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The Danger Depot, as Nightfall had insisted on naming it, wasn’t
exactly the ideal superhero base - which, she’d often argued, was what
made it the ideal superhero base. Sure, she could’ve sprung for some
fifty-story crystalline monolith decorated with titanic marble statues
of herself (and maybe a few of her teammates), but a place like that was
just begging to be attacked by supervillains, and she wasn’t interested
in shelling out hundreds of millions of dollars every time they needed
to repair some battle damage.
Instead, she’d purchased a modest two-story office building in downtown Vista City, recently renovated and modified to include some basic living facilities. It was hardly glamorous - hell, most of the repair budget went toward painting over the insulting graffiti people kept spray-painting on the side of the building - but it didn’t need to be. Besides, as the only member of the Danger Dancers who didn’t operate out of Vista City, Nightfall herself rarely used the place. The only time she ever set foot inside the Danger Depot was when one of the other Dancers called a team meeting.
Unfortunately, Ultimaid had requested a team meeting this morning, which meant instead of leaping from rooftop to rooftop putting the fear of God into Harken City’s criminal underbelly, Nightfall was stuck sitting in an uncomfortable office chair while seven other heroes and heroines crowded into a cramped conference room with her. Well, technically six heroes and heroines and one robotic superweapon-turned-secretary, but that wasn’t relevant right now.
