Log:Once You Eliminate the Impossible...

2016/06/22 Paragon Porter Portennant Griffin Cryostatic Kyssie 1

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Wil you be mine? Will you be mine? Won't you be my neighbor?

No.

That's the general consensus from Porter's former neighbors. But it still really is a nice day! He's even wearin shorts! And no hoodie!

Frighteningly ghost- and chicken-like legs manage to propel Porter and the Pink Cadillac that is the personal conveyance of Lady Kysmette Porter, Duchess of UhOh.

Yes, she can walk. Yes, she likes to. No, she doesn't like to RIGHT NOW.

Because RIGHT NOW she's enjoying a choco-vanilla swirl cone. Jumbo. Some of it is even making it past her fingers, nose, cheeks, lips, and (formerly) bright pink shirt to make it into her mouth.

Para walks alongside Porter as he pushes Kyssie along. She's trying to keep up with the mess Kyssie is making of herself, dabbing her cheeks with a napkin from time to time when she gets really messy.

She's wearing a white sun dress and sandals. Frighteningly ghost white legs, arms, and everything else is what she has in common with Porter, but her legs and arms are anything but chicken-like.

Para has been on unofficial retirement since Kysmette's safe return home and hasn't been on patrol since. She also hasn't taken back the name Paragon after the prison break. For someone who once lived to only be a hero, now she just lives to be a hero to two people.

"You really spoiled her with a megajumbo cone, Sweetie," Para says with concern. She's already calculating the sugar content of that cone and Kysmette's current measured metabolism to see how hyper she'll get and for how long, giving a fairly decent estimate of when they'll be finally getting some sleep tonight.

You know what beautiful summer days are great for on the East Coast?

That's right! Hawaiian shirts and shorts!

Ivan "Not Cryostatic At All, What Are You Talking About?" Maddox saunters along the sidewalks of downtown Colonial Bay while enjoying a positively enormous pineapple upside-down ice from that famous Italian ice place over on 32nd.

You know the one that only has outdoor seating and never enough of it, plus they always close before the winter weather really sets in, but open with free small ices sometime in early April.

"Well this is just embarassing," comments Ivan as he finds himself face to face with the Porters. More importantly, Ivan finds himself face to face with The Pink Cadillac whose roof sports the same pattern and color fabric as his latest Hawaiian shirt.

"Sorry?" Porter offers Paragon. Because she'll always be a shining example of everything awesome in a person, to him.Not that he's really sorry for the ice cream. He's grinning. "Maybe she'll crash when it wears off?" When, not if. He's being optimistic. "Besides, she's been so great today. Three times!" He holds up fingers. "Asked every time. No pullup, no accidents!"

Proud Porter then grinds to a sudden halt when he realizes they're about to commit strollerular...er? homicide.

"Sorry!"

"Mmrph--EY!"

One is apologetic for the near-collision. One is surprised, then annoyed. And wearing all of the remaing jumbo swirl cone.

In a completely unrelated casual stroll- Griffin Freeman is walking down the road wearing something vaguely adventurey. (This will do: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/bDwlk)

He's got an extra large Strawberry Banana smoothie in his right hand, and is grinning ear to ear. Someone is enjoying their 'retirement' as well.

He's about to stoop down to pet a passing pug when he notices the Porters and a hell of a fashion faux pas. He nods to the dogs owner instead and moves in to intercept. He's moving at a pretty good clip- considering his speedwalking is well in excess of a normal man's sprint.

Griffin comes to a stop nearby. He pauses a moment looking from Porters, to Baby-Porter Carriage to Ivan Maddox. Internally he's debating if should be polite or say something about this shirt fiasco.

Not being Cryostatic, he goes with the former.

"Afternoon, Porters! Little Pink Porter!" He makes a silly face at her.

He turns to look at Ivan, thinking something was quite familiar about the young lad.

He snaps his fingers. "I've got it... give me a second. I'm great with faces."

"Oh the mall! Trashcan-Boy! Man! Good to see you..." His eyes cut to the carriage again. "Oh- that's.... embarassing."

Para chuckles as Porter's grin, smiling in return. "I suppose that -is- worthy of victory ice cream," she concedes to Porter's great parenting skills. "It's not like we don't have time to stay up with her." And Para is full of boundless energy. Maybe too much sometimes.

She pulls up to a stop as Porter suddenly aborts his strolling path. She studies Ivan's shirt, then their carriage. Her mouth opens as if to come to some sort of realization when Griffin suddenly greets them. Her attention is pulled to him instead, offering a smile. "Hello, Mr. Freeman," she says warmly in that "just a little too over enunciated" tone of hers that doesn't quite sound humanly normal.

It is very clear from the expression on Ivan's face that he does not know the Porters very well.

Young Mr. Maddox's gaze is diverted from the Pink Cadillac toward Para at the sound of her voice and his eyes widen. It's impossible to tell if Ivan is shocked, awed, amazed, stunned, or simply surprised to see her there. His gaze next diverts toward the surprised Porter.

Griffin arrives and chimes in, Ivan's cheeks going bright red in embarassment at the mention of 'Trash Can Boy'. Ivan steps around the Pink Cadillac, offering a fist to Porter as he pointedly ignores Griffin's barb to quietly intone, "Bro. Respect."

Porter may want to respect knuckle Ivan because Ivan does not seem to be likely to remove his proffered fistbump any time soon. Even so, Ivan crouches down alongside the stroller and smiles politely at Little Lady Kysmette and offers up his pineapple upside-down ice as payment for the loss of her megajumbo choco-vanilla swirl sundae.

Ivan looks up at Porter and Para, smiling as he conversationally notes, "Beautiful little girl you two have. Congratulations."

Porter must be the only one who doesn't notice that the shirt factory and stroller factory went halfsies on some bolts of fabric. What are the odd-oh, right.

Instead, he's darting aroudn to the front of the stroller to check on Kyssie, grabbing some napkins from Para to help with uncovering the princess. "Sorry, Sweetie."

Yes, he has two Sweeties. One's just mini. Then something hits is brain. And it's not Ivan's knuckles. "Trach-can boy?" Wait. Wasn't he, and possibly a stroller, involved in that, too? At least once?

He turns around to offer a still-apologetic smile to Ivan. "Sorry. And thanks!"

Kyssie isn't grinning back at Griffin. At least not that one can tell through brown and white swirls. She looks ...scowly. grumpy.

Then there's also the new smell that begins wating up in the vicinity.

Why is it that parents remind everyone to make sure they have clean underwear in case they're in an accident? If you're in one, what are the odds they'll STAY clean through it?

Para didn't register Kysmette taking the cone to the face and clothes. It's usually Porter that's the messy one. "Thank you. I think she looks a lot like her father," Para grins. She must be going blind, because the blonde haired pink princess looks nothing like the coffee-haired Porter.

