The building unofficially nicknamed "Hero Headquarters v3.0" (since it was their third headquarters so far, albeit temporary) as well as "Fish Factory" by the less tactful members of the group was also "Hangover City" this morning. Last night had been New Year's Eve, and excess -- whether it be alcoholic or sexual, or whatever -- was allowed. Too many people partook in whatever they'd wished last night and were paying for it with hangovers and headaches today. Unfortunately for them, it was a work-day. MBL Consulting had a mission to do, and there was no putting it off. It had to be done now. And, after such a lengthy period since the last real mission he'd been on several months ago now, Chance couldn't be happier about it.
Chance allowed himself to sleep in a bit late this day, though truthfully he always finds it hard to sleep in this building. It wasn't just the constant smell of fish that seemed to permeate everything through and through -- that was something you almost but not quite got used to -- it was just that it didn't feel like "home". As it was merely temporary lodgings, it couldn't ever really feel like home. Just like staying in a hotel room for weeks and months on end, it was difficult to get to sleep in these surroundings, away from the comforts of home, and he always slept lightly here.
Another thing: Though Blackwulf had done his best at retrieving a lot of the equipment from the old building, it was still very second-rate stuff. Virtually all the funds coming out of the Hero Revolution Foundation (which had been Pete "the Chimp" Glover's personal fortune and was now collectively owned by the members of MBL Consulting -- in a non-Communist way, y'understand -- and provided whatever fundage the group or individuals needed) were going into the bare necessities -- food, rent, etc -- and into the building repair work. There wasn't much left over for the luxuries, like security systems (though Grissom had managed to make do with what meager equipment was available) or exercise equipment which -- let's face it -- wasn't really being used by anyone except Chance anyway.
Ah well. It gave Chance an opportunity to get out of that dank, smelly building and get his exercise out in the fresh air.
La Perdita, this jewel in the Lesser Antilles Islands of the Caribbean, really held beauty like none other Chance had ever seen before. The lush, tropical climate which never got too clammy due to the proximity of the ocean was simply perfect. The long, quiet beaches of white sand which stretched around the island, broken only in places by beach-houses, the city, and a few small villages, not to mention the odd cove here and there, could be explored for hours. Chance tried to get as much swimming in as he could while the group was so close to the beach. At one point he found what appeared to have been a pirate's cove a couple of hundred years ago, back when La Perdita was a lawless pirate dwelling. He kept on meaning to get back there and explore it further, but he never quite made the time for it.
And then there was the volcano itself. It was an active volcano which slowly spewed lava, like that of other tropical islands, but did not have the danger of exploding as land-based volcanoes did -- they were just made of different materials and didn't operate the same way. The volcano was utterly fascinating. A tribe of Carib natives lived in a small village at the foot of the volcano and closely guarded its secrets. It was said that at one time they had worshipped the volcano god and even sacrificed virgins to it... (and according to some rumors this practice continued to this day)...
Chance made his way through the lush jungle this morning rather than head down to the beach, passing by several children playing on the road who waved at him as he ran by.
"Hi Chance!" they shouted, calling his name and hoping he had brought something for them.
"Hey kids!" Chance said, running on. The kids stopped shouting as he passed them and seemed a bit disappointed. Then, Chance put his hand in his pocket and flicked out a handful of chocolate bars back at the kids. Though he'd thrown them all at once randomly, they each went to one kid as if by luck.
Chance loved the kids here. Unlike the kids in the wealthier countries of Western Europe or North America, or even in urban Puerta Mibela, these kids were very generous. They shared everything they were given with their friends and asked nothing in return -- they didn't need to, as sharing came naturally to everyone here. It was an interdepency upon everyone else in the community that kept these people together. Even the community as a whole was as responsible as the parents to raise the kids -- everyone just helped out their neighbors in whatever they needed, without any sense of shame over receiving "charity" as everyone knew that their society couldn't exist without everyone being able to rely on each other. Somehow, as people became wealthier, they lost that sense of generosity and community in the name of "fierce independence"; everyday helpfulness had been replaced in many places by "services rendered, now pay up or I'll sue!" These young kids -- and this town itself -- have a lot to teach the rest of us, he thought to himself as he continued jogging.
