Comfort and Joy

The house was modest, small but neat, covered in white siding offset by black shutters and fronted by a wooden porch that had been regularly re-painted white as well. The porch columns were wrapped in green spruce garlands and twinkling lights, and a wreath hung on the front door. Two silvery wireframe angel heralds stood in the front yard, on either side of the slate walkway leading to the porch steps.

The car that pulled to the curb in front of the house was also small but slightly less modest, a high-end coupe the deep dark red of black cherries. Both car doors opened, and a titian-haired woman rose from the driver’s seat while a 7’2” bald goliath unfolded out the passenger side. “Guuhhhh-huh!” Lester Ample grunted in relief as he extravagantly stretched and uncramped his sizable limbs.

“Sorry about the lack of legroom, big guy,” Noreen O’Malley sympathized to her companion. “And headroom. And shoulderroom and hiproom. I love my car but I never realized just what a selfish kind of love it was.”

“Nah, it’s all right,” Les answered. “I still appreciate you giving me a lift. I owe you one.”

Noreen had popped the trunk and drew a shopping bag from the interior, while leaving in place a large black duffel bag containing her hi-tech rapier and Privateer costume. “I don’t think people owe people for nice things done on Christmas Eve,” she countered. “And I’m not even sure carpooling counts as doing something that nice.”

“It counts,” Les assured her. “And Santa’s watching even now.”

“Shall we head inside?” Noreen asked as she slammed the trunk closed.

“Suppose so,” Les nodded, scratching his brown goatee thoughtfully. “Say, did Delaina ever mention to you if her family, you know … knows who we are?”

“No,” Noreen answered as the pair made their way up the slate path. “But they must, right? Why would they welcome a bunch of strangers into their home for the holiday if Delaina didn’t explain how she knew us?”

The man known in his superheroic guise as More shrugged. “Maybe Delaina lied to them.”

By then they had climbed the porch steps and knocked on the front door, which opened scant seconds later to reveal a woman with an unmistakable familial resemblance to their teammate Sojourn, differing noticeably only in her extremely short-cropped hair and the two additional decades of experience hinted at in fine lines around her eyes and lips.

“You must be Noreen,” the woman smiled, accompanied by a one-armed gesture with her free hand that invited Noreen both across the threshold and into a friendly half-embrace. “I’m Shondra Teague. And this can only be Les, am I right? Come in, come in!”

Les ducked under the top of the doorframe and entered the living room of the house, where several more people were standing expectantly in front of sofas and chairs. “Let me introduce everybody right quick,” Shondra said as she helped Noreen and Les out of their coats. “This is my brother Delvin, his wife Yvette, and their boys Byron, Travis and Nelson.” Each person waved or nodded as they were named. Delvin was somewhat heavyset and balding on top, and Yvette was slightly heavier still with an extravagant upswept hairdo. Byron and Travis were teenagers, nearly as tall as their parents but still youthfully thin, and Nelson was eight years old. “My mother’s back in the kitchen with Delaina,” Shondra finished.

“Well, this is bound for the kitchen,” Noreen said, holding the shopping bag a little higher. Turning to Les she asked, “Should we take it back and say hello to Delaina?”

Les looked toward the opening in the far wall which adjoined the living room to the dining room. The dining room table was set for fifteen and had been elongated with all of its leaves and a not quite level card table, leaving very little navigable room for accessing the kitchen beyond. Les shook his head and said, “You go ahead, I think I’m good out here.”

Noreen took his point and headed for the kitchen. Delaina stood at the sink washing vegetables while her grandmother, white-haired and nearly a foot shorter than Delaina, stirred a pot on the stove. The two Teague women were back-to-back with only a few inches of space between them, but each moved with a relaxed surety that indicated their comfort with the small working space and with each other.

“Hey, we’re here, Les and me,” Noreen announced herself.

“Oh, hi,” Delaina said, looking up. She grabbed a towel to dry her hands and said, “Grandma Millie, this is Noreen.”

Millicent Teague raised her eyebrows expectantly at Noreen’s shopping bag. “That my lagniappe in there?”

“Yes’m,” Noreen confirmed. “And also some veal grillades.”

