Daniel Abraham - Inside Straight

“Hey,” Jonathan said, smiling.

“Hey.” She had a nice voice. Sexy. “Jonathan Hive? That’s what you call yourself? Well, Bugsy, if you ever try to feel me up like that again, I’ll kill you. Okay?”

The woman’s hand vanished in a burst of concentrated flame like a blowtorch and then popped back. She smiled, eyes hard, nodded once, and went back to her seat.

Jonathan turned back to Joe Twitch.

“Oops,” Twitch said.

“Yeah. Oops,” Jonathan agreed.

“You get that often?”

“What? Death threats?”

“Bugsy.”

“Oh, that. Yeah.”

Posted Today 12:18 pm

AMERICAN HERO | EXCITED | “AMERICAN IDIOT” — GREEN DAY

Well, it’s official. I’m in. It’s almost midnight, but this isn’t getting posted until tomorrow sometime. As part of the deal with the network, I’m letting a guy in the legal department vet my blog posts while I’m on the show. Everyone wave to Kenny! (Hi, Kenny!)

[ED: Hi everyone—Kenny]

I’ve just gotten back from the getting-to-know-all-about-you party with my teammates. Chateau Marmont. Very John Belushi-died-here Hollywood chic. All the contestants were present, and there’s twenty-eight of us, so grab your scorecards, kids. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

I sat next to the Candle, whose ace powers appear to involve looking like his hair’s on fire, across from the fattest woman I’ve met in recent memory—the Amazing Bubbles. I’m told that she stores kinetic energy as fat, and was apparently dragged behind a Cadillac before coming to the party, because, oh, my, God. The only one bigger than her was a Southern Baptist preacher in a bariatric wheelchair who calls himself Holy Roller and weighs in at six-hundred-some pounds. Neither of them turn out to be on my team, so I’m just hoping some of the challenges we’re facing involve getting into an elevator.

(On a personal note: Yes, Grandpa, Jetman made it on, and your cap lock key’s stuck again. Ask Gramma to fix it for you.)

After serving us dinner and recording all our conversations and interviewing each of us separately, we got assigned to teams. It wasn’t quite the Sorting Hat, but it had some of that feel. Big ramp-up by Peregrine to each announcement, clapping, cheering, smiles—everyone has a drink, and then the next one up. By the end we were all pretty tipsy, so I imagine we made total assholes of ourselves, pouting and preening for the cameras. Frankly, I was too drunk to remember the details. I’ll just have to catch it when it broadcasts, same as the rest of you.

I’ve been assigned to Hearts because God forbid the media ever do anything with the wild card virus that isn’t a pun. There are three other teams: Diamonds, Clubs, and Spades. We all hugged and learned and grew and pledged to work together as a team until it stops being convenient.

Then we all piled into a limo and rode to our new secret lair. I shit you not. Secret lair.

It’s an old mansion all tricked out to make Big Brother cream himself. Cameras everywhere but the bathrooms (and no bets that there aren’t a couple undocumented features there, too) and a little confessional where we get to gossip and backbite to our dearest, closest confidant: everyone in the freaking world.

Let me introduce the contestants, Johnny. Team Hearts is:

Drummer Boy—aka Michael Vogali. Yes, that Drummer Boy. Percussionist for Joker Plague, seven-foot ohmigod, six arms, more tattoos than a biker’s convention. He spent the whole dinner signing autographs and chatting up an ace who everyone called Pop Tart, but not to her face. Since I don’t listen to Joker Plague and I’m not a thirteen-year-old fangirl, I was unaware that he has six built-in tympanic regions on his chest. Yes, he is his own drum set.

Wild Fox—aka Andrew Yamauchi. Nice enough fella. Apparently can do something with illusions that’s all very thematically appropriate if you know a lot more about Japanese mythology than I do. He’ll be easy to identify when you watch the show. He’s the one with the great big poofy fox tail. Seriously. He has a tail.

Curveball—aka Kate Brandt. Nice-looking girl next door. Anything she throws, she can not only control in flight but detonate on impact. She was showing off a little at the dinner and wound up exploding a water pitcher with a grain of rice. She may have been just an ee-tinsey bit drunk. In all fairness, though, she’s pretty cute when she’s drunk.

Earth Witch—aka Ana Cortez. Another of our carefully ethnically diverse team with, sex-appealwise, a lovely personality and great sense of humor, I’m sure. She can dig holes in the ground with her mind. Yes, I’m not making this up. One of our superheroes is a ditch digger of Mexican extraction. I’m not sure how this got by the Hollywood liberal politically correct establishment, but I think it’s funny as hell. No disrespect intended; some of my best friends are vicious racial stereotypes.

Hardhat—aka Todd “T.T.” Taszycki. Lest we be accused of not having some good old salt-of-the-earth, blue-collar types, there’s Todd. A lifelong construction worker, Todd can create temporary girders with his mind. I’m not sure how he’s going to play on the tube, since I haven’t heard him speak a single sentence yet that was fit for broadcast. Anyone who thinks of the network as “a damn friendly bunch of cocksuckers” is okay by me. (Hey, Kenny, can we say “cocksuckers” on the Internet?)

Gardener—aka Jerusha Carter. She plants things. They grow. Gardener, get it?

And, of course, myself.

Now for the predictions:

First one out is going to be Gardener. Be serious.

“Stop, foul villain, or I shall carpet your lawn with giant daffodils!” How useful is that?

Drummer Boy is also going to be out within the first round or two. The guy’s a rock star. One little thing to tweak his ego, and he’s outta here.

And for evil team dynamics, keep your eye on Earth Witch versus Curveball. Earth Witch isn’t the kind of girl that gets asked out to the dance, and Curveball… well, like the poet said, everyone has a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room.

There’s gonna be blood. Count on it.

80 COMMENTS | POST COMMENT

FROM THE DESK OF REBECCA LIEBERMAN

from: Becca

to: Michael Berman

re: American Hero promo copy

Hey, Mike.

Here’s the promotional copy and head shots for the American Hero print campaign, for your approval. Please get your tweaks and changes back to me by the 17th. Thanks. (There’s two head shots for Tiffani, you’ll notice, one normal and one where she’s gone diamond. Let me know which one you want to use. Oh, and Alan wants to tint Toad Man green in his head shot, though it’s my understanding that he’s only green as a toad. What do you say?)

There will be four broadsheets, one for each team. We’ll be slapping them on buses in the top twenty media markets, as well as the El in Chicago, the NYC subway, and most major airports. We’ll also be using them as full-page ads in People, Us, Entertainment Weekly, Daily Variety, Hollywood Reporter, Aces, TV Guide, Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, Parade , and assorted Sunday supplements. If Drummer Boy survives the first few cuts and makes a good run, I might be able to get him the cover of Rolling Stone as well.

We’re also planning a major giveaway of promotional T-shirts the week that AH premieres. Each shirt will have the picture of a contestant on the front, with the team slogan and emblem on the back. The idea is one to a customer, so we can track the demand and get a better idea which contestants are most popular. And the deal with Burger King’s about to close, so we’ll also have a line of special promotional cups. Be the first kid on your block to collect all twenty-eight. We’ll be tracking those, too.