The food was magnificent. The music was live and artistically done. The people were the cream of society. And Lyle was dead bored. Why was it that whenever he attended one of these parties, someone always HAD to bring up the same old tired subject. Right now Melissa Cartwright was expounding on the magnificence of Picasso’s works. Lyle hated Picasso but knew that if he said even one word, he would prolong the agony. Even under normal circumstances he would be impatient to make his escape, but he had spotted a delightfully attractive newcomer to the usual boring crowd. She looked a couple of years younger than Lyle, excellent build, long dark hair, with very light complexion. Lyle was always shopping and a fresh face always caught his attention. Lyle figured another minute max., the windbag would wind down, and he could make his exit.

"Lyle, how can you just stand there and listen to that drivel! I KNOW you hate Picasso!" Bert Aarons knew he hated these discussions and was taking some kind of savage enjoyment in making it drag on. Bert knew he was too much of a gentleman to just ignore his prodding. The topic had been stirred up yet again and his escape route slammed shut.

"I am far from an expert and have very narrow tastes. I prefer..."

"Excuse me, are you Lyle Bright? Didn’t you speak at the young republicans convention a year ago?" The lovely young socialite he had noticed had actually tracked HIM down, and even better had magically changed the topic from the ever-so-dull "famous art" to his personal favorite, politics. Heh, heh. He could see panic arising in the Bert’s eyes as he realized he was the one now trapped. "Why yes, I did! How remarkable that you should remember me. Are you a member of the Young Republicans?"

"Well, actually, no. But I hold with many of their views. In particular, I’d like to see Clinton taken down."

Lyle could hardly believe it. He was in love. "Now aren’t you a treasure. " Speaking rather loudly, "finally someone with some common sense. "

"Did you hear the latest drivel they are spreading about Kathleen Willy? Women are lining up to testify against the pathetic weasel and they still have the gall to pretend he is the victim. I’d like to see the guy strung up by his balls."

Melissa gasped at the unlady-like talk and excused herself, led by a unusually gallant Bart Aarons. The young lady smirked at their response. The small group was soon only a twosome and the discussion abruptly turned serious.

"Lyle, I’ve heard that you are looking to get into the White House. So far you’ve tried to get invited to a party there, and even investigated somewhat less legal ways of getting in. What do you intend to do once you have a way of getting in." It was Lyle’s turn to be taken aback. She was obviously not what she seemed and was doing some fishing. Lyle had NOT been attempting illegal entry, at least not as Lyle. Scary thought passed through his mind. Perhaps she was a government agent attempting to entrap him. Perhaps someone had managed to penetrate his secret Id.

"Where in the world did you hear that?"

Again that smirk as she responded, "I have my sources. It is not important. What is important is that I, and my friends, have similar goals as you do. We think there might be a little chemistry if you are willing to take some chances."

She looked at Lyle for a moment as if thinking.

"If you are willing to take a chance, meet us at 1538 Wharf St. in two days, around noon. I think you will find we can help you with whatever plans you may have." She turned away and started mingling again. Lyle realized that he had never even gotten a name, and suspected that had he, it would not have been her real one anyway. He tried to keep his eyes on her and intended to follow her, but he balked at watching her while she visited the ladies room. When she never reappeared, he was unable to spot her, even using his x-ray vision.

Lyle went home early and started making some calls. First he contacted one of the two people that knew about his secret Id.

"Hello, Sherman, this is Lyle. Is the line safe."

"Sure. What’s new."

"Some lady I just met said that she knew I was looking for an illegal way in the whitehouse. Have you been careful about keeping my name out of your inquiries?"

"Of course, Lyle. All the men or contacts know about is Spectrum. And all my inquiries have been on Spectrum’s behalf, just as you requested. You realize how far I’ve stuck my neck out for you, don’t you. Why would I betray you, particularly when I owe you so big. "

"I never once figured you would intentionally let it slip. I was just wondering if there has been anyone snooping around or if you keep anything written down. Hell, Sherman, maybe they got one of those mind readers opening you up for all I know."

"Dammit Lyle. You knew the risks when you called in the favor. Who the %& do you think we are anyway. We're just a bunch of mercs, not a $^&ing squad of super heroes. Now I’m doing the best I can. If I can find a way in for you I will. If we get caught, we get caught."

"Yeah, well if you see a beautiful dark-haired lady with an attitude around, let me know."

Next Lyle contacted his fence. Again, nothing. Whoever she was, he wasn’t going to learn anything more unless he made their date.

The address belonged to a warehouse in a very nasty part of town. Although the place looked deserted, he knew better. Using his x-ray vision he was able to locate a man hidden in another doorway down the road a little ways, the unnamed woman inside, and 2 others hidden within. The man outside was dressed in fatigues and carried a pistol. One of the men within was dressed in a partial suit of battle armor, and the other was a hulking brute with long blond hair. That would make them the Mockery Brigade if he remembered correctly. Now this was quite a surprise.

Lyle walked into the warehouse according to the woman’s instructions, with seeming confidence, though seething with doubts. There was still the possibility that they had somehow cracked open his secret Id. Particularly if the witch used some of her hocus pocus.