“Oh, I ain’t had grillades in years,” Millicent said. “But we used to have that for Réveillon, Christmas morning.”

“I know, Delaina told me,” Noreen agreed. “That’s what it’s for. My mom always taught me when someone invited you over for dinner you should bring something for the meal, and something else for the host to enjoy after you leave.”

Millicent nodded her head. “Ain’t you sweet. And your momma sounds like good people.”

Delaina took the shopping bag and unpacked it on the counter next to the stove, leaving the lagniappe next to her grandmother and putting the grillades in the refrigerator. “Grandma Millie told me once you all started arriving I had to be sociable. I think she really just wants the kitchen all to herself,” Delaina confided to Noreen in a stage whisper.

“Oh you mind your manners, girl,” Millicent reproached affectionately.

Delaina and Noreen backed out to the living room, where Les had seated himself on the floor and was allowing his crossed legs to form a wide denim canyon, his knees promontories on which Nelson Teague was arranging factions of action figures modeled after the Gray Ghost’s allies and enemies. The rest of the Teague family was sitting comfortably around the room, with the exception of Shondra perched lightly on the arm of a sofa, ready to answer the next knock on the door.

She did not wait long, and was soon opening the Teague home to Ed Baird and his wife Katarina. Katarina entered first, at six feet tall almost the same height as her husband, her long blond hair pulled back and a covered cake plate held out like an offering in front of her. Shondra ran through introductions once again while conveying the Bûche de Noël to the dining room table and collecting coats.

“Dinner smells delicious,” Ed noted appreciatively. Unlike his alter-ego Karnival’s feral skull-grin, Ed’s smile was a warm mixture of amusement and shyness.

“It ain’t nothin’ fancy!” Millicent called out from the kitchen. “But I been makin’ it so many years, I should have it figured out long by now!”

Another knock brought Shondra back to the doorstep, to find Jack Fenris and Rob McDowell standing on the front porch. Over casual clothes, Jack wore the same jangling leather biker jacket he carried into the field as Valence; Rob was dressed in immaculately pleated chinos and a sweater which he was likely wearing in some irony, underscored by the contrast between the jaunty snowman knitted into its design and Rob’s Ember persona. “I give up on keeping everyone’s names straight, you all are gonna have to introduce yourselves,” Shondra announced. Jack and Rob acquiesced readily enough, working their way around the living room in greeting. Yvette and Katarina removed themselves to two of the chairs in the dining room; Byron and Travis asked if they could go down to the park at the end of the street to play basketball and were told to be back in half an hour for dinner.

Rob came to a stop in a corner of the living room where an old stereo rested in a rolling cabinet. The turntable was spinning an LP and the crackly but lush sounds of the Crystals singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” emanated from the speakers. “Oh, wow,” Rob marveled, staring at the record’s label as it revolved, “is this an original pressing of A Christmas Gift for You?”

Delvin Teague sidled up to him. “That’s right. Delaina told me you were a vinyl collector yourself.”

“Something like that, but I’ve never dropped the cash on a collectible like this,” Rob said.

“Me neither,” Delvin admitted. “Record’s just been in the family since, oh, I was Nelson’s age or so,” he gestured toward his son.

Jack squatted down beside Nelson, who had continued uninterrupted in staging a mountain showdown of action figures on Les’s huge kneecaps. “Hey, buddy,” Jack said. “You know I’m a big Gray Ghost fan, too. Can I play?”

“You can be the bad guys!” Nelson agreed. Jack reached for one of the figures, a woman in a brown flightsuit with sky-blue goggles, but Nelson snatched the toy away, saying, “No, Roxy’s a good guy!”

“She is?” Jack asked, genuinely taken aback. He picked up another one of the toys, this one an androgynous robot covered in the green and gold patterns of a circuit board. “Oh, these are the movie versions from the reboot last summer,” Jack realized. “I couldn’t even bring myself to go see it when this is how they redesigned classics like the Electronic Man. I didn’t know Roxy Rocket was a good guy in the reboot.”

“Only at the end,” Les clarified. “She was always kind of could-go-either-way, though, wasn’t she?”

