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An Evil Dinner Party

Count Down daintily wiped at a spot of caviar on his graying mustache.

“… and how did that particle decombobulator work against Terrific-Boy?”

“Excellent well,” Cape Fear replied, setting down his knife and fork. “Or you could say it worked… terrifically?” They both chuckled politely.

“Excuse me, dear sir, is this seat taken?” asked Eve Ill, moving to the Count’s left elbow.

“Not at all my lady, please have a seat!” the Count said, standing up to pull out the chair for her.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting down. She looked around quickly. “Glad we all got over that spandex phase. My skin can finally breathe.”

“BULK SMASH!” came a roar, and trays and food went flying in all directions. Cape Fear shook his head unbelievingly this time. “There’s one in every reunion, he sighed.”

“Quite quite,” replied the Count.

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