THE STARS ARE ALIGNING! BOWLING, PIZZA, MUSIC FOR ALL! WHAT A SNAZZY DEAL! A NEW SUPER-GROUP IS FORMED!

Bartholomew wasn’t entirely sure he was doing this right. After all, he wasn’t fully adjusted to this new age and it’s customs, and even less understanding of how modern “super-pals and friends” were formed. Back in his day, a giant monster would show up or a local business would be robbed, you’d meet some other “hero” who came to the scene, and bang bada boom, you’d have a new ally on your side. Who knows if that’s how it worked these days. This new era that he found himself seem much more…bleak. Fractured by various events that seemed to make the relationships of the meta-human and non-powered communities, Bartholomew wasn’t sure if society was still open to the idea of “super-groups”. Hell, it’d have been a completely and literal different time when he was in such a team, and even then he wasn’t the one responsible for starting it. He had joined well into the original team’s life. Still, with all he had seen in the last month, it was clear that this was a world that needed heroes. It needed hope. So if Bartholomew was going to fill his role of GrandMister and fix the world, he felt that once again he’d need help from some of those “super-pals and friends”.

He had spent all of his money setting up tonight’s sign-up event. He had rented out the diggest place that he could remember for everyone to gather, what was in his time a lively bowling alley full of games and soul that ran in Queens, New York when he was a teen. Although now it was rather run-down and seemed a bit abandoned by the current owners, it was the only place Bartholomew had been to since returning that still had a disco ball, so he was pretty sure he made the right move in choosing it. Waltzing into the store around six at night while carrying a box full of pizzas, the owner’s shoved their way out for the night, placing the store key on top of the pile of boxes while muttering something about “lock it up before leaving” and “darned super-folk and meta-freaks” before leaving. Placing the boxes of pizza on a table near the front entrance, right alongside some bedazzled sheets of paper with the words “JOIN THE MOVEMENT, SIGN UP!” plastered over it in plastic crystals, Bartholomew doubled check to make sure the place was ready for the grand occasion. The sheets of construction paper taped together that he had spent the whole previous night on were properly hung up above the entrance, with the the simple phrase “TIME TO SHINE BRIGHT, BECOME A JUSTSTAR!!!” drawn in pink sparkle marker on them. The bowling alley continued to run behind him, as he had fully paid for a free game night for anyone that came to the event, the sounds of pins being set-up in the three barely functioning alleys of the store almost matching up with Kool and The Gang song that he had set up. And, of course, the disco ball had been set so that it shined across the entire store. Even Bartholomew himself was a bit more fancy then usual, dressed in a white business suit with rainbow colored zig zags designs covering it to the point where it’d be a pain for the normal eye to try to follow them.

Yes, everything seemed to be falling into place. Even the event itself was well-advertised, or at least he thought so. Placed all over the planet were handcrafted paper slip and poster advertisements, thanks to him spending a week beforehand traveling around the globe just so he could potentially get any super-talent that was interested. He had even gone as far to buy out time slots through various television networks, and even went as far as to use his powers when he could to board cast the ad through radio when possible (editing it as needed for an audio format). The commercial itself showed Bartholomew in his GrandMister from dancing to some music on a disco floor he created in public with his power-set, and as he danced around with the citizens around him he sang (rather poorly) “Do you want to make the world a more funky fresh and safe place for everyone? Don’t you wish life was just a party for everyone, instead of this drab and boring world we live in? The world needs heroes, it needs people to get down with helping one another once again, and band together and make things better. So come on down to BALLASTIX BOWLING in Queens, New York on the date shown below me!" At this point, he used his power of making music notes and manipulated them in such a way that they’d appear as numbers, before he blew a kiss to the camera soon followed by a gust of glitter that covered the screen as the ad ended. Truly, it was his magnum opus, and a stand-out art piece in all forms of commercial craftsmanship.

Taking a seat at the table in front of the store, Bartholomew took a piece of pizza, as he did a little dance in his seat to the music. This was going to be the start of something big, he could feel it. He could feel the stars aligning, and shining down with justice on this store today. This wasn’t going to be the return of the era of heroes of his time, or like the other group of heroes formed since his disappearance. No, this was going to be the start of a new era of heroes. And he liked the sound of that idea, along with the music playing, quite a bit.

