<div align="center"><em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 24pt;">Metropolis City</span>: Federal Reserve Bank</em></div><br/>The Parvenu<em>loved</em>the rain.  He loved how the greasy clouds churning unpleasantly overhead seemed to transform the world far beneath them into a Wonderland of deep shadows and hazy streetlights.  He loved the smell of ozone wafting through his heavy copper mask, and the way the atmosphere seemed charged with ill portent.  He loved the mist and the steam that rose from the ground as trillions of droplets barreled headlong into the earth.  He loved the chill and the heaviness that gripped his body, and the childish energy that threatened to burst from the shackles of his heart.  He loved the gentle pitter patter of water as it landed upon the thick iron chasse of his horde of grinning metal Deathbots, each the size of several silverback gorillas and brimming with all manner of pointy weapons, electrified batons, and crushing fists.  He loved watching the globules collect together until they could no longer keep themselves in place, streaming down past gears and springs and complex mechanisms.<br/><br/>But most of all, he loved the fact that a certain other man in the city did<em>not</em>love the rain.<br/><br/>The Procacious Parvenu stood regally before the rows of rumbling machines, back straight and shoulders out and gloved fist pressed over his heart, head held high and demanding the obedience of all who gazed upon him.  The effect would have been a bit more impressive if he was a few inches<em>taller</em>and his crimson robes weren't all saggy from the torrential downpour.<br/><br/>He was vaguely aware that people were screaming or running away in the background, but that only spurred him onwards.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">"Number 389!"</span></span>he crowed, gesturing to one Deathbot in the front row that had a face vaguely resembling Richard Nixon.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">"Straighten up a bit!  I'm not going to let the government think I promote bad posture!  I am many things, but weak-spined is not one of them!"</span></span><br/><br/>The robot obeyed immediately, shuffling from side to side and groaning metallically until his head reached the same uniform height as his brethren.  Apparently satisfied, the Parvenu rolled up one sleeve and tapped a rather grandiose wristwatch that kept letting off jets of steam from its winder in small, whistling bursts.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">"Where is he?"</span>the villain muttered, putting his hands on his hips and turning from side to side with an air of impatience.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">"I even sent him an invitation this time!"</span>He paused, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">"Unless..."</span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">"Number 412!"</span></span>he shouted, this time addressing a robot with no discernible head at all.  Then, a bit more worriedly;<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">"You don't suppose that Facebook page isn't actually his, do you?  I mean, it's common for Heroes these days to have them, right?"</span></span><br/><br/>Number 412 just shrugged helplessly, lacking a mouth to answer with.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">"Drat...  Maybe it was just a fanmade page!"</span>the Parvenu moaned, slapping the side of his helmet.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">"I should have realized after Angelina Jolie failed to respond to any of my Wall posts!"</span><br/>