Puerta Mibela, La Perdita
Hero looked at the little piece of paper in his right hand, then raised his young and handsome face toward the one, pale and largely decaying, of his team-mate, Brian Dead. "It's here. Top floor."
The dead Strikeforcer gave a long stare to the tall, but otherwise quite ordinary, building. "This is their headquarters? he asked, perplexed.
"From what I know, they have not an headquarters. Not anymore, since the time of the ban. This is the place of their leader, the British with tree fingers" said with his New Zealander inflexion Brandon Mullarney, or Hero, as he was known world-wide.
"You mean Montague?"
"Yes, him. He occupies the penthouse."
The walking corpse nodded. "Ok, I am going to ring the bell" he said, taking a big breath.
"No" exclaimed Hero, stopping Brian taking firmly the arm with the index finger pointed to the bell button. With a crack, the arm broke in two.
"Sorry! I didn't want..." hero was visibly embarrassed. Brian Dead took the arm from Hero's hand with a hard look, and pressed it to the stump, actually reattaching it.
Hero smiled, all red in face. "well, I ma happy it was not permanent..." The phrase was welcomed by an even harder look of the other Strikeforcer. "Good start for this party... I know it will be a nightmare" observed the heroic zombie.
"Oh, come on, we are in the Caribbeans, they know how to party here... " tried to comfort him the New Zealender.
"They will not even talk to us..." said Dead, looking up to the top of the building. "Why do you stopped me?"
"They invited us, right? Why they shouldn't be welcome us? We fought with them, right?"
Dead did not answered.
"And I stopped you because we don't need the elevator. I know how to make an entrance!"
With those words, Hero took Dead over his ample, muscular arms, flexed his legs, and jumped, heading straight into the sky, to land over the terrace outside the living room of Grissom Montag.
As the feet of Hero touched the floor, the weight of the two superheroes, pressing the tile of the balcony, set on alarm the sophisticated defensive system implemented by Sandcrawler Security around the apartment, targeted at anything heavier than a pigeon. Half a dozen automated laser ray-guns converged over the spot of the augmented pressure, and fired.
An instant later, the eyes of the assembled membership of Vanguard International and Vanguard Europe were fixed over two burned and naked figures standing in the middle of the Japanese roof garden of their host.
One, the paler, turned his head toward the taller and tanned one.
"You know one thing, idiot?" said Brian Dead.
"No, what?" wondered Hero.
"You really know how to make an entrance."
