Tales of the Parodyverse

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killer shrike
Fri May 04, 2007 at 09:08:16 pm EDT
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Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? Part Five
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Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? Part Five


Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? Part Four

Katarina Allen let the hostess escort her to their reserved table, casting a wary glance back to the others in her party. Neither man had spoken much since their original meeting at the airport, and it was clear both were in the process of taking the other’s measure.

Her father, Master Sergeant William Allen, was in his full dress uniform, which clued the young weaver that the get-together would not go smoothly. Bill Allen was not one who dressed to impress, but rather intimidate.

The chosen subject for that intimidation, Dominic Clancy, was not in uniform, as that would require him to don his star spangled field jacket and skull cap he wore as Mr. Epitome, the Exemplary Man, a facet of his life both he and Kat were, for the moment, trying to keep from her father.

“Not that I’m complaining, but I thought we were going to have dinner at your place, Kitten. Why the change?” Sergeant Allen asked as he watched his daughter accept the chair Dominic held for her.

“Things got a little hectic with cleaning and work and cooking and we decided it would be more relaxing if we let someone else worry about all that,” Kat replied in a hurried tone.

“Mnhm,” the fit older man made a noncommittal noise and waited for Dominic to sit. Once he had he joined them, “Too bad Dom here wasn’t able to help you out with those things; I was looking forward to that brisket.”

“Yes, well,” Dominic shifted in his seat, “Some other time, maybe.”

“Dad, you’re going to love this place; best steakhouse in the city.”

“Sure looks expensive,” Sergeant Allen agreed, “What is it you do, Dom, that keeps you so flush and so busy?”

“I’m a researcher for the Panser Institute,” the Paragon of Power referenced the non-profit think tank he did indeed represent.

“Researching what?”

“Whatever my bosses tell me,” Dominic smiled.

The sergeant didn’t seem amused, “Like what? Or is that classified?”

“Uh, no, no. I just research and analyze data on different foreign and domestic meta-threats and try to offer strategies for countering them.”

“Meta-threats?”

“I suppose the civilian term would be super-villains.”

“I’m no civilian, Dom.”

“No, sir; clearly not.”

Kat cleared her throat to interrupt, “Waiter’s here. Who wants what to drink?”

After the order was placed the conversation continued.

“So what was your tour like?” Bill asked Dominic.

“Sir?”

“Kat said you in the Army.”

“Well, no. She misunderstood something I said and assumed that I was.”

“Really?” Sergeant Allen arched an eyebrow, “What was that?”

“Oh, who remembers?” Kat laughed, “It was when we first met. He might not have said anything. Maybe it was just his hair.”

“Mhmn,” her father glanced at Dominic’s buzz cut with some approval, “I just ask, because Kat pretty much spent her entire life around soldiers, so if she thought you were one it would have to be a hell of a case of miscommunication on someone’s part.”

“Dad,” the young weaver said firmly, “Dominic’s not a soldier. He never told me he was a soldier. I just misheard him, that’s all.”

“Of course, honey.”

The trio’s drinks arrived, along with another lull in the conversation. Sergeant Allen waited until Dom had poured his bottle of pilsner into his glass before asking-

“Clancy? That’s Irish, right?”

“Yes.”

“Irish Catholic?”

“…. yes….”

“Mhm,” the Southern Baptist took a drink of tonic water, “Come from a big family?”

The Paragon of Power blinked, “I had an older brother.”

“Dom’s family was killed in a car crash when he was six,” Kat explained.

“Sorry to hear that,” Sergeant Allen said sincerely while grimacing at his daughter’s goblet of wine, “Family’s important. The most important thing in a man’s life. And a woman’s of course.”

The career soldier let that pronouncement diffuse through the already tense atmosphere as he perused his menu.

“So, sir, what are your new duties going to be?” Dominic asked.

