As fate would have it, Bombest was not only on duty but in the lobby when the company blew into the hotel after their bout with the confidence course.
Do-Wop was the first in, though it was difficult to recognize him through the slime and drying mud that were caked on his uniform. He was in undeniably high spirits, though, as he tossed a wad of wet currency on-the front desk and scooped up an entire stack of newspapers from the counter.
“Hey, Super Gnat!” he called at the next figure through the door, recognizable only by her height, or lack thereof. “Give me a hand with this! You know what the captain said. If those baboons track up the lobby, we’ll all have to pay for the cleanup out of our wages.”
The manager watched with interest as the two of them laid a path with newspapers between the front door and the elevators, barely in time as the first wave of Legionnaires burst into view.
“Did you see Brandy’s face when the captain said …”
“I’ll tell you, I never thought I’d live to see …”
“Hey, Bombast! Better call the laundry service and have ‘em send someone over for a pickup. We’ve got a little overtime for them!”
The hotel manager did his best to smile along with the general laughter that followed this comment despite the use of the hated nickname, but it came out looking like a thin-upped grimace.
“Me, I’m ready for a drink or five.”
“Get cleaned up first. Can’t have the civvies see us looking like this!”
One figure detached itself from the jubilant mass and approached the front desk.