Pretty Amazonia and the Brick deadpanned, “No.”
“Do you see any cups?” The woman indicated the naked table.
“Bastard’s blind,” added her partner.
“Using ‘bastard’ is okay?” Jack whispered his way.
“Yeah, that’s piss-mild language these days.”
“Well,” the Great White Hope barged on, oblivious, “this meeting will be very long, considering the fact I have a lot to say.”
“Shock, horror.” That was Pretty Amazonia.
Her boss shot over a glance. “Mmm, well. There is something playing on all our minds right now — there is the matter of death to discuss.”
“Go on,” said the Brick, suddenly serious.
“Well, for one thing, we’ve always —always — had a gentleman’s agreement with the Rotters.”
“What is this, the skies over France in 1917? A gentleman’s agreement…Pfft.”
“A gentlemen’s agreement,” repeated this leader as he stared down the Brick. “No one dies.”
“Nonsense,” Pretty Amazonia said. “Blandos are always copping it.”
The Great White Hope smiled while he spiralled a hand in the air.
“Yes, well, that goes without saying — par for the course and all that! But we must never forget they are the very people we are sworn to protect.” Here he rose to his feet and placed a hand over the place his heart possibly resided. “With great power, comes great responsibility.” That out, he sat down.
Jack stared at the speaker. “Wow. Uncle Ben.”
The man glanced at him. “Eh?”
“The quote. Amazing Fantasy, issue 15, 1962.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You do know you’re citing from a classic comicbook? The one Spider-Man first appeared in. I think it’s also used in the movies.”
The Brick hit the table with his fist, taking out a chunk that clattered across pale parquetry. “I knew it! I knew the geezer was always nicking other people’s lines!”
The GWH looked horrified. “Bah — I don’t have to listen to this complete nonsense!”
“Course you don’t, Napoleon,” the Brick laughed. “You could go hide in your room again. Maybe brush up on more comic quotes while yer there.”
“Better yet,” Pretty Amazonia put in, “let’s invest in a teleprompter.”
This time the Great White Hope jumped to his feet.
“To hell with you. I’m going to find new recruits who actually appreciate this golden land of opportunity and adventure. This meeting is hereby adjourned. Chrysophylax!”
The man was gone in a blink. One moment there, the next M.I.A. Straight away Pretty Amazonia whistled and the Brick waved.
“Toodle-oo.”
“Chrysophylax?”
“Nicked from Tolkien, some silly dragon,” the Brick muttered. “Guy is obsessed with ol’ J.R.R., case you hadn’t noticed. In fact, why the joker hangs out in a world devoted to comics escapes me — wouldn’t he be happier in some tra-la-la fantasy domain?”
Pretty Amazonia laughed. “This is a tra-la-la fantasy domain.”
“No.” The Brick held up a thick, knobbly forefinger. “There’re diff’rent degrees o’ fantasy. That guy’s take gives me the willies.”
“And Chrysophylax?” Jack asked again.
“Ah, ‘Chrysophylax’ is the GWH’s open sesame, the ticket outta this wonderland.”
“His password,” Pretty Amazonia whispered in Jack’s ear.
He nearly jumped — he hadn’t seen her get up. She smiled down, apparently amused by the reaction.
“My singular knack.”
“Teleporting?” While he couldn’t smell brimstone, this told him nothing.
“Superspeed. You’d be surprised by what I can get away with.”
Something — fingers? — caressed the inner thigh of Jack’s left leg. The Brick was a small dot on the other side of the meeting table, and Pretty Amazonia hadn’t moved an inch. Or had she? The smug look on her kisser tilted upward a fraction.
“See?”
“So much for honour,” he mumbled.
“Live a little.”
“You okay, bub?” the Brick called over. “Looks like you seen a ghost.”
“Nah, I’m fine.” Time to press on like nothing happened — even so, Jack kept his mitts covering his lap. “So, Brick, what’s your password?”
“You kiddin’? If I say it aloud, I skedaddle outta here too.”
“His is ‘Geronimo’. Mine’s — well? Mister B, are you going to play ball? Your turn.”