20103/Lit Patrol

Lit Patrol
Date of Scene:	04 March 2025
Location:	Dragonsworth Book and Bake
Synopsis:	'My Side' reading at Dragonsworth Cafe goes sideways when King Kandy causes a commotion and the cakes rise wild in the hills! Guest appearances abound, including Mister Fish and Phone Ranger. To be continued in 'Cake Patrol'. Watch for it!
Cast of Characters:	Cliff Steele, Mantis, Gar Logan, Dr. Phosphorus, Longshot, Larry Trainor, Conan, Kara Danvers
Tinyplot:	Threads

---

Cliff Steele has posed:
Dragonsworth Book and Bake is bustling tonight, packed to the gills with hobnobers, layabouts, and superfans, the small cafe's capacity strained under the shuffling crowd. Both registers are open, and a smiling but harried raven-haired manager in her early 30s is at the head of a third line, taking orders by hand--cash only.

My Side wouldn't normally be the sort of thing that most Clovertonians would pick up, but hometown pride and online buzz have made it a must-read for the local bookclubs and coffee klatsches, ensuring a sizeable turnout from the local arts community (modest though it may be), along with a few flamboyant diehards who took the loop out to Cloverton to get ahead of the expected crowds in the major metros.

Even Mister Fish is his here, his massive catfish-head bobbling above the crowd. No, people aren't really comfortable with him yet, but they're content to give the bar owner the side eye. And as for Mister Fish, well, he doesn't really have any choice in the matter, does he? Side-eye's just his natural state.

A temporary stage has been erected in one corner of the cafe, and so when Denise enters from the back room--alongside Steve, aka Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Man, as ever--a general cheer goes up and the raptor-woman stretches her fang-filled mouth open, letting out a squeal of delight as they jostle their way through the crowd to the stage. The ambient lights fade as a spotlight illuminates the strangely-conjoined duo.

The perspiring, pumpkin-faced Steve adjusts his glasses nervously and struggles to grab the microphone with his awkward celery fingers.

"Uh, hi, everybody! How're we doing tonight? Yeah, um, okay. Thanks for coming out this evening--we are soooo jazzed about the 'My Side' tour, just tremendously thankful, hashtag blessed. We're going to be reading selections from our first bestseller--oh, yess--and, after, we'll be signing copies over on the bookstore side, so make sure to follow us over there when we're through, okay?"

Oh look, there's Cliff Steele in the crowd, the robotman and the man-fish are scootching past one another uncomfortably.

"Now, as most of you probably already know, Denise can't read. That's not--you know what I mean! Denise doesn't have a voice--still not right. Denise has a speech disability and has to rely on AAC tools, which we're still figuring out, or by me reading her texts aloud. As such, she thought we might try something a little different tonight--to have our selections read by you, the fans, so to, and I quote, 'save ourselves considerable embarassment', end quote. So screw up your courage because you may be chosen to speak--though don't worry, we won't force anyone, ha. Now go ahead and find seating if you can, get settled, mute your phones, and put any last-minute orders in now so as not to disturb the reading once it's started. You've got five minutes. Somebody get me a latte!"

Mantis has posed:
They say she's but a feather dancing along in the galaxy's cosmic breeze, destined to just be wherever she's most needed. The reasons that make her needed, however, are rarely clear. And so...

"Oh, you're one of the weirdos," the cashier at the front decides, staring at a woman with large, inky black eyes and a pair of antennae extending from her forehead.

"No, I do not think so..." she replies in an ethereal, sing-songy voice. "I am Mantis."

"Uh huh. The book signing or... whatever it is... is over there."

"But I am here for a different reason..."

"Over there, 'Mantis'..."

"But... Okay..."

---

Mantis finds a seat for herself, sits down, and turns towards the stranger sitting next to her. "I am Mantis," she says before opening her mouth to form an uncomfortable smile, just as she practiced to get people to like her.

Gar Logan has posed:
Garfield Logan is a celebrity. Actor, movie star, super hero, Titan, occasional spokesperson for responsibly sourced skin care products. The Green Machine who is no longer a Teen, formerly Beast Boy, now Changeling and most specifically NOW now, in the shape of a green parrot that sits on the phone lines overlooking the gathering.

He'll check in with the Doomfolk if things quiet down, but he'd rather not draw too much attention or be forced to sign his own autographs and take the spotlight off of Denise and the work in question."

Those familiar with him might recognize him, hover, green parrots flying loose not typically being a part of the local habitat.

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus watches the exchange between the petite woman with antennae and the cashier. He's wearing his Brian Cranston mask under his hoodie, with wrap around glasses. He steps up to the register and drops his money for his book on the counter. Exact change. "There, that's all you get. Don't presume to tell me where to sit or you an everyone who doesn't clear the blast area will regret it. That was incredibly rude." He takes his book and walks over to a seat near Conan and Mantis. Phos absently begins leafing through the book. Maybe he got a mention? He may have given Steve something from commissary in the joint. He had no use for a comb or brush.

Longshot has posed:
Longshot is trying very hard to be here. This is difficult when he has been reduced to simply a mind trapped and sharing the body of the one and only King Kandy, Scion of Sweets, Duke of Desserts! Under normal circumstances, the two might get along famously! Both being champions of light and hope in their respective homelands. As it is, they have Not been getting along well at all.