The paper said “JOIN THE MOVEMENT, SIGN UP!”. Phaser has seen the commercials. Frankly they have become quite a meme on the internet. Many people are watching and commenting on this weird music person with weird funky music who asks people to join him in Queens. Many also commented on the special effects that the person made with the music notes. As with everything, there will always be some who love or hate something. Some who praises or mocks it. Others are just being trolls.

Phaser, on the other hand, loves the weirdness and any call of heroes is something worth checking out. Holding the paper and his phone for direction. His walking eventually led him to his destination, BALLASTIX BOWLING in Queens. Phaser look at the place and the look left to right. "This is the place." He said.

Having had his phasing mode the entire time, Phaser enters the bowling hall without using the main entrance.

Phasing through the walls, the moment he entered the hall there was loud funky music playing. The music certainly sets the mood. He wondered if the person who called them here was actually there.

Power for this thread:

Gene had decided to check out this meeting of the powers known as the "JuStarz". The posters and... frankly strange commercials had peeked his interest, as did the internet memes that were posted from said commercials. He pulled up to the bowling alley and sighed as he checked his watch; only to realize he was entirely powerless for once.

Lovely, just lovely. Signup might be a pain.

He opened the door only to be greeted by the loud music and strange theme. Disco? A bit outdated. In fact, it was outdated before he was even born. 'Whatever,' he supposed. 'If an eccentric superhero chose to decorate their meeting so... Gaudily... Then it should be no problem for him.' Gene said.

He noticed a person walking through the wall and looking around themselves. Great, he was probably going to be the only one who couldn't display his powers until midnight.

It was a truth universally acknowledged that any invitation to superhumans was either a trap or foolish optimism, and any heroes who showed up of their own accord were idiots. Katrina was not here of her own accord; the Silver Hand, with as many metahumans that reside within it’s numbers, had a vested interest in ensuring groups like this were on the up-and-up, and thus they sent Katrina. Among the Silver Hand, her infiltration and information gathering skills were unmatched, and with her own classification as a metahuman … well, she shared the Silver Hands interest. She certainly didn’t want her own kind to be persecuted, though she certainly felt no kinship with these heroes; they were fools, she believed, for following misguided ideals. Society was broken, and only by using it’s shattered remains could truly make a name for themselves.

Still … it couldn’t hurt to see what the strangely dressed man on the television had to say. His message, while vague, certainly had the world talking, and if there was one thing Katrina liked in someone, it was a flair for the dramatic; an odd trait to be shared in an assassin, to be certain, but color Katrina impressed. It was for that reason she was out in her full armor, only bright blue eyes shining through the darkness. She approved of his spot, as well; it provided plenty of opportunity for her to get close to the building and observe. So far, she had spotted no exterior defenses, no laser grids, and no backup; the one police officer lurking too close for comfort was currently taking a nap inside his squad car … and his badge and gun looted, just in case.

Still, despite all these precautions, an escape route planned - out the back door, up the side of the building, into the 24/7 minimart, and out the door again - she hesitated. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, other than the fact that she, as her ‘heroine’ self, never felt comfortable under the scrutiny of other heroes. Part of it was her appearance and height, or lack thereof, but they also tended to reveal a long suppressed part of herself she thought was buried underneath countless assassinations and almost a decade of training, a part of her that threatened to overwhelm the normally stoic assassin with guilt over her terrible actions over the last nine years. The way they looked at her, with eyes judging her for what she has had to do … it didn’t bode well, for either her or the hero. Still, this is one of those of instances where she didn’t have much of a choice. It was ordered by none other than her Aunt, and she couldn’t disobey a direct order from a Justicar of the Silver Hand.

She didn’t have to like it.

Silent as a shadow, she crept across the roof of the adjacent buildings, the only evidence she was there being a slight golden haze that quickly dissipated into the air. She wasn’t angling towards either door; rather, towards the large windows set into the wall. If this was a trap - while she had no evidence to the contrary, she was a suspicious person by nature - there was no reason to give her would-be attackers any advantage. The window was locked, as was to be expected, but it was a simple catch lock; obviously no one expected someone to climb thirty feet straight up to rob a defunct bowling alley. A quick jimmying with the lock and the window swung forward. She moved slowly, so as to avoid the ancient hinges from protesting loudly, and slid down the wall. She had chosen well; the window opened directly into the cashiers box, the shadows cast by the stacks of the shoes making the light uncertain, making it far easier to remain unnoticed. That’s not say she was perfectly hidden; anybody with sharp eyes could see through the shadows and spot the pretty, short girl.

