The Cabinet Communes

The Lookalike’s face remained placid as she placed down the steak and a bottle of whiskey on the table. A dainty hand immediately grabbed the amber neck, popped the top, and greedily guzzled the drink. Its owner sighed in pleasure. Hairy hands began to cut into the steak with vigor. All around them was the glowing neon of a winter night. Countless window panes reflected the rainbow of burning tubes. Passersby seemed like ants far below, swarming the sidewalks in search of presents. White snow drifted down, giving a romantic feeling to the venue in the clouds.

Predatory eyes ignored it all, instead roving across the Lookalike’s green dress.

“So, miss,” a suave yet harsh voice said. “May I get your name? You seem new here.”

“Oh would you stop,” came a feminine sneer. “She’s got nothing in there. It’s disgusting to watch you try and flirt with a doll.”

“You’re just jealous.”

The pair continued to bicker, sitting across from each other at a low table. A woman in a red dress and stockings, blonde curls done up with style. She could have walked out an ancient Flick dreamed up by countless men. The man sat in a neatly cut grey suit, trimmed beard, and glossy ponytail. Though beneath the fabric lurked a barrel frame and thick muscles. He raised a glass of water to his lips, gazing at the bottle in front of the woman.

“Such a nasty habit for you to have,” the man said. “You’re certainly not attracting me with it.”

“As much as I’m not attracted to men with ponytails?”

“You’d look better with a matching one.”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me how I should dress.”

The two continued to snipe at each other throughout their meal. Near the window sat a man in a trim black suit and bowler hat. He was trying to read a comic, but was constantly losing his place. By the time the Lookalike had cleared the plates, he couldn’t take anymore.

“Either get a room or stop talking, please!” he cried. “I’ve been stuck on the same panel for 3 minutes. You all are too much, I swear.”

A rough scrape sounded. The bespectacled man looked over the page to see the burly man storming towards him. Within seconds he found himself hauled up by the collar. His attacker was almost 7 feet tall, all muscle. A grin cut through his neatly trimmed goatee.

“Or what, bookworm?” the giant snarled. “I give you all the love and praise in the world? Say you are much smarter than me? More handsome?”

The femme fatale began to laugh at the table. The giant realized what had happened, and began to yell more insults about himself. The bookworm continued to smile, glasses turning a solid white. Fed up with the ability, the giant opened his hand wide. Hair grew rapidly, claws forming from his fingernails. The bookworm’s face turned as pale as his glasses. Before the predator could do anything, a voice sounded out.

“That’s enough, Harlison,” Erik said. “Put him down.”

The giant dropped the man without a word. The bookworm scrambled over to where the woman was, nearer to Erik. The mogul paced forward to the bar, where Friday had already finished up his cocktail. Erik took and drained it in the same breath.

“I summoned you all here for civility, not a fight,” he continued. “Shade, what did I say about riling him up?”

“But I didn’t,” Vivian Shade pouted. “He’s just mean. Isn’t that right, Byron?”

The femme fatale suddenly threw herself upon the bookworm. Byron Lionell the III gulped, face turning red as a hero’s cape. James Harlison cackled at the sight. Erik glanced at Shade, who yelped as she felt a sting. She leaned away from Lionell, the bookworm confused at the action. Then he fell to both knees, the room spinning around him. Lionell felt like he had just sprinted around the circumference of Center. Then his business partner revealed the scheme; Shade had purloined a portion of his power. Harlison watched the information dawn on the bookworm’s face with glee.

“That’s all she’s good for,” the predator said. “Attracts it right out of you.”

“Well you’re just a brute,” Shade, regaining her arctic attitude, spat at Harlison.

“Not a brute, a predator! Every cutthroat business needs one.”

“Which is why I called all of you here,” Erik jumped in. “Well, every one of you but Dr. Nash. I assume he’s running late from a surgery.”

“Why do we need this dweeb?” Harlison pointed at Lionell. “What’s he? The Pinnacle of Pocket Protectors?”

“I’ll have you know I work on the legal team,” the bookworm said, adjusting his glasses. “I exhibit the Pinnacle of Vocabulary. Every legal loophole is run and created by me.”