For one, King Kandy is not interested in doing any of the things Longshot wants to do regularly: busking is apparently a waste of time and vigilantism is against the law, thus taking both of Longshot's favored pastimes off the table. Furthermore, Kandy is a married man and has Not appreciated Longshot flirting with anyone, much to Longshot's confusion. In general, Luck has been far less on Longshot's side since being stuck like this. Similarly, Longshot, for his part, really isn't interested in diplomatic negotiations and arming the animated cookies of Doom Manor, nor in mass murder of rats: the things that King Kandy wants to do.

Still, being trapped in another man's body and mind is still better than being in Ryker.

The only thing the two have agreed on is that this has been an unfortunate interruption to both of their lives and they'd like it to be over now. Yet, being here, today, in this lovely book reading, is what we would call a Compromise.

Neither man has read the book in question before, but it is an opportunity! Longshot gets to hang out with his Friends and King Kandy gets to indulge in his sweet tooth and investigate the cavity of crime that has been gnawing at him for days.

Thus, the brown-haired man in his 30s is crowned with the Lolis of Light upon his head and the traditional red and white striped attire of his station stands proudly, only slightly fidgeting with the clashing black leather jacket thrown over the Kingly garb.

He's close behind Sir Cliff Bar, host and regent of Doom Manor-Who is His FRIEND and NOT A KNIGHT! Longshot even asked if he was a knight and he said no, it's just just Cliff and-Sir Cliff Bar has been a worthy host of-Friend not Knight!-Thoughts fight quietly back and forth as seats are found with limited muttering. Book is had and stared at.

Larry Trainor has posed:
It's rare to catch a glimpse of the town's most notable agoraphobe, but whenever it happens the town of Cloverton typically wishes that it hadn't. But although retired Air Force Captain Lawrence Trainor rarely steps foot off of the grounds of Doom Manor unless he absolutely can't help it, there are times when one simply must support ones local community, and break the old suit out of mothballs. Or whatever radiation-mitigating devices are kept in Larry Trainor's trunk of horrors.

Standing next to the cash register with a copy of A Mencken Chrestomathy and a large collection of sudoku puzzles, Larry looks a bit awkward, painfully aware of the effect that his appearance typically has on those who observe him out and about. But though he's swaddled in his typical radiation-blocking gauze bandages, he has nevertheless dressed up for the occasion, for snooty societal gatherings such as this are not appropriate venues to wear his typical brand of improbably chic paramilitary surplus.

A pair of penny loafer, with pennies included. Always a great choice for versatile styling options. Argyle socks can be seen, a bit further up than the ankle, which is where the ends of his polyester pants end. And though his pants are not especially tight, they nevertheless have exceptional drape, due to the pronounced flare at the end, bell-bottom style. For this is no mere suit. Nay, it is a plaid leisure suit, purchased for top dollar the summer that 'Shining Star' was on the charts. Replete with a pair of aviators, it is by far the most fashionable ensemble worn by any severely-burned man in his 90s within this particular bookstore.

"I'd like to purchase these books."

The cashier looks at the mummy from another time and rings up the purchases.

"That'll be $49.78. We don't take card."

"That's okay. I'll write a check."

"Like... grandpa money?"

"Mmhmm."

Conan has posed:
There's a lot of people in this crowd, among them Conan, who has come to see his favorite living author. In fact, Denise is the author of the only book Conan's read since arriving in the present. The library in jail got all the newest book releases and Conan had to read a dragon's autobiography when offered the opportunity. Dressed in a nice red sweater, blue jeans and leather boots he certainly almost looks like a regular guy. He's not even wearing furs or a sword belt.

He finds himself a seat when instructed to 'get settled', resting his bulky frame in the chair. He senses someone sit next to him and turns to see someone introduce themselves. The barbarian nods and replies, "Conan. Have you come to see the dragon? Her words carry great wisdom." Her antennae are given a quick glance, but the wild man has seen far stranger things recently.

There's a bird flapping in the room. No one seems opposed to its presence. Must be a pet.

As Doctor Phosphorus takes a seat nearby Conan's expression shifts rapidly as he catches the villain's familiar scent. "Skull!" He looks from side to side, trying to figure out where his adventuring buddy might be. When he's unable to locate him he frowns, furrowing his brow deeply.

Gar Logan has posed:
Garfield Logan lands just above where Larry's buying his books, "My god, buying paper books while at an outdoor festival in a pastoral setting in America's heartland! Truly, Larry Bear, you are just straight Norman Rockwelling it and I am digging the vibes, brother," Gar says.

Then, remembering he's a parrot, turns his head to look at the cashier, "Er, I mean, Polly want a cracker?"

He's trying not to be nervous. Too many Doomers in public often leads to pitchforks and crumbling towers and fire and he really doesn't want to have to call in the Titans because Chief hates it when he brings in outsiders and the team likes to be self-sufficient but, like, they are bad at PR, okay, they just are.

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus notes the interaction. "Oh fuck... it's the Little Green Sprout. He moves further down away since he has no desire to be busted by a parrot, or an armadillo or whatever. In the criminal rep game that's the same as getting wallopped by a boxing glove arrow and he does want to see Denise and Steve.

He gets a little bored and thwaps Conan on the shoulder. When the Cimmerian turns he quickly pulls down his mask to give him a peek. He doesn't want a sword stuck in him after all.

"Shhh don't tell. The law's still looking for me. Sometimes a skull just has warrants, you know?"