But she didn’t give them much of a chance; as soon as her feet were solidly on the floor, she strode into the light, her gold rings disintegrating from her body silently and instantly. Her eyes roamed the residents in the room currently; two she had seen enter, and the third … well, she had seen him a while ago, on a commercial advertising for this very place. He is the organizer. The other two, while certainly of interest, did not hold her attention as this man did. Everything from his the red motorcycle helmet to the matching shirt and pants screamed “showman”, and the little dance he unconsciously does made Katrina smile unintentionally. She liked him immediately.

”You are the one who called us here?”

The voice was quiet, but cut through the music with practiced ease. She stared with both amusement and slight incredulity at their erstwhile host. She was willing to wait and see what happened, though if anything were to happen … well, the blades hanging at her hip were sharp and easily drawn. Hopefully, she’d have no reason to.

Darren Cross also known as the Swordsmaster, among other things, could be anywhere in the world and just about any given time. No, it wasn’t because he could teleport although he thought that sounded pretty cool for a second or two. Being able to instantaneously move yourself from one location to the next would definitely be useful. If you weren’t already the fastest person on the planet. Well that and Darren loved running, the feeling he got when the wind was whipping past him or when his body finally caught up to his mind and the entire world seemed to be either moving in slow motion or stuck in place like statues. It was disconcerting at first seeing everything else in the world seemingly stopped to a halt or snail’s pace while he himself was moving around as if it were normal. But he enjoyed it. It was the only time where he could think, where his thoughts actually slowed down enough that he could concentrate and to him it was almost magical.

That was what he was doing now actually. Running. He wasn’t entirely sure how fast he was going, no one did. It isn’t like there weren’t things that could clock his speed, it was just that nobody did and if they did they didn’t tell him. Point is as far as he was aware he didn’t have a top speed, he could just go and go. Miles would pass by, entire cities and forests sometimes even oceans gone in a blur of color as the hobo kid with a sword continued forward. It was a strange lifestyle for anyone let alone a seventeen-year-old orphan but Darren loved his ‘Nomadic lifestyle’, as coined by his best friend John, it let him see the world. Go places no one else could, do things that the rest of the world couldn’t and at the same time it let him save more lives than he ever could have sticking around in one city (as if his brain would let him stay in one place that long).

Like all speedsters though Darren got hungry very quickly, and could eat more in one sitting that most people ate all day. Usually he would take food from hot dog vendors or other similar easily accessible food places that he happened to cross on his run. Today was not one of those days however. He didn’t know where he was and hadn’t eaten in anything in about an hour. His stomach was growling he was sweating, and feeling a little exhausted. He had been running for a while and if he didn’t eat soon he knew it wouldn’t be good. Thankfully as he ran by some old building with neon lights advertising something or another he smelt it. That sweet cheesy goodness. Pizza. Every teenage boys’ weakness. Or one of them at least.

Turning on his heels not missing a step the boy blunder made his way into Balastix Bowling, scooping of two boxes of pizzas as he went by off the table conveniently placed near the entrance. It would have made things so much easier to grab and go, no one would have even noticed he had been there other than maybe a breeze of wind. However, as he turned to leave he noticed the people in the building that as he took it in he realized was an old-fashioned bowling alley. Still moving at hypersonic speeds Darren popped off the top of the first box of pizza and made his way around the room looking at each person statue. The first individual to take his notice was the older individual in a jacket and beanie who was shorter than Darren (score!), quickly getting bored with him he moved on to the guy halfway in the room and halfway in the wall.