Looking down at Kysmette as Porter works on cleaning her up. She gasps as she finally sees the mess and that scowl that just breaks her heart. "Oh, Sweetie," she says piteously, though she could be talking to either of her two sweeties. She hands over more napkins and offers to help clean Kysmette.

Griffin puts his hands up defensively and says to Ivan, "No disrespect intended- though in hindsight, it wasn't the most thoughtful way of phrasing that. Sorry man."

It isn't the slight offense he might have brought out in Ivan- but Kysmette's grumpy scowl that sends a chill down his spine. Watching the Porters dab and wipe and smudge and scour and plenty of other cleaning techniques makes him suddenly glad he's not a parent.

"Shyeah," responds Ivan to Griffin. It's difficult to tell if that was sarcastic or genuine, 1980's teen speak just perpetually sounds ambiguously sarcastic. A roll of his shoulders later, Ivan offers a salutory fistbump to Griffin with the hand holding the pineapple upside-down ice.

This could get messy if Griffin isn't careful, though the ice is inexplicably unmelted. Despite the ambient heat and humidity of the day and the fact that Ivan has kept his ice in direct sunlight since coming up short in front of the Porters and Kysmette's FANTASTIC PINK CADILLIKE CONVEYANCE, his pineapple upside-down ice seems to be thoroughly and completely frozen, as though it were still in the freezer at that famous Italian ice place.

"I'd rather not talk about it, bro," replies Ivan to Porter's question about the nickname.

"She definitely does, now..." Porter agrees. He IS usually the messy one. He unhooks Kyssie and pickes her up to hold her. Hopefully this will make her happy AND make cleaning easier.

Remember, he's being optimistic.

What it does do is 1) Lets Kyssie share, so now POrter is wearing ice cream on his shirt, arms, hands, and maybe face.

It also 2) Makes him aware of the smell. Which means some of that on Kyssie's shorts, and now his shirt... might not actually be chocolate icecream.

"Woah... uh... I think I need to get her changed..."

Kyssie seems to approve of this, because the scowl turns into a grin. And she bounces. "Fwump! Fwump!"

Ok, so FLASHTHWUMP has a few too many consonant combos for her. But it's still easier than Instantaneous Geographical Translocation! Porter can't even say that.

Para catches a whiff, crinkles her nose, and leans back. Yep, this looks like a job for Daddy. "I'll take care of the stroller, Sweetie. I think you have your hands full," she offers a thankful smile that he's taking one for Team P.

Griffin fights the urge to shrug and instead meets Ivan's fistbump. He smiles, feeling that he's done all he can to mend bridges today with 'Trashcan-Boy'.

On that action, he notices the incredibly icy Italian Ice. 'Hmm...' he thinks to himself, finding it only slightly odd because he can't think of an Italian Ice purveyor near by- he certainly wasn't thinking of the one way over on 32nd.

He gives in to the urge, and shrugs it off as odd. Lots of stuff is odd in this town. If he chased down every odd thing he encountered in a day- well it would be quite a busy and hectic life. Giving up his bounty-hunter's license was the best thing he's ever done- but it got him a pretty nice nest egg to supplement nature's bounty.

Porter and Kysmette disappear via Instantaneous Geographical Translocation! TM as if to prove Griffin's point.

Griffin fights the urge to shrug and instead meets Ivan's fistbump. He smiles, feeling that he's done all he can to mend bridges today with 'Trashcan-Boy'.

On that action, he notices the incredibly icy Italian Ice. 'Hmm...' he thinks to himself, finding it only slightly odd because he can't think of an Italian Ice purveyor near by- he certainly wasn't thinking of the one way over on 32nd.

He gives in to the urge, and shrugs it off as odd. Lots of stuff is odd in this town. If he chased down every odd thing he encountered in a day- well it would be quite a busy and hectic life. Giving up his bounty-hunter's license was the best thing he's ever done- but it got him a pretty nice nest egg to supplement nature's bounty.

Ivan withdraws his ice-holding hand, his bro knux having been accepted.

Next he looks to Porter. Then he looks at his pineapple upside-down ice. Back to Porter.

Reluctantly, Ivan withdraws his respect knux. Ivan doesn't want any of that sludgestank on his hand(s).

"Uh. Re-respect Rain Check?" offers Ivan to Porter and/or Kysmette.

"Thanks, Sweetie." And Porter isn't even sarcastic about Para's division of parental responsibilities. "Ok, Sweetie." That's for Kyssie. "Ready?"

Kyssie is more than ready. She bounces more. Which is not the best thing with the messy shorts."Fwump! Fwump!"

"Ok, Ok... Be back as soon as we're cleaned up and changed." The last is to Para. Then a nod and "'Scuse us a second" to the guys.

POrter then smacks the doohickamawatchamathingy on his belt and Kyssie squeals in delight.

"WHEE-" FLASHTHWUMP.

And they're gone in a strobe of light and dull sound of iair filling the void.

Porter and Kysmette disappear via Instantaneous Geographical Translocation! TM as if to prove Griffin's point.

With Porter gone, Para begins to pick up some of the dirty napkins left behind and deposits them into a nearby trashcan. "So who is your friend, Mr. Freeman?" she asks, looking between Ivan and Griffin as she stands akimbo, closed fists resting on her hips. Old habits die hard. Her overall stance and body language are generally masculine.

"This is... umm... Ivan. We ran into him... ha- funny that. In the mall a few weeks back." Griffin says to Third. "It was a minor incident for sure. Yeah... it was... well it more or less just like this." He smiles and shrugs again.

Ivan looks directly at Griffin. DIRECTLY. AT. GRIFFIN.

"Shyeah. What're the odds of that?"

Planting his hands on his hips as well, Ivan turns to regard Para. He looks her up and down a couple of times before he glances back at Griffin. There is a long pause as Ivan attempts to figure out the correct way to ask the question bubbling in his brain.

"So, like... You and that dude, huh?" inquires Ivan of Para, gesturing with his head toward where Porter stood not so long ago.

"Me and that dude what?" Para asks, clueless at what he's trying to ask. She has an expression so innocent that she can't just be playing dumb. She really IS dumb!

That dude. Porter has probably called worse.

There is another FLASHTHWUMP a few feet away. That dude has returned... and he cleans up really well? Not to mention really, really quickly?

Stained tee and shorts are a memory, replaced with gunsmoke grey pressed slacks and matching suitcoat. There is just enough shimmer to the fabric to draw attention without being gaudy or bright. Beneath this is a black silk shirt and a deep crimson tie with matching pocket kerchief to add a splash of color. All of it is cut to fit him as if, well made for him. Polished Oxfords, a Rolex, and silver-framed smoke-lensed shades fill out the accesories as he turns slowly, re-orienting himself and gaining his bearings.

"Bro. Where's the pinkest of peewee princesses?" inquires Ivan as Porter's return attracts his attention.