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Okay, let's get this party started, shall we? How about that big hunk in the back--you know who you are, tall, dark, and handsome. That's right, get on up here!"

Steve points and waves excitedly to the recently-escaped Cimmerian. A polite cheer goes up as the spotlight lands on Conan the Literati.

Meanwhile, Mister Fish and Cliff are forced to sit next to each other, nonverbal masculine posturing commences.

The lights dim further, cafe-goers begin to discover that they perhaps ordered more than they intended, a snickerdoodle in the purse, a lemon bar stacked atop their coffee cup. But who could complain?

King Kandy, that's who--that cavity of crime is starting to flare, and the tummyache of terror quakes ominously. Some sweet-toothed deviltry is afoot, that much is certain, and it draws ever-near!

Mantis has posed:
"No..." Mantis tells Conan, tilting her head towards one of her shoulders as she considers his question. Did she come to hear the dragon? "I do not know who the dragon is." No shame in it. No reason to question just why she's even here in the first place. It's where she wound up.

Mantis catches Conan looking up at her antennae. She looks up, too, but it's a pointless attempt. Instead, she reaches up with both hands and gently touches them, as if they were errant locks of hair that have gotten out of place somehow. After adjusting her antennae, Mantis glances back at Conan, perhaps to see if he approves now.
en the spotlight is thrown onto Conan, and slightly onto her due to proximity, Mantis freezes in place, staring up at Conan the Barbarian with her large, inky black eyes.

Conan has posed:
"I have learned a word recently," Conan declares to Dr. P, leaning over to speak quietly. "ACAB."

When Mantis speaks the warrior turns to address her, "Denise is the dragon over there, with the person and plants growing out of her." When she touches her antennae he looks confused just in time for the light to fall upon him.

The barbarian proceeds quietly to the front of the room to stand before the gathered readers atop the stage. His copy of the book is brand new, having just bought one for himself.

He found something in the author's words that spoke to him deeply. The barbarian quickly finds the place in the autobiography he's looking for and begins reading in a clear, strong tone, "'Sometimes, as an intelligent apex predator, I find my instincts trying to override my good sense. And those instincts, despite not having a dinosaur body, still want me to hunt prey. I sometimes look at joggers and the instinct to chase them hits like a brick through a windshield.

"'I have to remind myself sometimes, that though I am a dinosaur I am also a person. One who is capable of thinking, feeling and reasoning. I have learned how to put the desire to hunt aside, but it is something I know I can never leave behind entirely.'"

The prehistoric rogue looks up at the room, "I too know the pain of a life without spilling blood or adventure, for recently I was incarcerated. After my first day the other prisoners were too terrified to fight and it became very dull. Once I conquered the gym equipment I found the jail library and learned the tale of Denise. From her I learned that there can be joy found even when trapped." He turns and looks at the velociraptor, "Thank you."

Longshot has posed:
King Kandy is instantly up and looking around, much to the annoyance of both Longshot and the people sitting around him. Soft apologies are whispered as he tries to agilely slip through the crowd without disrupting the reading, but King Kandy simply isn't as able on Earth as he is in CandyLand and certainly not as able as Longshot's normal body. He will make it to the edge of the sitting room and he halted by Longshot.

THAT'S CONAN UP THERE READING!!!! Longshot waves excitedly before remembering he doesn't look himself and will settle back to listen. That really is inspiring, maybe he should have read the book? Longshot really isn't great at reading. Or sitting still for long. Or reading.-

BUT THERE IS EVIL A FOOT! King Kandy is SURE of it! A hand settles on his trustworthy Lariote of Licorice, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of bitterness-Any Sign of that gnawing aftertaste of Evil that comes only from denizens of darkness-Perhaps even the Don of Dark Chocolate himself! King Kandy has pushed worries of the rise of the Birthday Cake Wishes to rest days ago, but perhaps he was wrong? Perhaps the Candlemaker stalks these hallowed halls of baked goods? He so recently reached out for peace across the Domains of Dessert! Worry as wide as flan forest grips him, Lariote not yet drawn, but his trusty bag of sweet and sour is close at hand. He is ready to defend the citizens of Clover Ten as if they were his own!

Larry Trainor has posed:
"Thanks, unfamiliar parrot. We're meeting now for the first time."

Smooth operator that he is, it's a wonder that Larry wasn't recruited for some sort of secret spy agency after he was fatally irradiated and horribly disfigured. The cashier looks at him a bit uncertainly as she waits on him to finish writing up the check with his fountain pen, which takes a bit longer to dry since Larry's unable to blow on it. One of the side effects of having one's mouth wrapped in gauze all the time. They don't cover that one in the brochure.

She looks a little skeptically at the talking parrot, but Larry is quick to provide a plausible cover story.

"We're just normal men."

With the check finally dry, Larry takes his overpriced purchases, holding them under his arm and looking relatively dapper for a corpse in an ill-fitting suit that he bought fifty years ago, give or take. Sure, it looks like he's expecting a flood, but the odds of one occurring aren't exactly zero, and if one does occur he'll look all manner of prepared while the rest of the Clovertonians gripe of wet ankles.

Taking a seat on the row behind Cliff, Larry leans forward and murmurs under his gauze.

"I told the cashier that we're normal men. But I think she might be suspicious that we're the Doom Patrol. Just a heads up. Maybe... act like someone who knows how to read?"

