[ WP ] One side of your family is filled with superheroes . The other side of your family is filled with supervillains . Thanksgiving sucks .

`` Come on in, Aunt Sarah,'' said Jacob, stepping aside and pulling the door open. 
 
 As Sarah walked in, grinning at Jacob with all 32 of her teeth, Adam followed behind, trying to straighten his gray sport coat. 
 
 `` You must be Adam,'' Jacob said, awkwardly shaking the man's left hand, as his right was supporting a casserole dish. 
 
 `` Uh, yes,'' said Adam, re-positioning the dish, `` You're Jacob, right? Cassandra's son?'' 
 
 `` That's me,'' Jacob said. `` Marvel, once-removed.'' 
 
 `` That joke *never* gets old, dear,'' said Sarah, planting a not all that aunt-like kiss on Jacob's cheek and gliding decadently away down the hall. 
 
 `` You've got your hands full in more ways than one,'' Jacob said sotto-voce to Adam, relieving him of the casserole and walking off down the hallway after Sarah. 
 
 As Adam closed the door behind him and began to trail after, he could n't help but notice the strangely normal decor of the house, off-set by the occasional framed newspaper clipping or umbrella stand with a pulse rifle stuffed haphazardly into it. Nearing the end of the wood paneled hallway, a cacophony of voices grew louder and louder. 
 
 `` But vhen we found out that ze diamonds vere all fakes,'' said a heavily-accented male voice, barely containing laughter. `` Ve just shrunk ze entire building and ransomed ze contents of ze other boxes back to ze owners!'' 
 
 A burst of raucous laughter followed, along with a strange mechanical wheezing sound like hydraulic brakes being released. The semi-dark hallway opened into a brightly-lit dining room with a long wooden table, around which an exceptional group of lively characters were seated. 
 
 There on the end was Sergeant Marvel himself, dressed down in a loosely buttoned shirt and looking like a normal guy with a pilsner glass in one hand. Next to him was Sarah's sister Cassandra, more commonly known as Lady Marvel. On his other side was, surprisingly, Baron Despair, dressed in a subdued blood-red tuxedo. Despite the pair's long-standing rivalry, the Baron and Sergeant Marvel seemed perfectly amicable as they continued to listen to the story. The storyteller, seated at the other end of the food-laden table between Stephamine Epidemic and Commander Justice, was none other than Drakomire von Vespe, the scourge of Eastern Europe. 
 
 `` Why do n't you take a seat over here,'' Jacob said, setting down Adam's casserole dish and indicating a vacant seat. `` Sarah will want to sit next to Bill.'' 
 
 Bill, or Will Power, was casually occupying two nearby seats, and seemed to be bending and straightening the carving fork out of boredom. 
 
 `` Thank you,'' said Adam, pulling in his chair behind him and trying not to make eye contact with the figure in the chemical hood and gas mask seated across from him. Sarah was making a slow circuit of the room, touching shoulders and planting kisses on cheeks. 
 
 `` So,'' said Furious Rage, who was seated next to the man wheezing in the chemical hood. `` You're the guy Sarah finally tied herself to.'' 
 
 `` Uh, yeah,'' said Adam. `` I guess so.'' 
 
 `` Should ve call you'MISTER Ocelot'?'' said Drakomire, his shrinking building story having obviously ended. 
 
 `` More like Mr. Oce-little,'' said Adam, having prepared the comment in advance. 
 
 There was a brief silence in the room, then Hraag the Unwounded bellowed out in laughter and slammed his hand on the table. Everyone seemed to have set aside the fact that Hraag was supposed to be currently imprisoned in a space diamond, and joined in appreciation of Adam's feeble joke. 
 
 `` What's in that casserole, Adam?'' came the melodious tones of The Firebrand, who had ignited her hair for the occasion. 
 
 `` Oh, uh,'' Adam stammered. `` Three-bean casserole. My grandmother's recipe.'' 
 
 `` Ooh,'' exclaimed Stephamine Epidemic, her sunken cheeks tinged with a wine blush. `` Did you finally nab one who can cook, Sarah?'' 
 
 `` He can do more than cook,'' said Sarah, her eyes shining venomously at the other woman. 
 
 Adam tried to sink into his chair, but was spared from the group's attention when the man in the gas mask jumped to his feet. As Adam took in his thickly gloved hands and heavy canvas jumpsuit, he suddenly recognized the figure. 
 
 The Festering Abomination made a wide sweep of his hands, gouts of fire appearing from seemingly nowhere behind him and casting malevolent shadows on the dining room wall. 
 
 `` I,'' came a wretched hiss filtered through the mask. `` Have prepared a device concocted of macerated nightshade, mixed with the curdled emissions of a foul beast and topped with herbs soaked in acid which I reduced to a viscous jelly.'' 
 
 `` Ooh,'' cooed Sarah, taking her seat next to Adam and leaning over a large steel bowl. `` Uncle Fes made his caprese salad.'' 
 
 `` Stuffing, Adam?'' asked Will Power, the bowl looking like a shot glass in his enormous fist. 
 
 `` Please,'' said Adam.