“Same as my old ones were before I mustered out: DI. That’s Drill Instructor, Dom. I’m going to be supervising Basic Combat Training at Fort Hama,” Bill wasn’t pleased with discussing his assignment in front of his daughter, who he knew was worried about his return to service in the Parody War, “The U.S. has got a bunch of raw recruits and not much time to make them soldiers.”

“It’s a good thing then, we have men like you who can do just that,” his daughter’s boyfriend complimented.

“What a nice thing to say,” Bill Allen said back facetiously, “But it’s what we Allens do. We’ve been serving as far back as the War of Northern Aggression; that’s the Civil War to you, Dom. I remember when Kat here thought about enlisting herself.”

“Dad, I was six when I said that,” Kat protested, “I also wanted to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.”

“I know, I know. You were just telling your old Pa what you thought he wanted to hear. You always had too much talent to be stuck in This Man’s Army anyway. You’ve seen her work, right, Dom?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m no artist myself, but I know quality when I see it. Her teachers saw it too. Told her and her mom and me that Kitten had the creativity to make a career out of her art. How many people can say that? That they can be successful doing something they love?”

“Not many,” Dominic agreed in a quiet tone, sensing where this conversation was heading.

Katarina did as well, and she glared at her father. The admonition wasn’t enough to stop him, however.

“My only hope is, she gets the chance to be that success. That nothing gets in Kat’s way,” Sergeant Allen disclosed, “It could have happened before, but she climbed her way out of the mess others made of her life.”

“Which mess, Dad: my kidnapping or my engagement?” the young woman asked bitterly, referencing her abduction to the alien world of Apocalyspe and her failed betrothal to another man.

“I didn’t know Dom knew about those things,” Bill Allen honestly stated, “But to answer your question, both. And the fact you’ve done so has made me proud to be your father.”

“So why are you giving us such a hard time?” Kat shot back, “Almost every word out of your mouth has been a dig at me or especially Dom.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” her father adjudged.

“I don’t,” she turned to Dominic, “What about you? How long have you wanted to get into my father’s face for all the smug comments he’s made?”

Dominic gaped, “Well, I wouldn’t say, I haven’t, uhm….”

“Kat, you need to calm down.”

“I agree with your father, Kat,” Dominic made the mistake of saying, “Obviously there is a great deal to discuss between the two of you, but this might not be the most ideal location to do it.”

Katarina Allen wasn’t sure which upset her more; the fact that her boyfriend was chiding her while she was trying to defend him (something he seemed reluctant to do himself), or when he thought the matter was just between her and her father. It reminded her, however briefly, what Dominic had done with his own family. She pushed away from the table and stood, “Of all the ways I thought this evening would go, I never expected this. Congratulations to the two of you.”


[Cue Flashback Wipe]

Yuki, watching the young woman sitting on the edge of her bed tensely: Ouch.

Kat, snorting: Yeah. Ouch.

Amber: OK, that explains some of your mental breakdown, but not all of it.

Kara: Right. What about the gravy and mustard stains?

Marie: And the crisis involving the spoons?

Citizen Z: And if there’s any way a member of the Parodyverse’s criminal class could use this information in removing another obstacle to her goal of global domination? Er, because that would be bad.

Kat, forelornly scratching at the blot of gravy on her frock: I was getting to that….


[The next Flashback Wipe would be interrupted by a cutaway shot to Sergeant William Allen unpacking his belongings at his bunk at Fort Hama. Producing a cell phone from his bags he dials a number with a Langley, Virginia area code]

“Hello, Gordon? It’s Bill Allen. Yes, I’m at the base. Look, I know it’s late and I don’t want to keep you, but I was wondering if you could run a check for me? His name is Dominic Clancy. No DOB or Social, but he’s somewhere between 25-30 years old. I know it’s not much, Gordon, but you’d really be helping me and Gail- he’s dating my daughter. Maybe, but humor your old sergeant won’t you? There’s something about this guy I don’t trust. Thanks.”


To Be Continued


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