Considering the carnivorous-bikini-wearing tousle-haired no-toed blond apparently grooving to her own crazy beat; the crouching, leering, perverted toad behind the man with the silly frilly cape; the half-naked muscle-bound oaf at the rear; the pink and orange-wearing lecherous mariachi player; and the nudist glowing girl just off-panel to the left, I wouldn't blame you for suspecting that this is actually some sort of super-villain swinger's club. Can Lube-Lad be far away? The room is literally packed with super-villains, all of whom are gathered to plan Silver Star's defeat, but I'm pretty sure that's just an excuse for them all to get funky.
Regardless, if the man in red and blue is indeed the Emcee as his letter logos would have you believe, there's no way this party is going to rock. No one with that kind of massive upper-body musculature who would wear a butt-length cape like that can possibly have anything but disco in their music collection, and even Dr. Lightning Arrow Fellow behind him is turning away in disgust. And when you've lost the Shaft Master, you've really lost your groove, baby.
Not to mention how bad the guitar playing from our masked color-blind minstrel must be. Honestly, if you can't tell that pink bows clash with orange frilly lace piping, you have no chance of making it in the gay musical villain business. I would bet his only real super-power is Sartorial Suckage, striking disgust in the heart of the fashionable. Throw in the fact that even if you score in this crazy villain sex-club hangout, the woman will eat your "sidekick" with her drooling demon facegina, and you've got yourself a recipe for night club disaster, my friend.
No wonder most super-villains work alone.
(Image and characterfrom “Silver Star”, No. 1, ©1993, Jack Kirby.)