“You could’ve just knocked and said hello,” came Hallie’s voice from the intercom above the door. “Deactivating stunulators.”

    Mr. Epitome tensed and prepared to dive for cover. The defense systems protecting the entrance to the Lair Mansion often proved to be more of a hassle to the tenants then to any intruders. During his tenure as a member he had lobbied on multiple occasions to have an OPS security crew install a new system, but the rest of the team had objected. ‘Nostalgia’ was the common argument.

    The stunulators calmly exploded as the lock clicked on the door. Mr. Epitome stepped over the debris and entered the Mansion, twisting to fit through the door with the large box he was carrying.

    “Finally came to clear out your desk, huh?” Mr. Epitome traced the voice back to the brunette in the leotard descending down the stairs.

    “Dancer. Good day,” he greeted her. Dancer finished her descent and then rigidly stood at attention before the Exemplary Man and saluted.

    “Sir yes sir, good day to you as well, sir!” Dancer then relaxed and playfully poked him in the chest. “You know, a ‘hey, how’s it goin’’ is acceptable between teammates.”

    Mr. Epitome accepted the reprimand, but he felt he had to correct her on one important point. “We’re not teammates anymore.”

    “So you’re really going through with abandoning us?” She fixed him with her best puppy dog look.

    “I would hardly call it abandoning. The Lair Legion got along just fine before me, and I’m sure will continue to do so now that I’ve left the roster.” The Paragon of Power motioned for Dancer to walk with him to his office, and she complied, falling into step next to him.

    “But now we’ll be forced to revert back to our wild and cavalier ways with no government control at all!” Dancer cried in mock horror.

    “I’m sure Ms St. Clare and Mr. Boaz will keep you respectable,” he countered. Mr. Epitome peered through the wall to the kitchen to see CrazySugarFreakBoy! reading at the table. With a small burst of super-speed, the Man of Might shot past the doorway as to avoid detection.

    Dancer laughed again, increasing her pace for a moment to catch up. “You’re not afraid of the big bad sugar freak, are you?”

    “Not at all. I simply wish to avoid any, unpleasant, confrontations while I remove my belongings.” The two turned down the adjoining hall, past the living room where Trickshot and Nats were competing in a round of video game football.

    “So I don’t count as unpleasant? You sir are a flatterer,” Dancer chided him.

    “There would be no point in trying to avoid you with your probability powers,” Mr. Epitome pointed out. He stopped in front of his office.

    “You never do give a straight answer, do you? You can let your guard down around friends sometime, you know. It wouldn’t kill you. No matter how likely you think it would. I can guarantee that.” She winked at the end of the statement. “Well, I’d best let you get to it. You’ve got a long job ahead of you.”

    Mr. Epitome was surprised at that idea. “My office is very organized, I assure you. This should take no more than a few minutes.”

    “It was very organized, I agree.”

    “’Was’?”

    “Space Ghost was feeling kind of cramped in his closet, so De Brown Streak mentioned to him that your office space was up for grabs. Have fun!” She skipped away, leaving the Paragon of Power to his fate.

    For the first time in his career Mr. Epitome was afraid to use his X-ray vision.

END