Harlison huffed at the power. Not one he would have picked. But this was Erik’s party. One that he sprang on its guests several days ago. The predator was enjoying his nice vacation in Tahiti. Even better since Shade was only a few beaches over. Now the two of them were stuck back in the freezing grey mess that was Center. Yet that was the life of a Cabinet Member. When Erik needed you, you made double time to meet him. Harlison sat down and leaned back into his chair.

“So then boss,” he smiled. “Can we just get the meeting over with and fill in Nash what he missed?”

“No,” Erik stated.

Harlison frowned and grumbled. Shade smiled at his discomfort, drinking another swallow of liquor. She raised the bottle to Lionell, who frowned and shook his head. The femme fatale shrugged and finished the whole thing. She sighed in pleasure, the hard drink piercing the coldness given by her business partner. One bottle ought to dull the rage from seeing herself twice over in the room. The Pinnacle of Attraction might not have been as powerful as Erik, but she certainly could have put up more of a fuss when he raised the experiment idea. And while the Lookalikes didn’t come out with extraordinary powers, it was still a horrid thing to do.

Even so, Shade LLC was nowhere near Flynt Enterprise’s level of authority.

Vivian pulled herself out of the daydream when the elevator dinged to a stop.

All eyes swiveled to take in the newcomer. A gaunt older man, in a pristine silver suit. His silver hair and beard were waxed to pristine condition. Even his very eyes were silver, the result of a genetic mix-up from a prior experiment. He was clutching an antique wooden walking stick riddled with ancient writing. Though what stood out was the man’s hand. What seemed like stitches ran haphazardly all over it. It was a patchwork of deep green and pale yellow. The man placed it unconsciously over his good one as he leaned on his staff.

“Ah, Nashy baby,” Vivian teased. “So nice of you to join us.”

“Is she still insisting on attending drunk?” Nash spat, glaring at the woman.

“It’s the Lookalikes,” Harlison answered. “She hates them. Doesn’t want any memory of them. And furthermore, she's still sober.”

“A rock and a hard place," the doctor muttered.

Nash strode over to the nearest easy chair, sitting gingerly down. He leaned forward and took in his compatriots. Harlison felt a gaze as powerful as an X-ray machine sweep over him. Vivian felt a tickle that was quickly stolen away. Lionell gulped at the action. Finally, Erik smirked as they had their usual little clash. Nash was forced to look away from his leader. The old man cleared his throat and turned back, now seeing with normal eyes.

“Pardon for my tardiness,” the doctor said. “I was caught up having to attend a holiday party with my staff. Now, pray tell, why have we been summoned here?”

Erik braced himself and began.

“Do you all remember the brownout from a few days ago?” the mogul asked.

Each of the Cabinet nodded. The beachgoers had been awoken by alerts from their beach homes. Lionell's home arcade had been cleared of its high scores. And Nash was forced to perform under backup lights at the hospital, since the power had blown the generators.

“One of my janitors caused that,” the mogul continued. “While the Pinnacle is still in the bottle, my scientists are monitoring no mental activity.”

“So what?” Harlison interrupted. “One measly floor cleaner bumped the controls and turned off the power for a few seconds. Big deal.”

“It is,” Erik snapped. “Because my scientists are now saying that it has no more mental activity.”

“Meaning what?” Lionell asked.

“Meaning that the Pinnacle has escaped,” Nash finished. “At least in the form of his mind. And it assuredly is aiming to return here to retake its body, using the janitor’s.”

“You mean that thing could be walking the streets right now with all the abilities you’ve got?” Harlison’s eyes grew wide.

“No,” Erik continued. “As much as I’m loath to say it. That thing has even more power than I do. And if that janitor does something stupid, say try and fight back…”

“Kablam!” Shade screamed, watching the men jump at the outburst.

The Cabinet looked at her. Even though she was teasing, Shade was right. Give the Pinnacle of Energy too much stress, and he might snap. Even with the power offered them by their business partners, they had no defense.

One wrong move and Center would be a smoking crater.