“I guess,” Jack conceded. Then, brandishing the Electronic Man action figure, he growled, “But for betraying the Secret Chamber, Roxy Rocket’s going to get lit up! BZZTT! BZZTT!” Nelson giggled and reoriented the Roxy Rocket and Gray Ghost action figures to return imaginary fire.

“No dates for you and Jack, huh?” Ed asked Rob, as the two presently found themselves seated next to each other on the sofa.

“Apparently, Nancine was doing her own thing with her family,” Rob answered. “Me, I’m not anywhere near wanting to send the holiday togetherness special someone vibe to anyone right now. If ever.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Ed suggested.

“Don’t get me wrong, what you and Katarina have is cool,” Rob responded. He seemed on the verge of adding more, but only trailed off into silence. A few seconds later he stood up decisively and announced, “I brought wine for dinner but Jack brought some whiskey, and I think it’s about time for a cocktail. You?”

“Sure,” Ed agreed, sending Rob in search of glassware and ice. He returned a few minutes later with a whiskey on the rocks in each hand. “You know that if there’s no mixer in it, it’s not technically a cocktail, right?” Ed asked as he accepted his drink.

“Details,” Rob blew the observation off as he clinked glasses.

A knock at the door summoned Shondra through the throng of Teagues and their guests, to admit through the front door a man wearing a dark peacoat over baggy earth-toned clothes which could not completely hide his well-developed physique. The man’s hair was black and short, seemingly little more than a few days’ worth of stubble. Two scars stood out prominently on his face, one running from his forehead to the inside corner of one of his blue eyes and down the side of his nose, the other extending straight out from the opposite corner of his mouth.

“Hey! It’s …” Les began happily, then trailed off in uncertainty.

“Pierce,” the man supplied, unfazed.

“Yeah, Pierce,” Jack nodded. “Long time, no see, man.”

Pierce mingled into the living room crowd and the pre-dinner pleasantries continued uninterrupted. Noreen spoke to Shondra and Delvin at length about their respective least favorite New Orleans tourist traps, until Noreen noticed Rob letting himself out of the Teague house. She excused herself and followed him onto the front porch. Rob had positioned himself half-sitting and half-leaning against the westerly railing of the porch, and was watching the sun set in the December evening sky.

“Fresh air break?” Noreen asked as she approached him. “Or alone time?”

“Just fresh air,” Rob confirmed.

“Cool,” she nodded. “So … had any of you guys seen Pierce without his helmet on before?”

He chuckled. “A while ago, but even then he was doing the deep cover thing, wig and heavy makeup and whatnot.”

“No wig tonight,” she observed. “Think the scars are fake?”

“I really don’t,” he stated. “I went right up and got a good look at them, and put that together with what little I know about his past … I think they’re real. I mean, that’s what tonight’s supposed to be about, right? Getting real with each other?”

“In theory,” she conceded. “Do you think it’s working? Or is going to work?”

“Well where I come from, something is working if it moves things forward at all,” he answered. “Maybe you can’t manufacture trust, definitely you can’t manufacture it overnight. Even for Christmas. But we’re all here, aren’t we? We’re spending time out of costume, as people, getting to know each other. It’s a start, it’s something at least.”

“Uh-huh,” Noreen agreed. She leaned against the column at the front corner of the porch; he sat with his back against the siding of the house. They shared a companionable silence until she said, “So speaking of getting real with each other, can I ask you something?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Why don’t you ever hit on me?” she inquired.

“Excuse me?” Rob gaped, turning to fully face her for the first time.

“I thought that was your default setting, to hit on everything that moves,” she explained. “And just to be perfectly clear, this is not me hitting on you. I don’t think this team needs that kind of drama and I’m positive I personally don’t, and it’s not about my ego like you now have to explain why I’m not good enough for you or whatever. But if there is some underlying thing that could cause even more drama down the road … don’t we owe it ourselves to air it out?”

Rob looked off toward the horizon again. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you personally,” he insisted.

Noreen considered for a moment. “I guess I have to take your word for it.”

“It’s the truth,” he countered. “It’s all just … timing, I guess.”