And then Ivan notices the outfit. Ivan tilts his head to one side and then looks over at Para. He looks her up and down in that white sundress, then looks back over at Porter. Nodding his head, he asides to Para in a stage whisper, "Oh. I totes get it. Dude's an undercover playboy."

"Geez Porter that was fast. Where's Kys?" Griffin asks curiously- sometimes he wonders aloud- even after Ivan just asked that very thing. This time he just whistles and offers Ivan high-five. "Now I see what Third sees in you." He jests, giving Porter a smirk and a thumbs up.

"Oh, Sweetie, you're back al--" Para asks as she turns to look at Porter, only to stop in mid-sentence, stunned by the nice suit. It's very rare that she gets to see Porter in a suit. Let alone a nice fitting suit worn without stains or a tie sitting askew. She may need some time to compute this. Or capture video of the momentous occasion.

She's still stuck, frozen, staring, as Ivan whispers aside to her. Her jaw works a few times as if chewing on something. Maybe something short-circuited. "A...a...what?"

She doesn't bother to ask where Kyssie is, since it's already been asked twice. But she is very curious to know as well.

Porter completes his slow turn, head and eyes somewhat lifted above normal sightline. The comments neither interrupt nor accelerate the rotation, and he doesn't seem to notice, or at least acknowledge, the others until he stops facing in their direction.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" He adjusts his tie slightly, smooths his shirt, then flicks his wrists slightly to let the cufflinks pull the cuffs to the proper position.

Though he's speak towards them, he seems more interested in his clothing and isn't so much speaking TO them. Para does promptly draw his shades, however, and he seems to repeat Ivan's prior scan; he sweeps her head to toes and back again..

Now a smile. "Well... hello there."

Griffin crosses his arms, feeling a bit miffed by Porter's response, but not wanting to interrupt whatever kink Porter has planned.

Considering it's his kid, Griffin figures he's got no place pushing the question any further.

He takes a long pull off his smoothie.

"Hello, Sweetie," Para replies, raising a reddish eyebrow at 50 shades of Porter. "Where's Kysmette?" she takes the lead on asking, since the other two were ignored.

"Sweetie?" A brow arches over one lens. "That's very...sweet of you. Also a bit presumptuous, don't you think?" He takes off the glasses to give her another eyeing. Not lewd, but ...critical. "I'll admit that your hair color is striking, and you fill the dress well, but your uniqueness ends there. I'll give you a ..5, at most." His head tilts towards Griffin. "The fossil would be happy to take you home, I'm sure."

"Uh... What?"

"A /FIVE/? She's clearly a straight up nine, bro."

Looking at Para again, Ivan offers a derisive scoff and jerk of his head in Porter's direction.

"Why are you with an abusive flatline like that? You can do so much better." First it was that her armor was to masculine. Now he's calling her a 5? But she's nothing like five!

"No, sweetie...I'm unit *3*" Para reminds politely. "Third of ten."

Griffin ignores the fossil comment. He's not so prideful that he has to respond to every barb. But what he won't stand up for is this lousy treatment of Third, who is an upstanding citizen and former hero- and more importantly, mother & lady.

"Woah bub, I think you might have hit your head with that last disappearing act. You're acting weird- even for you." Griffin says a bit defensively stepping towards Porter.

Porter waves a hand rather dismissively at Para, looking to Ivan. "You're welcome to her. I have no-" He stops mid-sentence and head and eyes rotate to Para. Then his head tilts while still watching. "Third of Ten...?"

Curiosity promptly makes way for laughter. Enough that his entire face lights up, though it isn't especially ...warm. "..Of course... Paragon. I did always wonder what you looked like without the armor..."

She is oggled once more, followed by a light roll of his shoulders. "I stick by my rating.. So..."

He claps his hands lightly together and brushes them off of one another. "Since I know that I'm not in Kansas, anymore, I'll ask. Does no armor mean no Questonite moral compass on a stick embedded right up there, too?" Both brows arch curiously.

Para quickly catches on to this foreign Porter at last. "But that is not my assigned number..." she tries to be patient. Why doesn't he get it? Her eyebrows creep upward at his question. "Right...up where?" she murmurs puzzledly. "I don't require armor to be moral."

Griffin nudges Ivan and says, "I don't think this is Original Flavor Porter. You might want to step back a bit. If things get weird you're gonna have to run like hell!"

He suddenly feels like this is some other trap- like the one that cost Para her 'gon' and him his BEA.

Out of habit his hand goes for his sidearm- worried that Alpha is on the scene. But the teleportation swap-a-roo confuses his theory a bit. A lot really. His hand of course finds nothing there. His sidearm, now abandoned for something more concealed.

"Ok Slimeball- where's Porter and the kid?" He asks, his voice suddenly enraged. "I'm not going to ask again."

That brings Porter's attention to the fossil. Sharply. The movement in his eyes is, at least, but the look of displeasure and annoyance is only a brief flash across his face. "Slimeball? That's not very creative. Can't you do any better than that? At least she has some manners. No sense of humor, or common sense, or much else... if she's anything like her counterpart. But she was always polite."

Now his smile returns again, though its even less warm than his laugh was. Him putting the sunglasses back on doesn't help either.

"Right up until she broke. But to answer your question: I don't know and I really don't care. There's much more important things to worry about."

Paragon holds up a hand with her fist closed to signal Griffin to stop. "Our Porter is safe. This one is telling the truth," she tries to calm Griffin's anger. She's just so darn placcid about this. Maybe because as long as Porter and Kysmette are safe, there's nothing for her to worry about. But still, she'll check with this Porter on that. "She broke? That is a shame. I hope she was able to keep the city safe." Or keep her loved ones safe. She suddenly tilts her head in a move too precise for normal humans. "More important things? Like what?"

Griffin is surprised the Slimeball wasn't right on the money- something else is going on here. What that is is well above Griffin's head. He's not a scientist or master of mysticism and mystery.

Para's signal does the trick- he believes her, if she says her child and fiancee are safe. So he happily plays the rear (silent) guard.

"The city, of course. The world. Why own one when there's so many more?" Porter gestures around to thei surroundings. "This Colonial Bay is much more ...intact than the one I'm used to. All the better."

He does get around to answering Paragon's other question, too. A sigh. A nod. Hands clasp before him in a somber gesture. "Yes. It was a terrible shame. Mostly in that she was NOT able to do that. When the Towers fell on her," he pauses to gesture to the southwest and the pair of highrise office buildings, "they were rather occupied. She was, well..." he chuckles, "crushed."

Para tries to warn her Porter away from returning. <> There is some worry on Porter's end, but not a spike. His seems to have something to do with stain removal from clothing. And walls.

Para gets a muddled mental connection that makes her worry her warning didn't get through. Because warning Porter to not come back and to get Kysmette out of the city would usually cause some sort of spike in fear and worry on her Porter's end.

