Going up to check on this perverted video archive while awaiting your rendezvous with Green Streak for the infiltration

After getting the remainder of your lunch wrapped up in foil, you and Snowflake head through the still-shattered halls of the Headquarters up to this porn library or whatever it is that Beast Beauty was talking about. With all the super technology around here, you suppose you shouldn't be surprised that they have a camera that can remotely record sex acts, though you don't recall ever signing a consent form for that. After the initial tension you decide you aren't too worried about the possibility some dirty scenes involving you are to be found up there. It was always, for lack of a better word, 'heroic fucking', where serious criminals or villains were involved. Everyone gets a pass for that, right?

Besides seeing if you can get some proof that you aren't on that video Elliot/Shush is trying to blackmail you with, you have another concern. Goldie Glider mentioned that some other heroines were very interested in tracking down who was responsible for the mind-altering song that blanketed a large portion of the city during the Gloomy Sunday incident... which you only did because of the existence of ANOTHER video that had caught you in the act of not-blood-related-but-still-very-unseemly incest. You'd like answers to both of those problems.

It turns out there is a pretty significant guard at this blind hallway Beauty told you about; a full four-man detail in the hallway. They make sure to call in your name before letting you step past. Once you go past them, the rest of the hallway itself seems to be designed to resemble the back alley behind a retro porn shop, appropriately enough, with posters along the walls showing heroines posing. Interestingly, you don't recognize any of the heroines posted.

"That's far enough. What, or should I say who, are you looking for?" a voice comes to you through the small glass window; the inside of that archive room is cloaked in shadow, and you can't see the man speaking except for his gloved hands.

You glance over your shoulder at Snowflake, who gives you her usual surly glare. "Ahem," you start, turning back to the window. "I'm not sure about Snowflake here but I, Thunderbird, am officially B-ranked. I understand that gives me access to this... place?"

The shadowed man drums his fingers on the countertop on the other side of the window. "Yes, it gives you baseline access on a need-to-know basis, but I'm sure you understand, these are quite... private. You have to be A-ranked to view the archive directly. I'm sure you can understand that restriction. Even someone's name showing up in ANY video in the 'M' archive can be pretty embarrassing..."

You furrow your brow and adjust your mask. "Really? I would've thought that the list of heroes who've done lewd things in costume, and the League's full membership list, are pretty much identical."

"Erm..." suddenly the man's voice gets higher pitched, the formerly commanding baritone getting slightly shrill and nervous. "I'm not sure you entirely understand the purpose here. I don't think I'd explain it well... you should ask someone else if you aren't sure what you're looking for, in this archive."

As he bends down, you notice something very ODD about the guy you're speaking to. He's wearing a very large, very awkward... helmet? No, wait - it's a camera. He has a big bulky movie camera on his head! Recognition from long ago flashes in your mind.

"Wait a second! You're... you're that guy from the holographic training scenario! The supervillain who terrorized the city back in the 90s and made dirty movies of the mayor and a bunch of heroines, including Nigh-" you cut yourself off before you say too much.

"Fair enough, I can't complain when someone brings up my sordid past." the camera-headed man says - now you realize that the tinny, electronic quality to his voice isn't from passing through the window, but because his voice is coming from a camera. "I was formerly known as the supervillian 'Smut King', yes. Now, I prefer to call myself the 'Cinema Castellan'. Once my services are no longer required by the League, I'll return to prison and serve out my sentence. But there has been a lot to... document lately. Let me assure you, Thunderbird, this is NOT a repository of pornography, no matter what Beast Beauty or anyone else might've slandered it as. I produce and curate archival footage, for very good reasons, not the least of which is that it's legally required in certain eventualities."

You put your hands on your hips and stare hard at him. Hmm. You suppose you can't justify getting TOO angry with a supervillain who was defeated and 'reformed' two decades ago. You can't blame him for what his hologram did, or for the 'training specialists' who took advantage of you and Dr. Rainbow on the first day you met her.

With a sigh, you lower your voice, hopefully low enough Snowflake can't hear. "I'm... I've changed identities too, recently. I used to be known as 'Nightingale II', but now I'm Thunderbird. Ah... I don't appear in any of those videos, do I?"

Smut King (you can't think of him any other way after seeing his handiwork in that hologram scenario) adjusts the camera lens on his head, in a gesture that is a bit like a normal guy stroking his chin pensively. "It can be hard to keep track at times, there are a lot of tapes. But if you've joined the League within the past couple of years, you definitely aren't in the M-files. Oh, I think you might appear in a film Petite Mort dropped off for the 'B-files'. Those are the ones for potential leverage against supervillains. Blackmail is an ugly word, you know. That's why we abbreviate it."

Ah. That would be your assault on Gloomy Sunday's pussy. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't a little thrilling to be able to humiliate a smug, evil woman like that in front of the camera.

Snowflake pipes up now, sounding curious and a little annoyed. "Maybe villains deserve that kind of treatment, but is there no consent to record for heroes like us? What the fuck, man?"