“Hey, like I said, I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a symptom of some deep problem you had with me, something we need to fix,” she said. “As long as that’s not the case, then if it’s none of my business it’s none of my …”

“No, no,” Rob interrupted. “Look, when we all met you … remember? There was all that craziness going down?”

“I remember.”

“Of course you do, that’s why you came looking for us, because a good chunk of crazy was rolling towards your family,” he recollected. “Well another part of the crazy was … a girl. A girl I felt a connection with, and I don’t know if that was real or another part of the crazy, and I haven’t seen her since then or been able to find her to try to sort all that out. Point being, right when I met you, I wasn’t exactly in my usual default mode. And since then …”

“When you think about me I remind you of that other girl?” Noreen asked.

“Maybe,” Rob said. “But mostly … I don’t know, there’s this window, I think. If I meet someone and they’re my type … and before you say it, yes, that covers a lot of ground … then there’s a good chance I’ll hit on them right away and then see where the chips fall. Whether or not anything comes of it, the hitting-on just becomes a part of the foundation of whatever comes next. You and I happened to meet when I wasn’t disposed to hit on anybody, so I didn’t hit on you. So what came after that didn’t end up having that as a foundation element, which is rare for me, but there it is.”

“And what did come after that?” she pressed.

He looked at her again. “Friends?” he ventured with a cocky grin.

Noreen smiled back, but before she could speak a loud rumbling echoed down the street. A large sleek black vehicle rolled to a halt in front of the Teague house, resembling a delivery truck from some near-future in its monochrome streamlining. Travis and Byron came running behind the black truck and stopped in their grandmother’s front yard to stare at the unfamiliar vehicle.

Two men stepped out of the truck’s cab, each wearing black jumpsuits with red insignia on the breasts and shoulders. “Teague residence?” the driver asked, looking back and forth between the brothers on the grass and the man and woman on the front porch.

“It is,” Noreen answered somewhat skeptically.

“Who’re you?” Travis asked, rolling his basketball from one hand to the other.

“Delivery service,” the driver answered curtly, as he and his counterpart moved to the back of the truck and rolled up its gate. Each man pulled a matte black trunk out of the cargo area and carried it up the front walk to deposit it on the front porch, then returned to the truck. The remaining Teagues and guests inside the house emerged through the front door as the third and fourth black metal crates were laid on the porch. The two uniformed deliverymen climbed through the doors of the cab once again.

“Hey, do we need to sign something?” Delaina Teague called out after them.

“All taken care of,” the driver waved her off. The engine of the futuristic-seeming truck had never stopped running, and now powered the delivery vehicle rapidly down the street and out of sight.

“Should we … open them?” Les asked.

“Only way to find out what’s in ‘em,” Delvin Teague pointed out. “What else would we do with boxes delivered to our house?”

Delaina looked searchingly at Jack, who conveyed with a steady nod that he was ready to magnetically repel shrapnel or otherwise shield her family and teammates if necessary. Delaina unlatched the first of the crates and tilted its lid back on hinges. Immediately a white smoke began to pour out of the open box, only to settle placidly along the boards of the porch as the contents came into view.

“It’s food packed in dry ice,” Delaina announced. The other three crates were opened in turn, two of them lined with warming filaments and stocked with dishes of food and the other cooled in the same manner as the first but containing chilled bottles of champagne, as well as a glossy red and gold card which Delaina retrieved. “My friends,” she read from the card’s interior, “please accept these humble contributions to your table of celebration and enjoy many holiday blessings. I look forward to the prosperity of our alliance in the new year. J.”

“J? Janissary?” Ed surmised.

“Friend of yours?” Shondra asked.

“Y-yes,” Ed confirmed with some hesitation. He turned to Millicent. “But I swear we had no idea he was going to try to cater Christmas Eve for us, certainly not to try to replace all the work you put into tonight. I don’t think we can accept this.”

Millicent scowled and shook her head, but the expression was exaggerated for effect. “I may be a proud old lady but I ain’t so high on myself to think nobody ought to get me gifts for Christmas,” she announced. “I aim to put the dinner I made on the table tonight, but I can’t see no reason not to put some of this out right beside it.”