Patting the metallic shoulder, Larry leans back in his chair, sets his books on his lap, and does his best impersonation of a mannequin in the world's creepiest thrift store.

Cliff Steele has posed:
The reception to Conan's selection is mixed, with many of the locals looking a bit shocked--one doesn't necessarily need to finish a book to attend a club meeting, after all. But Conan's friends clap with enthusiasm, along with a few others, most notably among them Mister Fish, who stands to whistle encouragement alongside Cliff, the two half-giants jostling each other but nodding in mutual respect as they join in cheer.

"That was great, wasn't it? Okay, up next, hmm. How about the girl with the antennae? What's that about? Get on up here, sister!"

A glass lid clatters to the floor from the countertop, bouncing but not breaking on the tile floor of the cafe. The proprietress, a buttoned-down and frazzled-looking young goth, looks sheepish as she recovers the top to a platter of danishes--or, at least, there were danishes. Seems they've vanished; business must be bustling tonight.

Yet for King Kandy, that business is at the root of all evil--and how it aches from the cavity of criminal confection!

"Whattya mean, look like somebody who reads? C'mon, I read! It hasn't been that long since I picked up Lonesome Dove. I'm still going to finish it, one of these days."

Mantis has posed:
When they call for the girl with the antennae, Mantis looks to her left, looks to her right, and then looks forward. She lifts her hand into the air. "Me?" she asks.

Mantis makes her way to the front of the gathering with some apprehension and shyness, though a moment is spared for Denise herself. "I do not know who you are, but everyone is here to support you. You have lots of friends," she says, zeroing in on the dinosaur's apparent stage fright. "And my beautiful new friend Conan says you carry great wisdom."

With that business settled, Mantis looks down at the cover of the book placed in front of her. She gently frowns at it, antennae rising as an expression of her curiosity. She hesitantly reaches out with her hand and carefully opens it to ... somewhere, anywhere, not knowing it's just about the most perfect passage she could read from a book she's never seen before now.

"'I have no origin story. No hatching, no childhood, no dramatic moment of creation. One day, I simply was--a fully conscious raptor head attached to the shoulder of a man who is part animal, part vegetable, part mineral, and entirely incompetent,'" Mantis reads carefully. "'I have no memories of a nest, no instinctive knowledge of my species, no sense of what I was meant to be. Am I a clone? A mutation? A cosmic joke? The only thing I know for certain is that I exist, and that I am stuck here, bound to a life I never chose.'"

Mantis looks up at the audience and gently nods her head. "These are important questions that we have all asked ourselves," Mantis reminds them before returning to the book.

"'What is my purpose? Am I supposed to be his advisor? His moral compass? His attack dog? If so, I'd like to formally resign. He never listens to me anyway. I try to warn him, to steer him toward better decisions, but my words--when they even come out in something more than angry screeches--are drowned out by his endless self-importance,'" Mantis continues.

"You tell it, sister," she comments, glancing up at the audience.

"'I watch the world pass by from my ridiculous perch, wondering if I was meant for something greater. But how can I ever know, when I am nothing more than a head without a path, a mind without a destiny, a raptor with no reason to be?'" Mantis reads. She closes the book slowly and wipes away a thin line of tears from her lower eyelids.

"Thank you for listening to me read from this book," Mantis tells the audience.

Gar Logan has posed:
Garfield Logan leaps down from his parrot position, swooping low and shifting into the form of a green housecat, slipping in between people's seated legs as they listen. Is he listening? No, not really. He's never been very good at the whole 'attention span' thing. One of the things the Chief used to chide hi about when he was more of an active part of the Doom Patrol.

He ain't volunteerin' for nothin', though, just sitting there and giving himself a cat bath.

Longshot has posed:
King Kandy is absolutely certain that they are all in danger. Absolutely certain from the depths of the Black Pudding Sea that-BUT THAT'S MANTIS!!! Longshot knows her! She was very nice! So many friends here tonight! See? Isn't compromise such a great thing? Maybe Longshot could talk to her and she'd remember! Talking to aliens has always been nice the past and-

Kandy's yanking of Longshot's attention away from the reading will have the man skirting the crowd toward the bakery counter itself, determined to get to the bottom of this bottomless pixie stick of worry! The source of this shall be rooted out!

And yet, he is simply not able to get through the crowd with much ease, much to a growing frustration, but Luck is not on his side and he is simply not physically what he was or could be- "Good Citizens! The Dough of Doubt is upon me! Pray, let the pie of passion take you, for there is evil with us tonight! Take heart, take tart-and please let me through!!"

Kara Danvers has posed:
What's that! Over there, in the children's section! It's a librarian! No -- it's a young kindergarden teacher, fresh out of college... NO! It's mild-mannered Kara Danvers! And she's...!

Babysitting!

And you know... it's actually quite difficult to wrangle a toddler who loves dinosaurs in a library, when there's a dinosaur in the library. Well, not a... not a /real/ dinosaur. Not at least the kind of dinosaur that wandered around in the paleolithic era, or whenever it was. But the closest thing to a dinosaur that we can get in the post-cambrian, or whatever era we're in. Look, man! She's a journalist, not a paleontologist!

"When you give him a glass of milk, he'll probably ask you for a straw," Kara says, her voice hushed (it's a library!) to little Rory as she reads to him. Rory, who is absolutely /not/ paying attention, and trying to wiggle out of her grasp. Mercifully, mild-mannered Kara Danvers has faced worst than a toddler...