It doesn't seem like Griffin needs to warn Ivan twice. The lightweight young man backs off as Griffin interposes himself physically, Ivan's retreat subdued and quiet as can be while Porter deals with the combined wit and talent and power of Griffin and Para! He gradually backs away and around a corner, disappearing into an alley - presumably in hopes of escaping down a side street or calling for the Army National Guard to roll in on Megalomaniacal Porter.

Griffin is grateful the clumsy lad makes a clean get-away. For a moment he wishes he could do the same, that is until Porter starts waxing Conquerer. That chaps Griffin's hide.

"Ok- I know for a fact Porter doesn't do maniacal claims to rule the multiverse." He says standing up to Porter.

"No one rules here but the people bub. You'll have to climb over my dead body before it's any other way- mine and a whole lot more." He adds confidently.

Porter shifts his attention from sundress to fossil. No, the upstart wasn't really ever paid much mind to. "Another shame, that my counterpart here doesn't realize his full potential and claim his birthright." His smile dims, but only for a moment before returning with a clap of his hands. "On the other hand, that just leaves more for me, doesn't it?"

A sigh recedes his response to the latter part. "Ah, yes, that. Well, I am a benevolent ruler. I've granted that wish to thousands, and I'll offer you the same., if that's what you really want."

Para is just gobsmacked as she hears these completely foreign viewpoints spew from Porter's mouth. Any Porter. She just can't really make sense of it. Even after Despair, which wasn't really Porter, she still can't comprehend of anyone like Porter being so evil or megalomaniacal. It shows at true lack of understanding of the multiverse on her part. Or she's just that dumb and set in her ways. Damn hardcoding.

Eventually Para navigates her way out of her stupor. "I believe it's you who has not realized his full potential. You are capable of so much good," she says imploringly, "that is so much more satisfying than trying to rule or hurt people." Maybe she still can't process that this Porter is a murderer.

"/NO ONE/ has a birthright to rule... wait did you say THOUSANDS?" Griffin asks incredulously. "And you think you have the right to do that here too? Na... no way bub. No way. No how."

Griffin begins strafing around to put Porter between he and Para.

Arguably it's Fate that is the murderer; this Porter is simply directing Fate's cold, vicious hands toward targets.

Ivan gets deep into the alley way, checking for homeless people and carelessly discarded, motion-triggered smartphones and/or cameras before he flexes his muscles, focusing his will upon the energy he feels flowing through and around him. Electricity sizzles and cracks off of his body in a violent nimbus before he starts spinning in place. Civilian clothes are cast in all directions before, abruptly, Cryostatic practically explodes out of his tornado of electricity and freezing fog, collecting his secret identity's clothes.

The Scarfed Speedster quickly scampers up the side of a building and wraps his clothes up in a tight ball that gets tucked into a leeward corner. He promptly leaps over the edge of the building and starts arcing smoothly along on a Rime Runway that draws him on an awkward trajectory along the block to eventually land nearby the increasingly hostile situation. Visibly raising an eyebrow under/through his domino mask, Cryostatic eyeballs the strafing Griffin and the imperious looking Porter.

"Broah, broah, broah!" Cryostatic holds up his hands in a peaceful/placating gesture. "What's all the anx, homeslices?"

"I see you're as witty and understanding as ever, Paragon," Porter compliments her through Griffin with sarcasm he expects she'll miss. His eyes never leave Griffin, though. A brow arches. "No one? I have a solar system and a few billion subjects who disagree... but I admire your vigor! It's been a long time since anyone had the will to challenge me, even with words. Still, they're just words. Sticks and stones and all that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to double my holdings."

Para misses some of it. Maybe all of it, even with her Porter's multiple attempts to teach her how to pick up on disingenuous people. But still, even if this Porter has committed the worst of crimes, she still has to give him a chance before giving up on him and resorting to violence. It's just how she is, but who knows why? It goes against everything Mechaneer programmed her to be.

"I don't want to hurt you, James," she says pleadingly, using his first name. It's still rare for her to use it even in private. Porter is a hero. This is not Porter. But there must be something similar, she hopes.

She appears nonplussed at his claims of ruling a solar system. Mostly because her mind is running scenarios of how such a thing would come about. "You have so much. Why do you need more? Why do you need to harm anything?" She sighs slightly and resists running computations on how to go free that dimension. "Please, stand down and leave our dimension in peace. I will give you this one chance. To run," she says as politely and informative as any of her statements. The consequences don't need to be listed.

"You're not going anywhere." Griffin says firmly as Cryostatic streaks in. He's actually grateful to see the young hero.

"Well except for home." He says a bit less courageously after Para gives him an opportunity to run.

Griffin continues moving away from Paragon, but now he's moving to put Cryostatic equally distant to him so that they can fully encircle AltPorter.

He can feel the tension in the air. Things are not going to go easily tonight.

"I will go whe-" Porter only takes a step or two before stopping. He turns, looking to Griffin, then the arriving Cryostatic, then Para. His smile turns uneven, amused. "You really are so much like her. Very well. In the interests of peace and friendship, I will return home." A brow arches over his sunglass. "I don't suppose any of you have the means to do that?"

"Uhhhh... Why do I feel like I'm the phase-sequencing bridge between two high tension wires?"

Cryostatic looks back and forth. His expression, however minimalist with that scarf and mask, grows more befuddled by the moment as Porter offers to go home. And then asks for an Uber to get him back to his dimension of origin.

Glancing off toward Griffin, Cryostatic arches his eyebrow again. It's one of those, 'This is weird, right? It's not just me, this is WEIRD, right?' expressions.

Para is quite pleasantly surprised that this Porter is willing to cooperate. By her expression, she may not have expected that, but she seems pleased. Until he asks her how to get home. "You...um. The same way you came here?" she proposes, her eyes drifting to his waistband as she checks for a doohickey. Of course, Porter got that doohickey by chance. And it getting soaked by coffee-infused nanites (or is that nanite-infused coffee?) was another rare and extraordinary chance. So of course, it shouldn't be a surprise if those very particular and spectacularly odd events never occured for this Porter.

Griffin did not expect it to go that easily... he looks to Para, then to Cryostatic uncertainly. He most certainly has no idea how to get him home.

He returns Cryostatic's look. This is weird. It is not just him.

"Well ... we'll find some way to get you back. We just appreciate you returning to your home dimension." Griffin says, putting his hands in the air to show he has no intent to harm Porter.

Stupid must be getting around today.

"Ah... So no immediate way to help me there? Well, I guess I'll just have to figure it out. Shouldn't take too long, no?" He smiles. "Especially with the resources of an entire world at my disposal."

The words pop out of Cryostatic's mouth before he realizes that he's speaking. He really can't control it some - more like MOST - times, the words just spill out when he's not looking. If he could control himself, he would, but he can't, so he won't.