Making his way over to them he observed them for a couple of seconds, Darren time, fascinated by the orange glowy mask and the Tron like suit before getting distracted by the other two people. Finishing the first pizza he tossed the box in the air, forgetting when he slowed down and everything went back to normal it would probably go flying, and made his way to the final two people. The first was a female, the only one here, and a very attractive one too. Probably too old for Darren anyway, and its not like it mattered anyway he was no good with girls. So, the final person caught his attention and it slowly started to click. This totally had to be a super hero team meet up thing! Coming to a complete stop Darren took a bite out of his last piece of pizza as everyone sped back up and wind rushed past Darren in the direction he had been moving, anything not too heavy and not nailed down going with it. “Woa. Is this some sort of super hero meeting? Are you guys going to be like the Talons? I used to be on the Talons. Can I join your group?” Asked the underage, shirtless, Australian eating a slice of pizza with a raggedy blue book bag on his back with a sword hilt hanging out of it.

Vincent walked into the bowling alley with some of his friends.  He was totally unaware of the fact that there was a huge gathering of superheroes in the venue.  After buying shoes he put his headphones in and began listening to some random music.

Jitterbug [4X]

As he heard the singer repeat the word Jitterbug four times in succession he got the strange feeling that he had heard this song before.  He couldn't remember the snapping from before, but he shook it off as him having bad memory.

You put the boom-boom into my heart
You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts
Jitterbug into my brain
Goes a bang-bang-bang 'til my feet do the same
But something's bugging you
Something ain't right
My best friend told me what you did last night
Left mesleepin' in my bed
I was dreaming, but I should have been with you instead.

As these lyrics played Vincent's random assorted friends all took turns bowling.  They were seemed to be rather bad at bowling.  For the most part they scored sixes, sevens, eights, and the occasional strike.  For some reason they could never score 9s.  Only Vincent seemed to notice this.  Briefly Vincent considered pointing it out, but then deciding against it realizing that his friends would just call him a retard.

Wake me up before you go-go
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high
Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Take me dancing tonight
I wanna hit that high (yeah, yeah)

Soon after these lyrics finished up it was Vincent's turn to bowl.  He slowly walked over to the balls and picked up the heaviest one he could find.  At first he picked it up with his right hand, then he switched to his left because he is left handed.  Then he slowly walked to the lane and then threw the ball down the lane.  Unfortunately for him he threw it slightly too hard to the left and it just went into the gutter.

"..."  Vincent stood there silently in shame.  What kind of retard got a gutter ball?  He didn't have much time to mope around sadly because his friends already started to make fun of him.

"Vincent you suck!"  One of his friends shouted out.

"Fuck you!  I still have one more try!"  Conveniently as he finished up his sentence his ball came out of the ball dispenser.  He walked over to it and picked up the ball with a new found determination.  There was no way he was going to completely miss the pins again. Copying what he learned from Wii bowling Vincent let the ball fly again. This time the ball didn't go towards the gutter... at least at first. As it approached the pins the ball slowly started drifting to the right.

"Oh God no!" He thought to himself. But luckily for him the ball didn't fall into the gutter in time and it clipped one of the pins in the very back.

Though he didn't show it all Vincent wanted nothing more than to just pop off right now and start screaming about how great he is. However he couldn't do something like that. He knew that if he were to do that everyone would think he's stupid. He only knocked over one pin. Why was he so happy? Deciding to contain his emotions he just walked over to his seat happy and still completely unaware of the superhero gathering that is going on.

Meta Gene wrote:

Power for this thread:

Gene had decided to check out this meeting of the powers known as the "JuStarz". The posters and... frankly strange commercials had peeked his interest, as did the internet memes that were posted from said commercials. He pulled up to the bowling alley and sighed as he checked his watch; only to realize he was entirely powerless for once.

Lovely, just lovely. Signup might be a pain.

He opened the door only to be greeted by the loud music and strange theme. Disco? A bit outdated. In fact, it was outdated before he was even born. 'Whatever,' he supposed. 'If an eccentric superhero chose to decorate their meeting so... Gaudily... Then it should be no problem for him.' Gene said.

He noticed a person walking through the wall and looking around themselves. Great, he was probably going to be the only one who couldn't display his powers until midnight.

Timothy had just finished watching the latest episode of a mediocre crime show currently running through it's third season.  He reached for the remote so he could turn the screen off but paused when the first add started playing afterwards.  The add showed some man dressed in what looked like a bright red motorcycle helmet and white jacket singing and dancing about a super-hero meeting.  Timothy turned of the television shaking his head.