But not much...

"When he's finished, he'll ask for a napkin..." Kara continues.

"Blubhllibl!" Rory declares, and sort of slaps at the book in her lap.

"Yeah! Napkin!" Kara exclaims, a bit too loud. An old librarian shoots a dirty look in her direction, and the bespectacled woman gives an apologetic expression and pushes up her glasses.

'Sorry,' she mouths to the woman, and then cranes her head to look over the top of the library stacks at the reading going on. Rory wiggles. Slips from her grasp.

"/Rory/," Kara hisses, but the book is knocked from her lap and onto the floor and, by the time she's recovered it, Rory is already toddling his way through the library stacks and towards La Dinosaur. Named Denise.

"Babiluaur..."

Conan has posed:
As Mantis finishes her recitation Conan claps for her at an appropriate noise level, nodding his head at the wisdom of the passage that she read. He adjust his mass in the seat and as Mantis returns he tells her, "You chose a fine passage. Growing up I was taught there is no reason for us to live but to strive, and that it is better to be alive than to wander the gray mists endlessly in death. I do not know what of that is true, but I have learned that among the civilized people a search for purpose is important."

Who is that strange guy that's warning of danger in a mostly ineffective manner? The Cimmerian's highly tuned sense of hearing pick up his words. "What do you warn of, man? Make it quick! If evil is present let it be known so that I can strike it down and we can read in peace!"

Mantis has posed:
Mantis stares up at Conan after returning to her seat at his side. She listens intently to his fancy words -- she knows each one of them, but their order and the choice to include them in these sentences seem to confound her. Instead of directly responding, Mantis smiles up at Conan.

"You sound like you are a very smart person," she decides. "Perhaps you could be this planet's greatest mind."

Conan's outburst, though, draws Mantis' attention towards Longshot and, by some extension, King Kandy. She smiles toothily and waves.

Larry Trainor has posed:
Finally Larry's turn, the well-dressed fossil stands behind the podium, flipping to the section of the book that meant the most to him. Or possibly to a random page, since nobody is really checking. But when he finds his place, he takes a deep sigh, and looks around the room before beginning.

"True, there are times when I think my life might have been easier if I were not a carnivorous reptile from the Late Cretaceous period. And yes, there are times when I bitterly regret being attached to the body of an out of shape middle-aged man with eczema and frequent bouts of the night toots. For although he has been a supportive partner as I adjust to my reality, he is also a great impediment to my mating life. As I have been frequently reminded, a woman of my beauty should have her pick of suitors, for mine are the sharpest teeth of any female in the greater New Jersey area, if not the entire Eastern Seaboard. Yet this is not what truly causes me grief."

Clearing his throat, Larry looks out at the small crowd, and then continues.

"What truly causes me grief is the lack of understanding that I see in those around me. For when they look at me, all that they see is carnivorous head. But though I greatly enjoy to eat raw ground beef virtually around the clock, that is not who I truly am."

"But what am I then? Am I animal? Am I vegetable? Am I mineral? Am I a man? The answer to all of those questions is no, and yet the answer to all of those questions is also yes. For indeed, all of us who exist within this plane of consciousness are animal, vegetable, and mineral. For time and space are merely abstract notions used by intelligent life forms to make sense of the ever expanding cosmos surrounding us."

"And that is why, whenever I see someone looking at me on the subway, I always return their stare. Because to me, they are the Animal Vegetable Mineral Men... and I am simply Denise."



Larry's voice cracks at the end, and as he retakes his seat, the gauze in the corners of his aviators looks a bit damp.

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Yesss--slay, sister!"

Steve and Denise clap enthusiastically in reception, and the diehards cheer out too--though the normies perhaps bitterly bite into their spare kitchen sink cookies and walnut-fudge brownies. It's one thing in the abstract, but having this many weirdies present does have the more buttoned-down among the crowd restive, and the mood has started to tilt the mood from bemusement to upset.

So, when King Kandy interrupts to warn of some sort of danger, he is met with a chorus of boos and hisses, a voice from the crowd shouting, "shut that guy up!" When Conan speaks, they cheer in agreement.

A leafy appendage shades Steve's face as he stares out into the darkness of the crowd.

"Okay, Candy Thang, if you're going to interrupt then I'm afraid you're going to have to read. Then you can tell us all about this doughy danger or whatever it is. Deal?"

The microphone is offered, two sassy looks behind--one man, the other a lady raptor.

For Garfield the Cat, however, something is clearly off as he weaves through the legs of the patrons. There's cookies moving around down here, like something out of Fantasia, oatmeal raisins a'rolling, chocolate chunk clambering into jacket pockets, open purses. danishes and scones by the dozen, busily alive.

Elsewhere, the cakes rise wild in the hills.

Longshot has posed:
Wow, Larry is so cool. How can someone be so cool? AND MANTIS WAVED! Quick, wave back before-Kandy hears Conan and immediately is talking again before Longshot can stop him, "Evil haunts this place! I know not it's source, but I feel-"

Kandy is cut off again, not by Longshot but the nice Steve! Being called on does two things: Offers Longshot a Stage, and Kandy the ability to get closer to the bakery itself easily, things both men want! Now the crowd is willing to shuffle out of his way as he stalks up, muttering apparently to himself.