"Well really all we'd need to do is isolate the specific frequency of your P-brane vibrations AND the quantum subharmonic fluctuation that is causing you to remain in phase with the local dimensional fabric. After that, we could probably use a polycyclic phase discriminator and a quantum resonator to eliminate the fluctuation in you, which should phase you back through the P-brane and into your correct dimensional phase-state."

Cryostatic resists the urge to push his domino mask up the bridge of his nose. He hasn't had to wear glasses since the accident that gave him super-powers, but old habits die hard. Shifting his weight uneasily in that Speedster-at-a-Standstill sort of way, Cryostatic looks around at the other metahumans on the street with an inquisitive expression written across what little is visible of his face.

You are all sudden aware of some shade overhead that wasn't there before. Nice, cooling shade in the heat. Downtown has so many old, historic brick buildings. Some that aren't so old, or were refurbished and updated, are really just brick facades.

Which can sometimes separate from the structure... but usualy only in pieces. Here, ALL of the ties seem to fail in a cascading sequential 'unzipping.' The entire face teeters over to dop on everyone like... well, several tons of bricks.

Except for Porter, who conveniently stands where an empty window opening lands.

There are only a few pedestrians on the walk at the time. A woman with a stroller who might have stopped to mom-chat with Para had she arrived moments past is ... just short of the collapse. A man spoiling himself with an ice cream cone is not so lucky.

Cryostatic is still honestly trying to make sense of what's going on here when he realizes the world is becoming darker by the millisecond. Looking up and back, Cryostatic's domino masked eyes widen in horror as he sees the tidal wave of bricks coming for him and the others. He blitzes into motion, surging forward on a wave of ice as his feet fleetly fly for freedom.

Somewhere in the middle, Cryostatic notices Bob enjoying an ice cream cone on his day off. Rolling his eyes, Cryostatic plants his leading foot on the rolling runway of ice under him and skids as he twists to intercept. A wave of shaved ice and snow flies up, creating a small pile along the curb line before Cryostatic lurches toward his new forward with a crackle of electricity in his wake.

At the last second, Cryostatic wraps his arms around Bob and drops backward into a baseball slide as the duo are engulfed in nimbus of electricity. Somehow, Cryostatic slides to safety with Bob in his arms as the enormous brick facade thunders into the street behind them both.

Bob is rescued. Alas, his scoop of ice cream falls from his cone to splat on the ground. RIP Fudge Ripple.

"Uh. Sorry about the ice cream," offers Cryostatic.

He's not really sure how he's supposed to tell Bob to get up off of him though. This feels ever so slightly too much like trying to kick a one night stand out of bed for Cryostatic's comfort and he rubs the back of his head with one gloved hand as he peers up at the startled and confused Bob.

Porter now turns to the fossil. "So, you wanted to catch me? Feel free! But how do you catch what you can't see?"

A window planter full of azalea's mysteriously held despite the facade around it collapsing. Now it breaks loose to fall towards Griffin.

Griffin only narrowly dodges the planter as it sails past him. He darts to

the side deftly, but his eyes never leave NegaPorter.

Brick after brick rains down on Para, bouncing off her head and shoulders a few at a time. And then all at once as a big, several ton chunk crashes down and breaks upon her as she keeps her eyes locked with Porter. She sees the speedster, able to move much faster than her, save the civilian.

Dust slowly drifts down from her body as she just gives Porter a disappointed look. She hasn't budged and doesn't even look scratched. "You are not very nice," she states placidly.

These are fighting words for Para. You do not want to hear her saying something like that to you, ever. "I gave you a chance to go home peacefully. Now I have to stop you. And if it's within my power, liberate the people you conquered."

She starts to stride towards Porter, bricks tumbling away and out of her path as if they were made of foam. Her right hand closes into a fist. But then, she extends her index and middle finger, pressed together to a point before she jabs towards Porter's throat. She misses.

"I'll, uh... Well. My condolences for the loss of your ice cream cone, sir?"

Bob, the civilian that Cryostatic rescued from falling facade-based fatality seconds ago, starts to panic as his brain and senses catch up with his body. Cryostatic takes the opportunity to squirm and flex and abruptly zip out from under Bob. Springing to his feet, Cryostatic peers over at The Diabolical Mr. Porter and a plan rapidly forms in Cryostatic's head - as though a plan could form any other way in the Scarfed Speedster's noggin!

Electricity corruscates over Cryostatic's body as he charges himself up, forming a rippling nimbus of blue, white, and yellow arcs. Cryostatic surges forward a moment or so later, that rippling electrical nimbus subtly changing the hue of his own body as he starts seeming less and less solid. Abruptly, a /PAIR/ of Cryostatics surge apart, sprinting around the area as they each level a palm toward Porter.

The stink of ozone fills the air a moment before bolts of lightning erupt from the Split Speedsters' hands to connect - hopefully - in Porter's face with a blinding flash of light and a crippling pulse of power.

Portennants seems to have not expected this, or not expected enough. While he's not knocked anywhere (suprisingly, if he's anything like every other Porter), the flash does seem to occupy him for a moment. "Ahhh! How rude. You should wait your turn..."

Griffin moves like a predator as he watches Cryostatic's thunderstike. The hair on his arms stands on end in the aftermath.

He charges NegaPorter and dips low at the last moment- hoping to catch him off guard. Griffin's leg lashes out at Porter's legs as he attempts to sweep him off his feet.

"Bro," snaps a Cryostatic, "We're a busy metahuman here. Places to go, babes to scope, vils to incarcerate."

The other Cryostatic abruptly chimes in, "Face it, brah. You're stuck in first gear. We live in fifth gear," from a different direction entirely.

"Waiting just isn't in our nature, Bro Hampton, especially for would be civilization conquerors like you," adds a passing Cryostatic. Who knows which Cryostatic it is? Neither the artist nor the writer knows.

Porter is thumps, flashed, and then has his legs swept out from under him. Somehow, in a display of fortune far more graceful than blind luck, he does a full tucked backflip in the air and lands back on his feet. With his eyes still sparkling. As if that wasn't odd enough, he flails a quick hand out to snatch at Para's wrist that still isn't all that far from him.

Wait? Could he possibly think he could overpower her? Even the craziest Porter would know he couldn't manhandle Paragon...

Clasp her wrist he does, followed by a smile as his other hand goes to her hip. "It's too bad you're so stubborn..." He then pivots in ... no, it's to fast for a waltz. Maybe too graceful to be a tango. Something in between?

Despite being several inches shorter, he does a strong job of taking the lead in a very rapid, whirling dance, despite the less than cooperative partner. "We could have done so much together. Tell me, does Omega Zero Pi Sigma One Three even mean anything to you anymore?" he asks, rather softly, towards her ear.

One more spin, while it seems that the gentle phrase means something to someone. Or something. Like hard-coded overrides. Inertial navigation firmware and hardware gyros accept the signal and reinitialize. While she's in motion. That's a breach of protocol!