What and idiot, the man who posted the add was clearly an amateur super hero.  The add, aside from being extremely tacky clearly broadcasted where the meeting would be held.  This was practically baiting super-villians and militiant anti-super forces to swarm the meeting grounds.  And now i'm a hypocrite Timothy realized that he was most definitely an amateur super hero and an idiot.  Besides maybe the person who put up the add knew something Timothy didn't.  Whatever there's no way i'm making it to New York  Timothy concluded his train of thought as he finished brushing his teeth and lay down to go to sleep for the night.


In spite of the resolution he had reached only three days ago he found himself on a train heading to Queens, New York so he could hunt down some bowling alley where other heroes where supposedly gathering.  As Timothy leaned back in his hard train seat he looked around the train.  He wondered if anyone else taking this ride was secretly at superhero too.  Timothy himself was wearing a boring grey T-shirt and black athletic pants, nothing to give away his secret identity.  


The First thing Timothy noticed as he walked through the door was the scent of pizza.  It had been awhile since he had last eaten and his stomach growled.  The Pizza boxes where blown forwards as a shirtless Australian boy almost materialized before Timothy.  Tim lunged forwards grabbing one of the pizza boxes before the rest could scatter across the ground.  Based on the aforementioned speedster and the person phasing in therough a wall Timothy could at least tell he was in the right place.

Flipping the top of the pizza box open, Timothy produced a slice of pepperoni pizza from within it.  He took a large bit from the tip of the slice as he walked further into the bowling alley  Timothy noticed a man over a foot shorter than him also within the building.  Timothy walked over to the short blonde clearing his throat to grab the other man's attention.

"How's it going.  My names Timothy, or i guess Dragon Kid here."  Timothy held his hand out for the dwarf to shake.  Giving the other man an oppurtunity to introduce himself.

Adam's mechanical wings hummed powerfully on either side of him as they accelerated him near Mach 2. A solid mass of white pressed against muted orange glow of his display as he descended through the cloud layer. He was well into New York and would be reaching New York City in 4 minutes at his current speed. There was the small matter of slipping through airport radar coverage, but the trick was to decelerate and descend as you approached the area; make sure you don't look like anything more than a news helicopter to any radar.

Adam sighed, the influx of air seemingly inviting nerves to worm their way through his abdomen. What was he getting himself into? He ordered a diagnostic of the suit just in case. Why was the cloud cover so thick today? He steepened his dive to keep his armor from getting soaked in the clouds for too long. Why did he agree to this?

This gathering of heroes will leave you exposed. If you're going, go to kill the competition.

That voice was crazy, but actually made sense from time to time. An advertised meeting of heroes was inviting anyone with enemies to come assault the establishment. But hopefully the intriguing amount of might under one roof would be enough to deter any potential attackers. I mean, that was the point of super groups anyway: to deter smaller criminals from even trying to commit crime...it just so happened to also lead to supervillians seeing this formation of heroes as act of escalation. Adam pinned down his writing paranoia. If he didn't trust anybody, he'd never make it in this world; he's just a guy in a suit of armor, he doesn't possess the powers of these god-like beings.

Four minutes later, the iconic New York City skyline dissolved into Adam's view. He knew the majestic image veiled a much more complex and, many times, dangerous interior with millions of factors affecting the outcome of your day. You can have a perfectly pleasant day exploring the sights or you can be drawn into a superhuman brawl encompassing several city blocks. Thus was the nature of NYC. Adam angled into a controlled dive and pulled even with the New York skyline.

Adam figured it was better to remain at this elevation until he got to his destination. The metal, winged exoskeleton he wore was highlighted with slate grey and black, a color scheme that made most people uneasy. After maneuvering through the maze of New York City, Adam spotted the bowling alley below. Most of its walls had been claimed by graffiti while any stretch of wall that remained untouched by spray paint was defaced even worse by peeling paint and dark blotches of dried gum.

Not the most impressive...

Adam pulled up, the thrusters in his wings flaring white to stop his forward momentum. His paranoia almost kept him from descending. But he summoned his bravery and began to lower himself to the street below.

I'll just keep the armor on. Whatever happens, I can handle it.

You can't handle shit.

With a slight whine, Adam's wings folded several times and tucked just behind his back like a large, grey backpack. He pushed through the front door into the meeting room, thankful for the extra height his armor gave him. 6'1 was better than 5'9.