Vivian met him in an open area inside, seemingly alone. "Congratulations. I really didn’t know if you had the balls to come here or not."

"He’s alone!" The man dressed in fatigues had checked the street out and followed Lyle in, not realizing that he was being watched the entire time. He approached within a few feet of Lyle brandishing a smoking cigar like some kind of emblem. "So, Mr. Bright." A puff on the cigar. "Just how much do you hate the United States Government"

Lyle hated lying, even when it meant the possibility of pissing off some VERY dangerous people. But almost against his will the words came out. "I happen to love the US Government, it’s the people in charge I can’t tolerate. I am only trying to get into the whitehouse for social reasons, a prelude for whatever I can do to rectify the situation. Make a few contacts, sway a few hearts, maybe someday run for office. What have you got in mind. If you wish to have an open discussion on the topic, may I recommend that your compatriots reveal themselves. There’s something about being secretly watched that makes me nervous."

The man smirked. "The US government" he said with obvious derision "is no better than the people in charge. And if you want to meet the rest of the group so be it."

He motioned to one corner of the warehouse, and the man in battle armor stepped into the light. "Meet Klash."

Another gesture and the blond stepped forward. "And Greyskull"

The woman made a gesture and her clothing was replaced by robes. "You’ve already met Vivian.

"And I’m Flagstaff. Collectively we’re known as the Mockery Brigade. What we have in mind, Mr. Bright, " Flagstaff says, puffing on his cigar, "is no less than replacing the United States government with people who can make a difference in this country. Politicians today are out only for themselves, not the people. Vivian said that you have an edge. She suspects that you might be willing to work with us and is even quite certain that you would be willing to take illegal and even drastic measures. Perhaps she was wrong. Your talk of changing things from the inside smacks of the drivel that has frozen progress in this country for decades."

Lyle was a little relieved. It seemed Vivian did not know about his secret Id and had discerned his illegal actions by conjecture only. "I am not a violent man, Flagstaff. Your group is somewhat notorious for rather unsubtle and violent means to your goal. Although we do have a few things in common, I would prefer to keep the US constitution. In effect, surgically correct the disease that has corrupted it. My father was a veteran and proud of it, were I to harm the country in any way his ghost would probably rise and haunt me. Not all politicians are corrupt, Flagstaff, just most. Perhaps one day I shall be an example of one that shares some of your views and has some integrity?"

"Am I correct in saying that your intentions are to replace the current government completely? I can see a hundred different ways your group would be useful to my goals. But considering the limitations on how far I am willing to go, what's in it for you? Even if I was willing to support your goals, what difference could I make!"

While Lyle spoke Flagstaff’s eyes narrowed while Vivian wore her perpetual smirk and twisted her hair around one finger. Lyle remembered reading she was only seventeen.

"Our goal is to replace the government," Flagstaff finally agreed. "Due process and checks and balances have strangled the ability of the government to serve the people. Only a clean sweep can make a difference."

"Our intent was to have you take a trinket of Vivian's into the White House. There's a teleportation shield around the entire grounds, but Vivian's magic could punch a hole through it from the inside. Once inside, we would slaughter the President and his cronies."

"Frankly," Flagstaff says, tossing his cigar to the floor and grinding it with his boot, "I don't have the patience for your sort of scheme. Say we get you elected into office, and within several years maneuver you into the Presidency. A couple of national disasters, you get emergency powers, disband Congress, and we're set."

"But I can't stomach several years of waiting." Flagstaff is beginning to become agitated. "The United States government was created by a group of elitists spouting off about the power of the people, while behind closed doors they came up with a system of government that takes power from the people."

Flagstaff started to pace. "I will not see this country suffer one day longer than necessary." He stopped pacing. "How about this...you take Vivian's trinket into a Presidential dinner, so that we can teleport in. We off the President and his cabinet, while you bravely save the life of the vice-president. You get instant political prestige, and we get to sweep the current administration out of office. Well?"

Lyle gave the bad news. "As tempted as I may be, I wish to remain bloodless. Unlike you, I have barely begun my attempts at changing the government and have not lost my patience. I am young and can afford to wait a year. But if things do not change in the next year, I hope that you will make me this offer again. I may have a change of heart if Clinton is not booted out of office by then. There is a part of me that hopes you do get in and put a hole in that Criminal. And should you manage to, the last person I am going to save is the vice-perpetrator. I'll be rescuing Newt if you don't mind. And if you let me leave here alive, I'll keep this little talk to myself..." His senses were on edge and he was ready to teleport away if they started shooting. His secret Id was not worth his life.

Flagstaff shook his head slowly. "Ah, hell. Maybe you'll get into office someday. Never let it be said that Flagstaff doesn't know how to plan ahead."

Vivian cleared her throat, but stopped at a look from Flagstaff. "I don't want to hear it from you, Vivian. I plan just fine."

Flagstaff shook his head again, turned, and walked out of the warehouse without another word. Klash and Greyskull followed him. Vivian walked halfway to the door, then turned back to Lyle.

"You don't know how lucky you are, Lyle. Flagstaff usually shoots first. See you around." With that, she left as well.