“Are you sure, Mrs. Teague?” Jack asked.

The little old woman smiled at him. “You call me Grandma Millie, and I’m sure. I already knowed I made too much food and planned to take some leftovers to the church tonight. Now it looks like I’ll be taking them even more … soon as we all try some of this ourselves and make sure it’s suitable, that is,” she cackled. “Now let’s get all this inside.”

Everyone reached into the crates and drew out dishes or bottles to carry into the house. Les stacked the four empty containers and toted them around to the back of the house, then rejoined his teammates and the Teagues as they began to gather around the dining room table. Millicent’s pork roast, new potatoes and succotash were arrayed on flower-patterned china, surrounded by silver platters heaped with oysters, stuffed mushrooms, beef croquettes, pasta with shaved truffles, and numerous other delicacies.

Noreen, sitting next to Rob, leaned slightly toward him and whispered, “I still don’t know about this Janissary guy.”

“Why, because he seems too good to be true?” Rob rejoined.

“Hey, if you’re gonna have a patron it might as well be one who spares no expense,” Noreen conceded. “But how did he know we were all going to be here tonight? That’s not too good to be true, that’s downright stalker creepy.”

“He moves in mysterious ways,” Rob shrugged.

“That is not reassuring.”

“Maybe not,” Rob admitted. “Janissary might come on strong and intrusive but he’s never steered us wrong. And it’s Christmas Eve, and we’re going to enjoy his generosity, right?”

Noreen sighed but said nothing further. Wine and champagne were poured out all around; Janissary had even seen fit to include a sparkling non-alcoholic plum cider for the younger family members. Delaina raised her glass and cleared her throat with the ceremony of someone about to act out a family tradition. “Then let us be merry and taste the good cheer, and remember old Christmas comes but once a year,” she said.

“A pocket full of money and a cellar full of beer!” Jack added mischievously as glasses were clinked around the table.

“Now let’s dig in,” Shondra advocated.

“Just one thing first,” Millicent held up her hand. She looked to Pierce and said, “I don’t think you need to keep looking out the windows any more.”

“Pardon?” Pierce asked.

“You think I don’t see you peeking outside every other minute, like you expecting uninvited guests?” Millicent challenged the onetime Checkmate Knight. “You sit down in my house, I want you to enjoy the meal and the company. Stop worrying that the Super-Assassins or the Brotherhood of Evil is gonna knock on the door to pick a fight with Bad Blood on Christmas Eve.”

Ed, Jack, Les, Rob and Noreen all froze with forks, spoons or glasses halfway to their mouths, while the Teague family continued eating unfazed. Delaina rolled her eyes and said, “Grandma, Pierce always being on guard is something that just happens to keep us all alive, you know.”

“Maybe so,” Millicent nodded. “Ain’t much for table manners, though.”

“So … you know who we are,” Pierce finally responded to the matriarch.

“Course I do,” Millicent confirmed.

“And you’re all right with what your granddaughter does … with us,” Pierce continued.

“Everybody in this family got gifts,” Millicent answered. “Maybe just a little second sight here, a way with charms there. Delaina more than most, true, but everybody in this family knows they got gifts so that they could help people. Long as she’s doing that, I’m proud of her. Proud of you all, too. Lotta people in New Orleans gonna see another year, might not have if it hadn’t been for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Delaina interjected, “I thought you guys understood that my family, they’re too big a part of my life to keep in the dark. That’s just the way it’s always been my whole life.”

“That’s a good thing,” Ed observed. “I guess we’re all one big family now.”

“Does that mean I can ask a favor?” Byron ventured.

“Sure,” Rob agreed.

“Can you give my number to Lightning, from Infinity Inc., the next time you see them?” the boy asked hopefully.

“Only if I’m not too busy getting her number for myself, little man,” Rob grinned. As a chorus of laughter and groans rose around the table, Rob winked at Noreen. She shook her head but smiled. The Christmas Eve dinner continued uneventfully but happily, with goodwill overflowing, late into the evening.

END

MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD ...

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NEXT ISSUE: A new year ... and new problems! Some things never change!