Not to mention really, really confusing to things trying to zero themselves.

A final triple twirl of her beneath their lifted arms and he releases her back in her previous spot, having moved a meter or three from his original. He bows, sweeping his arm under his chest. Just in time for his hand to catch a floating rose now descending from ruined planters above.

Para has never really danced before. Which makes her resisting even more natural an effort. She's clumsy by comparison to the unexpectedly graceful Porter, and the only way to describe her expression is awestruck.

"I would never agree to work with you to oppress--" she begins to retort. As he gently, almost tenderly speaks those codes, her eyes widen slightly, her words dying off. She looks as if she's been struck. Her pupils dialate, then narrow to pinpoints as her voice says rather mechanically, "Voice command accepted."

After he twirls and releases her, her legs buckle and she takes an awkward step or two before she drops onto her right hip, hands planting on the ground as she lands with her head dropped down. She certainly looks like she just swooned and swayed there.

"What did you do, take Fred Astaire's Quickening, Brolander?"

Cryostatic actually slows almost to a halt as Porter dances with another Porter's Para. Both Cryostatics look gobsmacked by the display of blind agility and finesse. Lines of electricity begin to stretch out between the Cryostatic Twins like thin threads binding them to one another as they grind toward a halt.

The threads of electricity increase in number and force as both Cryostatics finally come to a halt. Anyone watching might get the impression that some kind of fluid action is going on between and around the two of them as they start to coalesce into a single Cryostatic with both of his hands held out toward the hopefully still blind Porter. With a sharp, clear CRACK - as though a tree branch just shattered under the weight of ice in the dead of winter - a pulse of deadly cold surges toward Porter from Cryostatic's outstretched hands.

Portennant gasps as the blast of super-chill air hits him. "Ah!" A breath later comes, "Brisk! Thank you for the cooldown, but I haven't even worked up a sweat, yet."

Cryo did get NegaPorter's attention, even if the last didn't have the effect

desired. "I said that I'm a gracious Emperor, and I meant it. You were nice enough

to cool me down... maybe you could do something for them, too?" He gestures Cryo's

attention to the others....

Griffin gasps as he watches NegaPorter literally quip his way through shrugging

off two people that he would likely have some serious difficulty even holding his

own against. He swallows hard as NegaPorter continues claiming benevolent

rulership over mankind.

Its that thought that spurs the super-soldier into action. He wont stand by while

anyone is enslaved much less a whole world. And when its his world? Well- that's

not an option.

"There's no strings on me twinkle-toes." He says as he closes in on NegaPorter,

balling up his right hand and throwing a hook at Porter.

"Good luck trying that codeword bull s*** on me." Griffin adds as his punch lands.

That stings. More than stings. Porter catches the hook right across the jaw. While

there's no crack of bone, the *BIFF* sound is reassuring. Also, in a more expected

Porterific fashion, Porter goes flying...

Griffin grits his teeth and eyes Porter cautiously, but it seems he doesn't have anything to share with the class... just yet.

Para is still trying to reinitialize her motor controls. But the system that generates the electrical signals to make her undead flesh move voluntarily is still booting. That just leaves her own poor, undead reflexes, which cause her legs to slowly twist and push ineffectively. The only thing keeping her sitting upright is her two arms bracing against the concrete.

"How...how did you learn my access codes?" she murmurs in disbelief, still staring down at the concrete. "I never told anyone my codes. Anyone except..."

Her fiance.

The thought strikes her and she suddenly looks up at this Porter with just shock on her face. The dance, the codes, the comments of what they could've done together. "What...what did you -do-?" she asks accusingly. She already actually knows. But the way she says it, it's understood that the question she's really asking is how could he.

Cryostatic blinks at The Debonnaire Mr. Porter's suggestion. He shakes his head once or twice, domino mask threatening to rattle loose. One of Cryostatic's hands comes up to clutch the side of his head for an instant before he turns to face Griffin and Para. Readers can see the expression of compassionate concern showing through Cryostatic's scarf and domino mask as he regards the other, markedly sweatier heroes.

"Huh. I wonder..."

Lifting both hands, Cryostatic focuses his will upon the air between himself and Griffin. Immediately there is a positively Antarctic chill sweeping outward as Cryostatic wrenches the warmth from everything in the path between his up raised palms and Griffin. No doubt it would do Griffin's body well to vacate that general area in the next, oh, instant.

Griffin's eyes are completely locked on NegaPorter, and not Cryostatic- a relatively new local hero, but one he's learned he can trust. Though after today- perhaps he will be a bit more mindful of where he places his trust. Lightning's trusting nature is obviously rubbing off and making him soft.

So naturally Griffin isn't even trying to move out of the way, as the frost takes hold of him. Speaking of ol Jack Frost- looks like Griffin's shoulder, back and even neck have recently been visted, repeatedly by the figure.

Griffin luckily doesn't even so much as shiver from the mal-posed attack. But he feels it- he doesn't turn around, expecting some onslaught to follow & ravage NegaPorter.

Porter claps... but it carries less applaud than a golf clap. "Well... it's a start.... and how did I know the codes, 'Sweetie...?'" No, he doesn't put up air quotes. He's a better Porter than that. "It's simple, really. I wanted to know it, so I did. Like the ice cream, there."

Multiple ice creams, really. Bob's. Kyssie's. Not to mention the damp soil from the planter box.

All of it gets picked up and blown towards Griffin by Cryo's blast of sub-zero air.

While the cold air, itself, doesn't bother Griffin, it does turn the mud-pie the blows across his ankles into a giant brown ...something-cicle. Kyssie's accident wasn't in that area, one hopes.

Para feels something she didn't think she could feel about Porter as he calls her sweetie. Disgust. Only HER Porter can call her that. "You are not to call me Sweetie," she warns. While her legs still refuse to work properly, she still tries to make them move. And fails. In frustration, she slams her hands so hard on the ground that it causes a shockwave of force to roll outwards.

Portennant is knocked off his feet and carried aloft by the shockwave... only to lose his momentum and regain his feet by a doubleFLASHTHWUMP back to his starting spot. That did sting, though. His suit is ripped. And his tie is... askew.

Griffin 's legs are frozen and congealed together. He flexes instinctively and tries to rip himself free- but he's stuck tight. Superstrength be damned.

He grits his teeth, and fights the urge to cut his eyes at Cryostatic for whatever it is he did to get him in this predicament.

Instead- he cuts them at NegaPorter!

Cryostatic hears a peal of thunder to his left. His head turns toward Para as the shockwave sends the pavement rolling toward him. The speed of it is too much for Cryostatic's muzzy brain though.

