“…I think I get it. As the queen of this club, you’re sorta the person pulling the strings of the people pulling the strings of the folks deciding which countries thrive and which ones die. Or something like that, right?”

“Depraved and elite?”

His lip quirked in a wry smile, born of both intrigue and distaste.

“Sounds like a weird mix of orgies and power-brokering.”

“Nice to meet you as well!”

Mark quickly scanned the girl’s attire, nodding appreciatively at her stylishness.

“That’s a cool outfit. Are you a superhero, or a model?”

“Telepath? Like reading minds?”

𝘖𝘩𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘩𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, he thought.
𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘧𝘪𝘵? 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵; 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐’𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘈𝘎𝘈𝘐𝘕!

Blushing furiously, he struggled to calm his mind.

“…And what’s the Hellfire Club? Sounds kinda ominous.”

“Hi! I’m Invincible. And you are..?”

He chuckled, and immediately regretted it. Rather than the confidence he intended to project, he heard far too much uncertainty in the sound.

Hovering, he warily regarded the provocatively clad woman.

“You have me at a disadvantage, miss. Who are you, and how do you know so much about me?”

For a second, he considered feigning confusion over her use of his name, but something in the woman’s unwavering, diamond-hard stare told him that she’d see through any attempt at subterfuge.

“OK, let me guess: You work for Cecil.”

He gave a resigned sigh.

“You’re in the GDA?”

He smiled, and gave a respectful nod.

“Hello. I’m Invincible.”

😂

“That color scheme reminds me of something…”

“Cool! Happy quadranscentennial!”

“Happy birth-month! How old are you turning?”