"We need to evacuate an-"
"You don't know where it is?"
"No."
"Then there is nothing to fight! We were asked to read, we have to read!"
"Then you guess where the danger is!"
"I'm not as lucky since you showed up! People are looking at us-"

The stage has been reached and despite King Kandy intending to announce the danger and ask the good people of Clover Ten to evacuate before a battle between whatever bitter bite of bad lurks in this bakery and the king himself-Intention is dashed as Longshot flips the book open at random and stares at it.

Really not a great reader, Longshot. His short memory doesn't include how he knows how to do anything. Yet, the general sense that Reading is not something he's ever been asked to do regularly exists. It's not like his makers are in the habit of letting their people know what contracts say.

"Ummm. Rest ass-ur-d. Assured that I have no in-ten-tion-"

This is a waste of time, King Kandy has a fight to do, but will take pity on Longshot and take over the reading.

    "Rest assured that I have no intention of belittling you, though I hope you would humor some discussion of what is so alien and strange from my perspective. To say the culture shock of my current situation was a hurdle to be overcomed is perhaps too small of a word!

    To start, the human desire for companionship being so great that many of you have small predators within your home and claim they are 'Man's Best Friend' is an oddity. The selective breeding that has brought the great wolf from the forests into the spindly, shaking lapdogs most suited to being carried in a purse says great things about humanity's creativity, but not great things about your understanding of nature. I'm fascinated by the concept of making homes to separate oneself from nature, then bringing that nature inside in the form of potted plants and pets. Though I'm still not a dog person, I have embraced this custom and now am a proud owner of a cat by the name of 'Fern'.

    She doesn't seem to like Steve much, and in that, we and I have enough in common for me to want her companionship. Living with her and Steve has brought up questions of the concept of Domestication and I posit: Have Humans Domesticated themselves? I am certainly not the person to answer this question, but I instead offer thanks that if Domestication has resulted in small calico cats that sit on my lap as I enjoy evening tea, it has been worth it. Thank you, humanity for this small comfort as I navigate your world."

Kandy Stops, looks at the audience, "Can we Please Evacuate Now? A Battle of Great Mystery is Upon Us Soon! THE CAKE COMES!!!"

Kara Danvers has posed:
Late Cretaceous period! That's the one! Thanks Larry!

Anyway, there goes Rory, toddling precariously through the library stacks, weaving his way out of the children's section and towards the ADULT section. Not /that/ kind of adult section, mind you. This is not a freaky ahhh library. But it's where the adults are gathering and, at least in this moment, where Denise's book is being read out loud.

"Rory... /Rory/," Kara continues, nearly catching up to him and reaching out to grasp his collar, but the little guy suddenly ducks and crawls his way through the bottom shelf and onto the other side of the aisle. Kara groans. This is /so/ much more difficult without powers. Straightening up, she adjusts her glasses once more and turns to rush down the aisle to round the corner and when she does... well. Have you ever seen the color drain out of a Kryptonian's face? Well you won't! Because she's alone in the aisle. But the cause to that effect is twofold, you see. It's also the cause for the draining of the blood from her face, and the sudden pallid tone of her normally yellow-sun kissed visage.

Rory is gone.

"Ohhhh... /sugarshack/," Kara says. And then hurries down the aisle, quickly looking and ducking every which way. And as she does, she'll get into earshot of a familiar voice:

    '...--all of us who exist within this plane of consciousness are animal, vegetable, and mineral. For time and space are merely abstract notions--' <-- says Larry Trainor.

"Man, what is this book even /about/?" Kara wonders... and then, she adds: "///Rory///," Still hushed, but potentially audible to those gathered to listening. Kara pauses for a moment and closes her eyes. She tries to tap into the sound of the library. Those soft murmurings. The sound of fingertips sliding against paper. The sound of two teenagers doing hand stuff in a rented office room.

"Jeepers..." Kara murmurs...

Steve and Denise's clapping and the 'yessssss--slay, sister!'. Kara lets out a huff and concentrates again...

"There you are...!" she says, and turns around to head back the way she came, just as Rory pops into view to those gathered to listen to the readings of Denise's memoir. Rory stops where he is and blinks, wide-eyed, at the dinosaur-eczema-woman-man-lady. And as if the chaos of this particular moment couldn't get any more... chaotic... Kandy's cry for evacuation is met with the sound of a toddler shrieking in excitement and pointing towards Denise!

"Bibalbbaur!" he announces, and attempts to run at her (at a toddler's pace) until Kara is there to foist his wiggly self up off the ground and tuck him to her side with a chorus of...

"Sorry!"
"Sorry!"
"So sorry!"
"Sorry everyone..." as she finds a spot to sit at and fishes a pack of fruit snacks out of her jean pockets to hopefully appease the tiny beast.

Mantis has posed:
Mantis continues to wave at Longshot and King Kandy for several more seconds, not exactly sure why she's not getting a response. Instead of giving up and keeping her gesture to a normal length of time, the alien woman just keeps going and going and going until King Kandy makes his triumphant warning. "The cake comes?" Mantis repeats, looking left and right, trying to gauge everyone's reaction to that. Is it really as dire as it sounds? She puts her arm down.

Standing from her seat, Mantis looks at Conan. "It was nice to meet you. You are a very beautiful man and your appearance has made me have thoughts and feelings that are private and just like those that Peter has for ... well, for everyone," she tells him. "But I have to go. I am needed somewhere."