Before Cryostatic can do more than think to think to act, the pavement is upon him. He's spun wildly about and thrown off of his feet and into the middle of traffic. Fortunately, metahuman battles tend to slow traffic to a crawl, so Cryostatic isn't immediately run over as he sticks the landing... In the worst possible way.

What looked to have been an attempt at rolling with the ballistic trajectory and momentum goes horribly wrong as Cryostatic lands shoulder and cheek first - thank god for ballistic spandex, am I right?! - and skids across several meters of asphalt. Cryostatic comes to a halt with his boots on either side of his skull and his butt up in the air. It looks painful.

The Eyes have it! Portennant may have gotten a little ahead of himself. People don't need their feet to stare at people... and Griffin starts pretty hard. Portennant flies several meters, this time, reeling, before he's FT'd back to standing. Even if there's no statisfying impact, skid, and slide (like Cryostatic's), the fact that his jacket and shirt are incinerated and his skin scorched offers some strong signs of progress.

Para watches Cryostatic get knocked away from her slam. But Griffin seems fine, and Porter actually seemed to feel it. "Someone like you will never be allowed to harm the citizens of this world," she says as she raises her hands up and slams them down on on the concrete again with a thunderous WHAM!

"You tell 'em sister!" Griffin says approvingly- that is until the shockwave rattles him. But it just seems to shake him a bit- he's no worse for wear.

Portennant's reaction to the shockwave is to sigh. Which is a sign that he doesn't seem overly distrubed by it. "Yes, yes. We've had this conversation before, Paragon..." Though not disturbed, he does takes several steps away from her, moving several meters. Not especially disturbed is not the same as stupid.

He then turns to eye daggers at Griffin. "You!... on the other hand, have become quite the annoyance. Do you have any idea how much this suit cost?!" Accentuating his !, he kicks at the ground. It's more than a phantom punt or venting rage, as it sends a brick flying for Griffin.

Cryostatic groans in pain, his vision swimming from his impact with the street. He takes a few seconds to let his vision clear before he wiggles. Shimmying his hips and legs, Cryostatic gradually manages to get his feet solidly planted on either side of his noggin without also standing on his scarf.

A second later, Cryostatic fluidly swings himself upright, his asphalt-stained scarf fluttering in the breeze of the high speed motion. Cryostatic reaches up to grip his jaw and skull, quickly twisting his head one way and then the other to clear the kinks from his spine, eyes rolling and lolling about chaotically under his domino mask's yellow lenses. With a final groan of agony/relief, Cryostatic turns toward Para this time.

She can practically picture the friendly smile under his thickly bound ballistic scarf. Cryostatic lifts his hands placatingly toward Para as he chipperly intones, "Babe, you are just too smokin' hot right now. I gotta ask you to chillax a little bit before you burn yourself out."

Portennant may now be shirtless (and, yes, of course he has abs and a fit chest), and was brickblocked by Griffin, but he still has reason to be rather confident.

Para is weak in the knees. Cryo is catching his breath. Griffin is still wearing the frozen cement galoshes.

He brushes flecks of ashed clothing from his chest. "Well, thank you for the entertainment, but I think I've-"

He's cut off by a FLASHTHWUMP. Immediately in front of him.

"Sorry, guys, I didn't know that would take so ...uh... everything Ok?"

Porter is holding Kyssie in one arm after somehow talking her out of the carrier. He gets two stepds towards Para before he realizes she's on the ground. And all the bricks. And it's awful quiet for a busy afternoon.

Para's eyes grow wide and helpless as her Porter appears in front of the other Porter. And Kyssie. But...but she warned him! Maybe now that he's in close proximity, he can read her signal loud and clear as it fills with panic and fear for their safety.

"Sweetie!" she cries out, her legs twitching uselessly. Maybe her systems crashed during the reboot. She tries to crawl her way closer. "Get Kyssie away from here, now!" she pleads, her eyes drifting from her Porter to Definitely-Too-Ripped-To-Be-Her Porter.

Griffin double-takes. Or is it Double-Porters. Well this at least confirms it was a different Porter. But of course that's the only thing it answers. 'It certainly doesn't explain how we're gonna get NegaPorter back to his s***y dimension.' he thinks to himself.

He whips his head back towards Cryo, concerned for the young hero- but there's little time for that. Not with the Pink Princess so close- Griffin won't stand by while a child is in danger.

Action is the time.

There's no time for words.

Griffin's eyes glow brightly for a second before a pulse of energy erupts from them. Aiming straight for NegaPorter!

Time for words? Of course there is. At least for Porter. And time for blinking. "What?" He starts to turn back behind him at picking up Para's frantic worry. Her yelling at him helps, too. Then there are eye-lasers heading in his general direction from nowhere-Oh! It's goofy uncle Griffin. Less goofy.

That makes Porter turn faster, to try and put Kyssie away from eye beams. Even if they aren't coming at her. This completes him turning 180 to face...

Porter. The shirtless, absed, formerly-suited, Emperorish, and solar system-ruling one.

"You!" Of course Portennant recognizes himself. Or, rather, a potential, alternate, and obviously terribly inferior version. That's all the word he spares, though, with Griffin Eyebeams of Eyenstant Eyencineration headed his way.

But he doesn't need words. Like Griffin, he believes in action. His action?

He ducks.

The beams zap past, refact off of a patch of super-cold, pur ice (see, Cryo! You did cool things down!)

Then they ricochet off of a window across the street, and head straight for the shirted Porter. And company.

This provokes a battlecry that sounds very, very similar to a high-pitched squeal (maybe Kyssie will let him blame it on her later?) and Porter ducks.

The beams deflect off of another patch of ice, upwards to be receivedm, refocused, and projected from a microwave transmission tower, and back down towards shirtless Porter...

...who ducks...

Yeah, this could take a second.

Griffin's eyes dart along the same path as the beam- clenching his jaw so hard as the beam darts towards Kyssie and Good Poppa Porter.

This of course passes and his jaw loosens a bit as the beam arcs towards NegaPorter again. But then he ducks...'Sonofa...' Griffin thinks.

Para's blood would run cold if it weren't already that temperature. This is exactly what she had not wanted. Her warning to her Porter must not have gotten through. <> her minds transmits with utmost urgency as her body fails to complete its reboot initializing of motor controls. She's helpless and unable to protect her family. -Again-.

But she still attempts to wriggle and squirm towards her family to try.

"Huh?"

Cryostatic's head pops up somewhere in the middle of the screaming and shouting. He looks absolutely befuddled by the multiple Porters and the EYEBEAMS ricocheting wildly around the area. Tipping his head to one side, his eyes are visibly widened under his domino mask and his mouth is clearly agog, judging by the silhouette coming through his scarf.

"What the what?!"

The beams continue to reflect, refract, ricochet, ripple, and radiate. They even diverge and take separate paths... so that people can blink, scream, duck or jump twice as much!

< I'm trying!> Porter is. Luckily, no one's been hit yet. Unluckily, Porter's 'moving' is more ducking, fllinching, and covering Kyssie than really moving anywhere.

