The reporter held up a finger wrapped with a white plastic patch that had little anime girl characters dancing across it. They looked like Pretty Amazonia.
“PreCure?” Jack guessed.
“Not the Band-Aid, the finger — the Band-Aid is PA’s, and beside the point.”
“Ahh, that paper cut.”
“Yep. Same one I showed you the other day. The thing got infected, meaning it’s taken longer to fix than a gunshot wound to the stomach. The buggers who gave me the unbalanced self-healing power told me this was its Achilles’ heel, but I think they did it as a twisted joke.”
“I thought your power was to be a super-snoop. The Brick told me.”
“Everyone believes that, but the Brick also isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Doesn’t take any special skill to be a journalist, or a hack detective. Shame is, I didn’t end up with Wolverine’s retractable claws — they’d make great letter openers.”
“So which doctor do I have to thank for saving my life?”
“My sister.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. At least that didn’t hurt so much.
“Pretty Amazonia. Yes, we’re sisters — go figure. She was a surgeon once, before being struck off for what the government said was unethical behaviour.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of unethical behaviour?”
“Saving the life of someone the authorities had blacklisted. Anyway, back to the here and now, PA stitched you and me up both.” Gypsie-Ann shrugged. “Me, she didn’t need to sew. As I mentioned, I would’ve healed all by myself — but I think she got her jollies sticking in the needle.”
Precisely then, Pretty Amazonia strode into the room, still in costume, but with a medical smock tied over the top.
“Ahh, my two favourite patients are awake.”
“Your only patients — since we were unconscious when they delivered us to you.”
“You never looked prettier.” PA squinted her eyes in the reporter’s direction and delivered up an insincere general-practi-tioner’s smile. “By the way, I pinched some of your blood.”
“What are you, a vampire?”
“Not for me, idiot — it was for SC — to help speed his recovery.”
“Like I don’t need to speed my own.”
“What’re you complaining about? You’ll live.”
“I hate doctors.”
The taller sister glowed triumphant.
“Oh, there’s something else, before I forget,” she said, as she came back to earth, delved into the single pocket on her smock, and held up a silver object between two fingers. “Here’s the bullet. Thought you might want to keep it.”
“I’m not one for sentimental jewellery.”
PA ignored the comment to stroll over to Jack’s bed. “How’re you feeling, hon? I can imagine there’s still some pain.”
She slapped his forehead with the back of her hand, possibly checking for signs of a fever, and then shoved a thermometer under his armpit. The woman had the bedside manner of a bear.
“Yeah, I’m aching all over — but thank you. Really,” Jack mumbled during the rough check-up. “Where are we? A hospital?”
“Are you kidding? The Blandos won’t allow us anywhere near a regular hospital — too afraid of reprisal attacks by other Capes, they say, but I suspect they think we’re dirty or something. We’re in a side-wing of Equalizers HQ, a clinic the Big O put together. Never thought we’d need it.”
“I need to use the loo,” Gypsie-Ann piped up.
“Go ahead. You’re not getting a bed-pan from me — out in the corridor, second door on the right.”
After the reporter left the room, PA dragged over a chair to sit beside Jack.
“You know you had us worried for a while there? The shrapnel wound, smoke inhalation, two busted ribs, a punctured lung. Quite a collection.”
“Thank you.”
“You keep saying that. For what? Worrying?”
“For saving my sorry arse.”
“We’re a team.”
“We are.” Still, the man sighed. “By the way, you were right. About Louise, I mean.”
“I’m often wrong. You sure, hon?”
“She hates me.”
“Only if you let her.” The woman put her large, elegant hand over his and she granted him a minor smile. “Get some sleep. You need it.”
“Okay. But tell me something.”
“What now?”
“Anything.”
“You want a bedtime story?”
“That’ll be the day.” Jack pried himself loose and smiled back from the pillow. “So. Tell me about your Pretty Cure shindig — Brick’s warned me I’ll be bored stiff, but I’m up for the grand master challenge. Might help me sleep, anyway.”