And so, the so-called Guardian of the Galaxy, content to flutter through the galaxy on the cosmic breeze, shuffles awkwardly the wrong way down the row of chairs, past Mr. Fish and the other eldritch curiosities, and out into an unsuspecting Earth once again.

Larry Trainor has posed:
"Hm..."

As reactions go, Larry's tend to be pretty minimal. It's not surprising, given his status as Cloverton's Most Eligible Radioactive Introvert. But when the goings-on around him are so strange, one might expect at least an upraised eyebrow, perhaps a 'Fascinating...'. It's impossible to know for sure that his eyebrow isn't raised, however, for that was burned off and then covered by gauze and tacky seventies aviators.

As a cookie rolls up his leg and into the pocket of his leisure suit, Larry sighs heavily. It's the sigh of a man pushing a hundred, who would much rather be sealed up in his lead-lined decontamination chamber and staring at the ceiling. There's still time to do that later, though, for his lead-lined decontamination chamber is going nowhere.

"Well, it's not a very good book. In fact, if I were being honest, I'd have to say it's a very bad one. But it takes motivation to write two hundred and four pages... and that in itself... it's something."

Kara Danvers has posed:
Kara Danvers, bless her soul, is conveniently late to this party to a degree that she just thinks this is all some sort of... performance art piece? Or at the very least, that the book is a bit of esoterica about mineral-animals and cosmic cakes. So she's mostly tuning out the talk of an incoming threat, while attempting to appease this little wiggler in her lap.

"Do you want some fruit snacks? Hey, hey, look! Look at the fruit snacks...!" Kara says to him. She pulls open the bag and dumps them into her palm, and Rory sort of slaps at a couple of them, then awkwardly grabs three and pushes them all into his mouth to get his hand all slobbery. It's a hand that forms a pointy-finger and points at Mantis, as she passes. He doesn't /say/ anything, since he's a toddler, but he definitely points at her. Probably because she has antennae, and he's a child without manners.

"No... no we don't point at people," Kara says to Rory, and pushes his little arm down while giving an apologetic smile to Mantis as she passes. It's this lifting up of her attention that sees her pale blue eyes turn towards Larry, whose voice she'd heard while attempting to wrangle Rory as he wandered through the BOOK SHOP (not library) moments ago. Kara offers a little finger-wiggly wave, just as she sees a cookie roooooooooooll up his leg, and deposit itself into the pocket of his suit. Kara makes a face. Is it at the cookie? Or is it at Larry's rather savage takedown of the book written a half-man, half-raptor that is in the room with them.

"/Larry/," Kara says, using suspiciously the same tone she'd used on Rory the toddler a few moments ago.

And that's when Kara's attention seems to sharpen. Focus honed, and lines being drawn. Cookies. Cakes. Impending conflict. Something about--

Rory smacks at her hand again to get more fruit snacks and abruptly distracts her when he spills a couple down onto the floor. Kara leans down to pick them up with her free hand and, after inspecting them, deems them appropriate for an adult to eat and not a child. Selflessly, she eats them herself.

...Wait, the cookies!

"What was that part about the cake? Was that in the book or something?"

Ah, poor Denise. First Larry's criticism, and now an audience member who clearly hasn't read her MEMOIRE.

Cliff Steele has posed:
The cakes are a'comin', that's for sure.

Watch how weirdly they hop, cresting beyond the treeline into the outlying farmland of Bargaintown, columns of dark knights of german chocolate alongside the two-lane farm-to-market roads, rows of red velvet led by bannerets of the rosy cross, sugar-crusted marmalade mamluks smart in their buttery battalions, humble pies happy to serve as auxiliaries in the coming battle.

But not quite yet.

"Rory? Is there something wrong with my grandson? Hey! Let me through!"

"You heard the tinhead, let the man by! There's a family emergency here," offers Mister Fish. These two are starting to look like a can of sardines.

But before grandpa and grandson are reunited, phones begin to erupt by the dozen, the angry buzzing of an emergency alert lurching the scene into mild chaos.

"Uh, can we turn the lights on? Sorry, folks, looks like there's some sort of ACTUAL emergency. Sit down, Candy Thang, before you hurt yourself."

The lights go up suddenly, capturing a strange tableaux--dozens of baked goods clatter to the ground simultaneously, slipping from shoulder perches and falling free from pant legs.

Yet not quick enough, it seems, as a scream lets out from the crowd:

"Good God, they're alive! The-the cookies are alive!"

Another voice, after reading the alert on their phone, cries out: "They must be in league with the cakes! There's an invasion of the cakes!"

What's this now?

PHONE RANGER ALERT

AREAS AFFECTED: CLOVERTON, BARGAINTOWN, EGG HARBOR

THIS IS AN EMERGENCY

RESIDENTS BE WARNED THAT DOZENS OF ANIMATED CAKES HAVE BEGUN TO CONVERGE ON CLOVERTON. PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR HOMES IMMEDIATELY. FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO EAT THE CAKES.

And the trampling towards the doors begins. Chaos cranks from mild to medium as the cookies, knowing the jig is up, spring to life, leaping from the ground to roll as one, a tide of semi-sweet terror intent on that crown prince of confection, King Kandy!