Portennant just laughs...

... and, yet,... are those beads fof sweat on his brow?

It's a good thing things can't get worse.

Until they do. The path of the beams gets shorter and short, as if their loops are collapsing in on themselves. The air between the Porters heats up and begins to glow from all the EYEBEAMS.

Faster and faster. Laugher and laughier. Flinchier and flinchier.

Then comes a single, clear, and firm sound.

"NO!"

The brightening glow suddenly spikes to a momentarily blinding FLASH, immediately followed by a resounding, bone-vibrating THWUMP.

When the flash fades, there is only a single Porter standing. Contorted mid-flinch, arms wraped protectively around his chest. From between his arms is a third. Jutting out straight, towards where the other was standing, hand open and palm out for talking to.

After a moment, the hand moves, and there's a clear, less firm, and less stern sound. "Bye!" Fingers waggle.

Cryostatic pops to his feet in a shower of electrical sparks. He points directly at Kysmette, looking wildly around at the others. Is anyone else seeing this? Did anyone else hear that? Why is the baby the only person here who isn't sweltering in the summer heat and/or the heat of battle?!

Poor Cryostatic, he's the only one that isn't aware that none of these questions - and more! - will be answered in the issue to come.

Still positively agog, Cryostatic starts pointing and waving his hands around. WHERE DID PORTENNANT GO?! Did anyone else just see that? Can Cryostatic come up with a better question than 'What the what?!' before the end of the issue?

"What. The. What?!"

Well I'll be damned, one of those questions got answered. It's a pretty hard 'NOPE!', I think you'll agree.

The disappearance of NegaPorter inspires a smile from Griffin, and a look of absolute relief.

He goes to move, and forgets he's be cemented in place.

His eyes glow as he prepares to blast himself free (so he can apologize in person)- but first, he steals a glance at Porter and Kysmette and a moment later the glow recedes.

Instead he decides to struggle against the icy molding with his slightly super strength.

Para is still tense, but ultimately relieved as the other Porter suddenly disappears. She squirms and tries to crawl to her sweetie and sweetest (That's Porter and Kysmette, respectively) with little progress. And then, shortly after that utterly vile Porter disappears, her systems reboot properly and her motor skills come back online.

Still having to perform stability tests, she carefully pushes herself up to her feet. When everything seems to be functioning at optimum levels again, she rushes over to her family and wraps her arms around Porter and Kysmette to create an extra layer of protection while snuggling.

"Are you two alright...?" she asks softly. She's used to living with Porter long enough that she doesn't even need to ask why. Because Porter.

Both Griffin and Para don't seem to react to the happenings as Cryostatic was expecting. His hands come up to clutch the sides of his head as he tries to process what he just witnessed. It probably helps to utterly shatter the veneer that The Diabolical Mr. Porter placed across his mind.

"Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! Did you guys not see that? That was insane? THAT WAS OUTRAGEOUS! TRULY, TRULY OUTRAGEOUS!"

Practically dropping into a squat before bouncing back up to a fully upright and standing position, Cryostatic thrusts his hands out at the Porters as he tries to explain his point. The point that REALITY IS NUTS around Porter.

Or maybe that Kysmette is the most powerful metahuman of all time.

Porter and Para probably react like parents... who already know that reality is very optional around Porter. And that Kyssie is the most awesomest person of all time.

She may also be the most powerful metahuman of all time. Portennant held off three mighty heroes, and Kysmette just shut that s*** down before anyone could blink. She was having none of that world conqueror crap on her watch.

Para is of course unaware of the might and power of her precious little pink princess and just tries to cuddle both of her family members safely. "I'm glad you're alright. I tried warning you not to come...but we really needed your help, to be honest." She seems to be talking to Porter, but maybe Kyssie knows better about who those words are really for.

Griffin lets out a grunt that borders on a roar as he strains with the effort and his icy prison cracks and then shatters falling at his feet. "That..." He says, breathing sharply, "was crazy..." He looks towards the happy and reunited family and smiles. "but it was worth it."

He turns towards Cryo and adds, "Totally worth it."

He pats the younger hero on the back happily. "You're new around here kid, but things are just weird- especially when that one's around." He points his thumb at porter and laughs. He thinks to himself, 'Another Conquerer shut down. We just saved the world. What a feeling!' He too is blissfully unaware of the Pink One's great power... and likely Greater Destiny.

"I'm glad you're Ok," Porter finally gives Para a squeeze back. Then looks at everybody else, too. "All of you. But... what the heck happened?! We weren't gone THAT long..."

"You were gone long enough," Para murmurs as she finally stops holding the pair so tightly. She pulls back enough to smile down at Kysmette. "And I know a very good girl who deserves more ice cream if she wants."

Looking over to Griffin and Cryostatic, she says with deep gratitude and concern, "Thank you for helping protect the city. Are you two alright?" Her head pans to Cryostatic. "I believe I have not met you before. I haven't been too involved in the protection of this city for a while, but I'm happy to see more heroes answering the call."

For someone who just had several tons of bricks dropped on her, she seems completely fine. Just covered in cement dust and a few tears in her white summer dress. And one of the straps on her sandals has torn loose.

The pat on the back and the "pep talk" Griffin gives to Cryostatic has the same general effect as popping Daffy Duck's ego. Cryostatic's out thrust arms go limp and he sags forward a little bit, crestfallen that the abject ridiculousness of what just happened is utterly lost on the other heroes.

. o O ( I hope I never end up that jaded and unimpressible. A /BABY/ just shut down World Conqueror von DarkClone! )

Recollecting himself, Cryostatic straightens up and folds his arms across his chest. Concealing his disappointed pout under his ballistic scarf, Cryostatic shrugs at Porter's question. Glancing off to one side as the wind catches and whips the ends of his scarf about, Cryostatic attempts to create an eloquent executive summary.

"Bro. BRO! Almost as soon as you disappeared, another you APPEARED, but he was totes suited up! That joker was totes rude and disrespectful to your girl though, bro, but Griffin and I, uh, had your girl's back. Then, out of nowhere, he starts talking about owning this Earth too... Because he's, like, totes in charge of the whole Solar System in his home dimension and now that he's here, he may as well own this one too. So we start laying the smack /DOWN/ on his punk butt, but I, uh, guess I got distracted trying to cool everyone off?"

Porter stares at Cryostatic's summary in disbelief. "Another me? Owning the earth? In charge of the whole solar system?" Even he knows that's got to be bad news, but he can't really seem to comprehend the idea. "That can't...--wait. What did he say to Para?"

Para gives Porter a one-armed hug, snugging him and Kyssie close. "It doesn't matter, Sweetie. I'm just glad you are who you are," she says without further detail of explanation to the clueless Porter, just before she plants a kiss on his cheek and rendering him speechless.