That would the symbol for the conjoined version of Mal Duncan and Firestorm after the Zeta Beam accident...
Tony Stark rented out Butter last night for his annual birthday celebration, and this humble reporter counted less that two dozen partygoers.
"I think I know what happened," the beleaguered birthday boy bemoaned. "I e-mailed the invitations on the day that Ultron business happened. Maybe that caused the invites not to go out. That's probably it."
He then fished his cell out of his exquisitely tailored suit and said "I gotta take this," although I don't recall hearing it ring.
"He's been having problems all week," said longtime friend Carol Danvers, who looked visibly uncomfortable. "First, he was unable to book D'Or for the evening. Then Janet Van Dyne called to bow out at the last minute. When I asked if Henry was still going to make it, she yelled 'You ask him!' and hung up."
"I feel bad," she sighed. "This has been a pretty lousy for... I mean, thirty-fifth birthday for him."
The Bugle sent a rather unenthusiastic photographer to take pictures of the event, but after an annoyed phone call to his supervisor he promptly left. Reports of a gorgeous redhead in attendance with said photographer are sketchy.
Still, a few of the heroes, socialites, and b-listers managed to have fun. Newly-inducted avenger Ares was surprisingly enthusiastic:
"Fine maidens, fine food, and an open bar! I am well pleased!" the inebriated, self-styled God of War slurred.
However, his demeanor changed when I told him what paper I worked for. Upon hearing the mention of this s fine paper's name, he promptly grabbed me by the throat and said:
"Hear this, and tell your colleagues! If Gyuss Baaltar refers to me as 'Thor Lite' once more, I'll have his head!"
I didn't stay around long after that.