Walking around, Fricton decided that he needed a break to refresh himself. So naturally the cafe seemed like the place to go. Doing his best to look inconspicuous he sat down and ordered a chai latte. Bored he started to watch the television when the ad break started.

Do you want to make the world a more funky fresh and safe place for everyone? Don’t you wish life was just a party for everyone, instead of this drab and boring world we live in? The world needs heroes, it needs people to get down with helping one another once again, and band together and make things better. So come on down to BALLASTIX BOWLING in Queens, New York on the date shown below me!

"Jeez, that's lame." Fricton thought. "But it might be worth a few laughs. I mean a sparkly glitter singing dude and whatever other lame-ohs he's gathered up having a meeting to make things better and help each other once again."

Finishing his chai latte, he murmurs, "I'll go... but this better not be some lame-ass idea of a prank..."

Putting down the cup, he walks out, completely disregarding the angry attendant yelling at him to pay.

Hours went by as Bartholomew sat by himself and listened to his tunes. His musical moments of uncontainable joy slowly switched into that of nervous energy, almost to the point where it appeared he'd burst at the seams. Was this all a waste of time? Was there no interest in the super-teams of old? The people of this new area did seem to have lesser morales and ethics then those of his past, or at least be more honest with how corruptible they were. Maybe he was doing the wrong thing. Besides, there was no way whoever he gathered, whoever came, could be molded into a team like the previous JustStarz. It took a real leader, a real role model, to mold that team into what it was. And that leader was now dead, or erased from the time stream, or his memory altered, or something among those lines. Cosmic retcons were something that Bartholomew still couldn't wrap his head around after all his years of "heroing". The point was that he wasn't that person, and the more he was left alone the more the doubt began to gnaw at his core. It was possible the star of justice had died out long ago.

By the time an hour had passed, all that had entered were some teens who hadn't be notified that it was time to leave and had somehow escape Bartholomew's attention during his self-anayalzing pondering. He kicked them all out, yelling at them various disco-themed lyrical threats, and they left in a state of worriment and confusion. One of the kids was taking especially long to get himself out of there, but Bartholomew just sat back down, and started to doodle a logo for the team in glitter-marker.

It was around this time a man phased through a wall and into the room, dished out in some high-end techno gear that if he hadn't been fighting costumed crazies for years, Bartholomew would think only existed in the sci-fi magazines of his home era of the 70's (not even movie props could replicate his outfit then). A young man who appeared homeless thanks to his attire also walked in, looking upset and bewildered, only to be joined by a gorgeous figure from the shadows. Her voice pierced through the loud volume of the music, and asked Bartholomew if this was the right place.

"It sure is, you rockin' babeilicou-"

He was cut off by a shirtless man who ran in and took a box of the pizza, because that's how things worked in this super-powered world, asking if this was the right place and if he could join the team. Trying to figure out everything that was going on, while also once again switching modes into "overly excited ball of energy" mode, a woman fitting the "wise native american" trope came up and asked if he was a hero of honest intent while expressing her own experience in their field of work. She was probably the only one in the room with the same amount of experience in that regard as he did, at least as far as he could tell from appearances.  Two more figures entered, and it finally became clear that Bartholomew hadn't made a mistake. This was the start of something. Something bigger, more choatic, and more out of hand then he expected.

And he liked every bit of it.

Checking the room, Bartholomew also noticed the kid in the back hadn't left yet. Letting out a grunt, he put two hands over his mouth and said "Dude, sorry, but this is a meta-meeting. We're all getting "STRIKE-OUTS" of villainy today. If you're not here to get super, probably best you leave".  He then turned back to the audience, giving a smile that shined as brightly as a disco ball.

"Yes, don't fret you groovy newcomers! This is the place!" Without any notice, Bartholomew jumped into the air, and right before hitting the ceiling landed onto the table all while posing with a hand on his side and one pointing to his audience. "Not only the place of free pizza and t-shirts and more...but the place to form a team! One designed to combat the evil that surrounds us, that seemingly continually exists and never ceases! I am admittedly a bit overwhelmed with our turn-out, but if anything, it gives me hope... He gave out a chuckle, before returning back to his theatric form. "...hope that maybe we can truly be able to bring some good to this crazy new world."

