Levi grabbed a big handful of the chicken bites before the man finished setting them out. Somewhat surprised, the server jerked back. His eyes flicked to Levi’s, and they widened for a moment before he quickly suppressed the emotion.

Noticing the flinch, Levi glanced up at his face. A tiny flash of recognition flashed across his face before he abruptly clasped a hand to his mouth. “Ow, ow, ow!”

The server startled. “Sir?”

“These chickie nuggies are way too hot! I’m going to sue!” Levi declared.

“Sir, I—”

“Take me into the kitchen, right now. I need to talk to the chef,” Levi demanded, jabbing his finger at the server.

Fira grabbed his arm. “Levi, don’t make a scene!” she hissed, unspeakably embarrassed.

Levi shrugged her off, approaching the server even as he backed away. “Take me to the chef. Right now!”

“I—we microwaved them, I don’t—”

“Levi!” Fira grabbed at him again. When he slipped away a second time, she glanced around. Eyes turned toward them all around the room, none of them friendly. She gritted her teeth, then backed away. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Leave me out of it.”

Grabbing the server by the arm, Levi led him toward the kitchen. Around the corner, his anger vanished. He looked up at the man and smiled. “What’re you doing here, Bubblegum Pink?”

“You recognized me?” the man asked, startled.

“Of course I did. You don’t really wear a mask,” Levi told him.

Bubblegum Pink rubbed his face. “Most people focus on the pink, and not my face.”

“Well, not all people. Hey! Don’t change the subject. What’re you doing here?”

Bubblegum Pink glanced around, then gestured Levi on into the kitchen. Other men and women in the same server’s uniform as him hurried around, piercing tomatoes and mozzarella balls on tiny bamboo skewers, dropping store-bought cream puffs into martini glasses, microwaving chicken nuggets. They glanced up at the newcomer, strange expressions flickering around the room. One subtly approached Levi from behind. Metal rasped as he picked up a knife.

“Oooh, are you going to make the chickie nuggies live, right here in front of me?” Levi asked, subtly shifting his stance and reaching toward the back of his jeans. “I know how to make chickie nuggies too, wanna find out?”

“Guys, guys. Arsenic, he’s cool. He’s one of us.” Bubblegum Pink lowered his voice, flicking his eyes across the room. He spoke the next line at a whisper: “A villain.”

At that, the whole room relaxed. The servers went back to skewering cherry tomatoes, and Arsenic set down his knife.

“You guys heisting, or something?” Levi asked, swinging his hands around to clap them in front of him.

“We aren’t here to steal something, no. We’re here to send a message,” Bubblegum Pink said firmly.

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Levi pursed his lips, tilting his head. He wobbled his hand in front of him.

“No?” Bubblegum Pink asked.

“I mean, it’s okay. Messages are okay. But like, the whole city just got ripped apart by the Apostles. What kind of message are you going to send by crashing the gala that destroying the city, take seven hundred and five, didn’t?”

A few of the villains in the room looked up. One lowered her bamboo skewer, the mozzarella ball only half-skewered.

“The people of the city aren’t safe. The heroes can’t save them,” Bubblegum Pink said firmly.

“Right. City’s destroyed. Message received. What else?”

“The heroes can’t even save their own home?”

“See item A, destroyed city where they all live. Got something else?”

“Alpha is—”

“We all know Alpha’s a shithead. We live here. Saying it doesn’t change anything except for putting a target on your forehead. So? What else you got?” Levi asked.

“The, uh, the…” Bubblegum Pink drooped.

The other villains in the room looked at him. One or two grimaced or looked at the floor.

Levi clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry! Levi’s here. And I’ve got a plan. A way to turn this message into action.”

“You did? Wait…you knew we were going to—”

Levi shook his head. “No, I had no idea. Personally, I came here to stir up shit, have a good time, maybe kick someone in the balls—look, the point is, when a master sculptor comes upon a lump of unshaped clay, what does he do?”

Bubblegum Pink squinted. “Make… a pot?”

“Probably not a pot, unless that unshaped clay was sitting on top of a pottery wheel already—not the point. The point is, you guys are a big old lump of clay, and I’m a master sculptor. Let me shape you. I can turn this piddling little message of yours into something the supers won’t forget for the next…” Levi grimaced. “At the pace of twenty-four-seven news these days? Let’s say fou…three days. But that’s three days more than the ten seconds you guys were about to accomplish. So what do you say?”

Behind him, Arsenic picked up the knife again, turning it left and right to catch the light. He pointed it at Levi. “Who is this guy?”

Levi turned and tutted. “It was a yes or no question. Returning a question with a question is poor etiquette.”

“Poor etiquette?” Arsenic chuckled under his breath. He tossed the knife in place, feeling its heft. “You’re the one who barged in here and—”

Levi’s hand flashed out. The knife in Arsenic’s hand burst from his grip and flew across the kitchen, embedding itself tip-first in the opposite wall. Fake-pouting, Levi shook his head at Arsenic and flipped his own knife mockingly at the man. “Aww, now only one of us can make fresh chickie nuggies.”

Arsenic’s face reddened. He lunged at Levi. “You—”

Bubblegum Pink’s hand shot out. Bright pink goo wrapped Arsenic’s mouth and stuck right in front of his feet, sticking them to the ground. “Calm down. He has more credit than the rest of us combined.”

“More kills?” a girl asked from the back, casually eating the tomatoes off a skewer.

Bubblegum Pink nodded firmly. “If what I saw was any indication? Yes.”

“What about antics? Heists and shit like that?” a man asked, jabbing a finger at Levi.

Levi shrugged at him. “Did you hear about the monster horde that whipped around and suddenly came at Central City instead of the suburbs? That was me. An attempted city demolition—raise your hand if you can claim that.”

Stillness. In the back of the room, one of the men went to raise his hand, then stopped, wobbling it at about the halfway point instead.

“Exactly. I’m your ticket to the big leagues, kiddos,” Levi announced.

“Why haven’t I heard of you, then?” skewer-girl asked.

Levi grinned. “If you heard of me, then I wouldn’t be doing a very good job, would I? What kind of villain prints his name all over everything? The best villains are the ones who work in the background, organizing, conniving, occasionally riding a herd of horses into the city. And that’s what you guys need. A mastermind.” Levi paused for effect. “Me.”

Bubblegum Pink turned to the room. “All in favor?” He raised his own hand.

Three-quarters of the room raised their hands. Still bound up in bubblegum, Arsenic glared impotently.

Bubblegum Pink turned to Levi. “Then please, maestro. Take the lead.”

“Maestro isn’t the term for a potter—not the point, Levi. Yes! Thank you! Now, listen. This is what we’re going to do…” Levi stepped forward, gesturing for everyone else to move in too.

The room drew closer, waiting with bated breath.

Into the silence, someone at the back of the room muttered, “But seriously, who the fuck is he.”