Smut King splays his fingers apologetically. "My hands are tied. When Maiden America gets back from her latest quest, ask her about it. Aside from blackmail, there can be even more severe consequences if other incidents aren't tracked."

"What from?" Snowflake asks. "What does 'M-files' mean, anyway?"

"Errk!" Smut King stutters a little, sounding almost like an old film reel that's run out and the celluloid started slapping the gears. "It's... I'm... I don't make these decisions, you understand... Could you please ask someone else to explain the system? I really do need to get back to it, I'm trying to clear my backlog since I anticipate needing to edit through a great deal of new footage as a result of the Wonderland Warriors capturing a dozen League members the day before yesterday. I can't afford to fall behind... thanks to the aftermath of the 'Millennium Challenge' back in the year 2000, I'm going to be swamped enough as it is over the next two-to-five years. Not to mention Mistress Wonderful recent turn towards making irresponsible use of her powers when apprehending villainesses..."

All of this is quite cryptic. "Damn it," you say, "I have enough riddles and mysteries to keep straight in my head already, I don't need you throwing more at me."

You rest your hands on the countertop and lean closer, looking him right in the... well, you can't look him in the eye, so you look him in the red 'recording' light above his lens. "Someone recently showed me some photographs of a woman who looked a bit like me, but wasn't me, at a women's clinic, being refused services because she was a League member. If you have film of some of her recent, uh, activities, that can help clear up a misunderstanding."

Smut King wrings his hands. "The archives are organized by name... do you know what this heroine called herself?"

You sigh. "No... I didn't catch it. But it shouldn't be too much of a problem. She was about my height, similar bust size... maybe a little bigger," you grudgingly admit. "And with the same hair as I had as Nightingale. Bright red, neck length. This would've been within the past six months, I'm pretty sure?"

"Do you know anything about her co-star?" Smut King coughs and shakes his head. "Er, I mean- the other person who would've appeared in the film?"

"Hmmm," Smut King adjusts his lens again. "About how old do you estimate this heroine was? 19? Or 22?"

You raise an eyebrow. "That's a pretty damn narrow and specific range... 22, I guess? Does that mean you have it?"

"Ah... that's the awkward part, Miss Thunderbird." Smut King replies apologetically. "I'm afraid I just checked out that particular record to Neon Knight. He and three other heroes are studying it in the soundproof viewing room in the next door down the hall."

You snort and give him a sardonic smirk. "Oh. The soundproof viewing room. Being 'studied' by some random horny guys. Yeah, you're TOTALLY not a pornographer anymore, huh?"

His voice gets shrill again and he answers defensively. "Don't blame the artist for how his work is consumed! Can you imagine how many people have jacked off to the Mona Lisa or the Venus de Milo over the centuries?! Does that make Da Vanci and Alexandros of Antioch 'pornographers' too? Off with you, you judgmental bimbo! I am through getting interrogated by you. The next time you pester me, would you kindly just tell me who or what you're looking for, without all the commentary and accusations?"

You frown slightly. Deciding it's better not to burn your bridges, you walk away from the service window and go down to the door he pointed out. Trying the handle, it's locked. For someone with your superpowers, 'soundproofing' is just a funny joke: you can hear some guys talking and laughing inside. There are no lewd sounds, so they must not have started the video yet, or already finished it.

"Excuse me?" You say, rapping on the door.

"OCCUPIED!" a muffled voice comes back. "WAIT YOUR TURN!"

You knock louder. "I'm on a deadline and I need to know something that might be in that video you have! I don't care what you're doing, just let me in on your study session or whatever you call it!"

There is a pause and some mumbling, then the door opens a crack. You recognize the one inside as Neon Knight, just as stated, by his glowing, all-encompassing armored helmet and gaudy power armor. "Sorry, but this is... kind of a bachelor thing. Bit of a special occasion. My buddy here is involved, and he's not comfortable bringing women in on something like this. It's a privacy thing, you know?"

Neon Knight tries to close the door, but you wedge your foot in it. An evil smirk spreads across your face. "Not comfortable letting any women in, huh? Well, I certainly wouldn't want to disrespect anybody's boundaries."

You pause glance back over your shoulder. "Hey, Snowflake. Go on in there and report back for me, will you?"

Of course, thanks to the cameras and sensors built into Weather Watch high-tech costumes, you'll see everything Snowflake sees.

You step aside. Neon Knight sees the tall, voluptuous 'non-binary person' with tan skin and snow white hair, with a plunging neckline running down the middle of 'their' suit showing off a lithe, sensuous body worthy of inclusion in any swimsuit magazine.

By the way Neon Knight is cursing under his breath, he sees the trap he's walked into. "Listen here, uh, Snowflake..." he starts.

"WHAT?!" Snowflake folds her arms over her firm bustline and juts her jaw out challengingly as you walk away down the hallway, trying not to giggle too obviously.

There is an awkward, uncomfortable silence. Finally Neon Knight speaks in a defeated tone. "Uh... there's some microwave popcorn in the bowl by the door, if you want some..."