Adjusting to be sitting on the table with his legs hanging off, Bartholomew grabbed himself a pizza, taking a bite while he stalled to figure out what to say next. He was used to only giving these type of speeches to citizens, not fellow meta-humans. It then hit him, what made the old JustStarz work so well was that they weren't just a randomly formed group, but that they were a community, almost a family. If he wanted this group to stand out and work, he'd have to start building roots for that concept.

"So before questioning and explaining, I say we all introduce ourselves. I mean, I doubt anyone would be here if they weren't interested in the team even a bit. So let's share our names, super or real or whatever, I don't care. I don't know how secret identities work these days, if those really stayed in favor. So let's do names and powers.

He took another bite, before giving another reassuring smile.

"So whose first?"

Not long after he phased through the wall, many people of special character arrived to the scene. Phaser could only look at them with marvel and wonder. One who especially caught his attention was this super fast guy. He have never seen a person who can move this fast. It must certainly be a powerful ability. The more people arrived and showed their powers, the more Phaser felt sure that he made the right choice to come here. Perhaps joining this group would indeed be an exciting thing.

When the one who called them here urged them to introduced themselves, Phase eagerly jumped forward. "Me! Me! I would like to be first!" He said excitingly while displaying a (^^) on his helmet.

"The name is Phaser! Phasing powers and awesome sword fighting style." He pulled out his sword and does some special sword swinging, trying to impress the people in the room.

]"I'm Medicine Woman.  I'm experienced in archery,
tomahawk and  knife use.  I'm familiar with and have successfully used medicinal herbs, flowers, and plants.  I know enough about nature to tell the difference  between and positively identify edible and toxic natural/organic comestibles.  My race can sometimes be scouts, trackers or both."

She had to think about her whether or not to reveal the only extraordinary ability she had.  She decided it was OK to tell the as-yet-un-named fellow (Bartholomew) about it.  Her voice was humble, though:

"I can also attract animals, except prehistoric ones, with a kind of 'memory scent.'  Basically, that means an animal might help  because he/she might recognize my late great-grandmother's scent on me.  She was a shamaness who 'knew' every animal's spirit.  I'm her direct descendant, so I inherited that talent. Generally, most animals know a scent  instead of one's face."  That's all she was willing to mention.  If the guy (Bartholomew) or anyone else wanted more detailed information...well...she'd try to give an answer.

The room had quickly filled with people, and Gene was quite blatantly surprised by the turnout. It would seem that this was not going to turn out to be such a disaster after all. "Hello, Timothy. My name is Gene. It is quite nice to meet you." He said extending a hand to shake. He didn't know why; but he rather liked this one. It was perhaps a friendly young meta-human like this would be just what the world needed.

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After an hour of waiting, and drinking; Gene heard the man call upon the assembled Meta-Humans, and decided on his codename rather on the spot. Meta-Gene. He thought it was rather clever. He was probably among the more powerful meta-humans in this little group without his handicap, and the name seemed to fit him. A fun bit of wordplay if nothing else, though that may have been the alcohol talking a bit.

They were asked to stand and say their names, and abilities. The one who had entered through the wall, introduced themselves as Phaser.

He stood up on his chair, to ensure that the people could see him. "Hello everyone, my name is Meta-Gene. Please call me Gene. I have a multitude of powers, however there is a device that controls my abilities to stop my complete cellular degeneration. This device has forced my abilities to randomize on a daily basis. Currently, I am powerless... Here's hoping tomorrow I turn into a dragon, yes?" He said chuckling a bit at his own joke before sitting back down.

Coming out of the shadows, Fricton introduces himself.
I'm Fricton. As the name suggests I can manipulate friction. I'm also a genius, if I may say so myself. I keep to myself, so I don't even know why I'm here. Might be worth a few laughs"
While saying this Fricton tries to make himself look awesome by lighting up his hand, letting the eerie light move over his face.
"My friction abilities give me the ability to make fire, stop things midair, parkour like a boss and run superfast. So yeah, I'm pretty bad-ass."
Snuffing out the flames by closing his hand, he leans back on the couch, a satisfied grin on his face. He starts to look relaxed until he suddenly seizes up looking around with a grim look on his face.
"And you guys better not mess with me, or you're gonna get it."