne foliage” he explained in his squeaky little voice. “A potted begonia, if I remember correctly. Totally different mechanics, I assure you.”

Jarvis was busy trying revive Visionary, who was lying face down on the carpet with the shattered remains of the fern adorning the back of his head.

“Boy, does that bring back memories” spiffy said.

“Yeah” Jarvis agreed. “Get the smelling salts, will you?” He looked up as the King of the Sea Monkeys strode by. “Banjooo!” he called, rushing after the aquatic Legionnaire, “It’s about time you showed up! We just got word that Zemo is plotting to…”

“Save it” Banjooo replied curtly. “It’s my day off. I’ve got a kingdom to run, you know.”

“Well, that’s just it…” Jarvis explained. “It’s about this dinner tonight…”

“Out of the question” Banjooo cut in. “Tonight, I am ‘His Majesty, Banjooo, ruler of the undersea Kingdom of the Sea Monkeys’, you’re obviously mistaking me for ‘Banjooo, Legionnaire-who-might-actually-give-a-rat’s-ass-what-Zemo-is-up-too.’ Happens all the time.”

“Uh-huh.” Jarvis answered. “Ooookay, if that’s how it has to be. Would ‘his majesty’ consent to escorting our newly elected Lair Legion Public Relations Consultant to the reception? I notice that you were planning on attending this dinner stag.”

“Ummmm… It’s not Yo, is it?” Banjooo asked hesitantly. While he, like ever other Legion member, was quite fond of the odd Pure Thought Energy Legionnaire, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to go on a date with him/her. “I mean, Yo-woman is cute and all…”

“No… no…” Jarvis answered, grinning slightly. “She’s not even officially a Legionnaire.”

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be courteous” Banjooo agreed magnanimously. Things might be looking up! Finding a date for these diplomatic functions was always a pain. Not that he had trouble attracting the opposite sex. Quite to the contrary. Being royalty, he was considered the most eligible bachelor at 20,000 leagues. The main problem was finding a woman without any ambitions to be Queen, with whom he could go on a casual date. Sea Monkey women were always trying to lure him into marriage… “Who is it?”

Jarvis just smiled. “She’s waiting in the kitchen.”

Banjooo checked his reflection in the hall mirror. Damn, he was a fine looking monkey… He poked his head into the kitchen.

His date’s back was too him, but he wasn’t complaining. Her blonde hair was up, showing a graceful neck. She was wearing a light blue evening gown, low-cut to reveal a shapely back descending into an equally shapely…

“Ah… Cheryl, you’re escort for the evening has arrived…” Tina noted from the kitchen table, her eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.

Cheryl spun around to face him and gave him a warm smile. “Banjooo! You look wonderful!” she said. Her lightly freckled face smiled warmly.

“Gah!” Banjooo cried, shocked.

Cheryl shot Tina a questioning glance.

“He was just thinking that you looked good, too…” the telepath explained with a grin. “He was especially impressed by your…”

“Cheryl?!” Banjooo finally managed to blurt out, just in time. “You’re the PR consultant?”

The married woman made a wry face. “I’m afraid so” she admitted. “Jarvis talked me into it, since I wouldn’t accept a full time post as a Legionnaire. I tried to tell him I was an engineer, not a diplomat, but he said that anyone who could keep Visionary under control as long as I have was wasting her ‘people skills’…”

“He’s right, you know” Tina reassured her. “Of course, I don’t envy your job of trying to explain the Legion’s actions to the public” she added knowingly.

“Don’t be so smug, dear.” Cheryl shot back with a smile. “I hear he has you pegged as the Lair’s new Chief of Intelligence.”

Banjooo used the time her explanation provided to radically alter his thinking patterns. This was, after all, a married woman and a friend of his… Married women had no business dressing like that, he decided firmly. It must qualify as false advertising, or something.

“Lisa helped her pick it out.” Tina supplied, with a nod towards Cheryl’s outfit.

“Uh… thanks” Banjooo said, casting her an irritated look. He turned back to Cheryl. “Well… I suppose we should be going”

“All right” Cheryl agreed, gathering her things. They walked back towards the front door, passing the still groggy Visionary as Jarvis and spiffy helped him to his feet. “Bye, dear” she called, ducking under the still wildly spinning stunner guns, which Zebulon was desperately hanging onto, riding them like some bizarre mechanical bull. “Don’t wait up, we’ll probably be late.”

“I almost got it!” Zebulon assured them in his squeaky voice as he went whizzing by, frantically trying to make some repairs in mid flight. Banjooo was just happy to make it under the rapidly whirling elf without getting barfed on.

Cheryl was waiting for him on the front porch. “I’ve never been to the White House before” she admitted. “What is it like?”

“Not so different from any other house” Banjooo assured her. There was the sound of rending metal from the entrance behind them, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a muskrat hitting the inside of the front door with a thud and a squeak. Well, either a muskrat, or a two-foot-tall, formerly disgruntled elfin handyman…

“Not so different?” Cheryl asked, raising an eyebrow.

“With a few notable exceptions.” Banjooo conceded.

Visionary, who thought the board could use a little Banjoooo.