Longshot has posed:
"THE CAKE IS HERE!" Kandy-or maybe it's Longshot-Or maybe it's the combination of them-Are really trying to restrain themselves. There is an EVIL here. Capital letters and all, Evil as the Lord Licorice's tendency toward lies, but worse. And yet the people of Clover Ten are not taking this seriously. No one is taking this threat seriously, in fact. Interrupting the book reading really is a shame, of course, BUT there is a fight to the death for the future of-something, really unclear, but Longshot understands that Kandy is upset and Kandy IS Very Upset.

But now things are going down!!!

"WE HAD A TREATY! PEACE WHILE ON THIS PLANE! BURNT BETRAYERS, THE LOT OF YOU!!! MAY YOUR BUTTERCREAM RUN SOUR!!!" The Licorice Lariat is out, one hand shoved into the enchanted back of Sweets and Sours and King Kandy pulls out something that looks an awful lot like a lemon drop-darn it would be useful to have a some luck with the random-based enchantment that the bag is, alas, this is is sure to have Explosive flavor. This will be thrown back away from the gathered civilians and toward the bakery ovens themselves, exploding with a sour puff of tart!

He tries to jump away, tries to rely on that power that so marks his existence in CandyLand and accursed gravity holds him fast to a very average hop. The convergence of cookies from all sides will have a single sweep of the mighty licorice sword, one hand coming up to the crown at his head and plucking a single loli of power. He knows this crumbles that great Lord of Lindor back home, but there are too many innocent hearts here to risk!

The saccharine taste of bubblegum blue hits King Kandy's tongue and light fills the room! A flash of rainbow color and edible confetti as a cherry cape wraps around him, a cotton candy ruff and bracers of jawbreak armor slate out over him. Immediately he's on the defense, that lone hole in his crown already starting to sprout a candle-But the man himself slashes out with an inhuman speed and strength, rendering the oncoming wave of carbs into crumble!!! Icing dashed aside!!! Tiny bodies rendered asunder!

Kara Danvers has posed:
Oh.

Things are /indeed/ going down.

Kara Danvers' kicks into Supergirl mode within an instant. Though, you know. Not /all the way/ Supergirl mode. Just 'save the toddler' Supergirl mode. She rises abruptly to her feet and tucks Rory against her side, giving a quick glance towards Cliff and Larry before she takes a path leading opposite the candy carbohydrate melee. Bright lights, and shouting -- obviously, Rory is very into this. Just a series of giggles erupting from the toddler as he's pulled in the opposite direction. Blissfully unaware, as children are, to danger and their own mortality.

"Ooookay, let's get you outta here kiddo," Kara says as she rushes Rory and herself away.

Larry Trainor has posed:
"Aww man... this is dry clean only!"

Standing up abruptly as he throws a cookie across the room, Larry snatches up his newly-purchased books and clutches them to his chest. As the lights come on and the cakes begin their attack, the hardened veteran reacts swiftly and decisively.

By standing on his chair.

"Dry clean only! There's no way to replace this suit, the company went out of business in NINETEEN EIGHTY THREE!"

But as yet another cookie comes within striking distance, the protection of Larry's Leisure Suit becomes of secondary importance to the one who actually makes the major decisions for Captain Trainor. For he is only one half of a conjoined creature, much like Denise and Steve. But unlike them, Larry's Negative Spirit has ultimate veto power and doesn't write about his feelings.

Larry's chest begins to glow, and the Negative Spirit releases from his chest, flying around the room at something close to the speed of light. Cookies begin to bake a second time, their edges burning and their insides turning from gooey to charred.

Larry himself falls off his chair, landing very hard on the ground like a sack of dead kittens.

He'll be fine. He always is.

Cliff Steele has posed:
The broad front windows of Dragonsworth overlook Four-Clover Square, a plot of well-mainted grass with a gazebo, atop which the forward forces begin to marshall.

The patrons take the Phone Ranger's timely advice, by and large, fleeing madly through the streets, weaving through the sheets of sweet soldiery amassing at the center of town. Among them is Steve, his arms flailing wildly in the air as Denise repeatedly bites him in a fit of pique. At least most have fled--a few would-be influencers appear willing to risk life and limb for the likes, but no big surprise there.

Inside the cafe, the smell in the air is fearsome, a powerful aroma so delicious that mouths water hungrily even as knees knock in terror. The proprietress sighs in weary distress.

"Well, isn't this inconvenient. Mister Kandy, would you kindly please step outside to meet you doom? Just a matter of insurance, you understand. Thanks for coming, though, stop back in soon!"

What happens next is like a film trick in an old movie--something is there but in a blink it's gone, a jolt of incongruity in one's perception of reality. For the cakes begin to hop on top of each other, and with each impact the two cakes become one, twice as large as before. As the confetti condottieri and carrot crusaders march in orderly rows towards the Great Cake of the Gazebo, they cheerfully hop one after another, after another, after...

That damn cake's bigger than the Cloverton Theater. When it speaks, the effect is something out of Jim Henson, the second and third layers flopping open like an enormous, wedge-shaped mouth.

"FACE ME, KANDY CLOWN, IF YOU DARE! FOR THE DOMAINS OF DESSERT WILL BE MINE ONCE I HAVE PLUCKED THAT CRYSTALLIZED CROWN FROM YOUR SEVERED HEAD!"

The Cliffster turns sheepishly towards the gang.

"So, uh, we're fighting this thing?"

"Hell yeah we are. Nobody tells Mister Fish to take a hike."

The King of Cakes awaits.