Jago & Litefoot & Peggy (7)

Litefoot watched as the bell impacted on the floor below, cracking and denting the marble tiles. Flecks of stone were bounced upwards as splinters of wooden beams fell down in the bell's wake. The bell itself crumbled significantly, with a horrendous cacophony echoed throughout the church structure.
"Ask not for whom the bell tolls..." mused Litefoot to himself. After a brief pause, he added.
"How the Devil am I going to get down from here?!"

Jago abruptly stopped playing the church organ, falling to his knees and clasping his hands over his ears. Trying in vain to shut out the incapacitating ring of impacted steel. At the altar, Ulysses was also reeling in agony, and he dropped his weapon out of fear and surprise. The priest was tossed aside, and as he lay on the ground, was struck by a particularly large mass of debris. Peggy, seemingly unperturbed by the noise, charged at the distracted Ulysses, wrapping her arms about his waist and driving him backwards towards the altar. The both collided with the stone table, though he absorbed most of the impact. Ulysses was out out cold.

Peggy set about restraining the prone villain as Jago staggered towards her.
"Damn and blast!" he boomed, in her general direction. "Can't hear a bally thing, save for this accursed ringing in my ears! Say, why do you seem so unaffected by that cacophonous calamity caused by my colleague?"
For a few moments Peggy didn't acknowledge Jago's presence. With a start, she turned to find him alongside her.  Raising a hand to her ear, she withdrew a small flesh tones device.
"Earplugs." she explained. "Electronic and noise cancelling, the handiwork of Mr. Stark. Handy for air travel, especially when you travel as often as I do."
"Air travel... Humans soaring through the blue yonder as birds of prey. The wonders of the future..." Jago muttered to himself.

"Geronimo!" exclaimed a voice from the heavens, as Litefoot shimmied down the rope which used to be connected to the bell's chime. "Sorry to drop in like this."
"You've been waiting to use that one, haven't you?" asked Jago, smiling at his friend's return.
"Unfortunately yes. I didn't want to come down before I had prepared a pithy remark."
"Next time, best leave it to the professionals though."

"Over here!" called Peggy, interrupting the banter. "The priest is injured."
"Let me examine him, I am a medical professional." answered Litefoot.
"Though his speciality is those who are post mortis, typically." added Jago.
"Not now, Henry!"
"Sorry. Quite right Professor."
Litefoot removed his jacket, using it to support the priest's head. Peggy tore off a strip of cloth from the alter cover, and began to compress the man's head wound.
"Laceration to the temple, the chap is unconscious, probably concussed. Jago! Head outside, fetch an ambulance. This man needs a hospital."

Roughly an hour later, the trio had regrouped outside the church. The priest, a Father Crowley, had been transferred to St. Bart's for observation, while Ulysses was in police custody, and the sonic cannon in the hands of Howard Stark.
"Is that it?" asked Jago.
"What do you mean, old boy?"
"It's just, normally our cases are not wrapped up so succinctly."
"If I were you Mr. Jago, I'd just be grateful that this mess is over with." added Peggy.
"It's been an honour working with you two."
"Likewise, Miss Carter." said Litefoot. "You know, you remind me of our friend, Ellie."
"Sharp as a tack, hard as nails and good as gold!" concurred Jago.
"And, you've both saved our lives. I think you two would get along quite well."
"There's an idea! Ellie & Peggy, female fighters of ferocious fiends, defenders of the Earth."
"You must come along with us to Ellie's. She runs a restaurant not too far from here. You'd be more than welcome."
"A tempting offer, I'm sure. But..." Peggy protested.
"Nonsense, it's a time tested tradition to taste libationary liquids at the end of a case!"
"Well, if you insist. It would be churlish to refuse such an offer, after all."

Shortly thereafter, they all found themselves outside of Higgie's restaurant.  It was still relatively early in the day, so the place was empty of patrons. The only people inside were Ellie herself, and a dark haired serving girl.
"Ah, if it isn't the effervescent Ellie!" exclaimed Jago. "We'd like you to meet a friend of ours. Ellie, say hello to Miss Peggy..." Jago petered out, noticing that Peggy was instead staring at the waitress.
"English! Fancy meeting you in a place like this. It's been too long, how the hell are you?" she spoke at a rapid pace, with a New York accent.
"Angie? Is it really you?" asked Peggy in response. The two women ran towards each other, and embraced warmly.

In a hospital room at St. Bart's, a nurse was about to finish her rounds for the night. She entered the room of her final patient, a priest who had been rushed in earlier that day. He'd been catatonic since he'd been admitted, she thought to herself. Shouldn't take long to check on him before she could head home. She froze upon entering the room. The bed was empty! Startled, she spun around, preparing to summon a doctor to the room.

Blocking her path in the gloomy room was a figure in a hospital gown, head bandaged and white hair messy and unkempt. He spoke, gruffly, and rapidly.
"Heathens. Heathens must be purged in the cataclysm. I am the chosen, the herald of Judgement Day, the prophet of the apocalypse. He speaks to me, he has called me to carry out his work in this cesspit of sin and vice."
"Sir... Please, return to bed. I'll fetch the doctor..."
"No doctor can cure the excess of this world. Nobody an carve out the tumour of your sin, except me."
Something sharp and metal glinted in his hand. Before she could cry out, he had slit her throat.

Jago & Litefoot & Peggy shall return in;

JPL: The Second Coming.

Jago & Litefoot & Peggy (6)

"Jago, since you seem to have developed something of a rapport with the gentleman, you shall act as a distraction." explained Litefoot hurriedly. "Allowing me to make my way into the bell tower."
"At which point," continued Peggy, "I shall become the distraction, so Jago can get to the pipe organ."
"Then, during the calamitous cacophony of campanology and clerical chords, Miss Carter can tackle the brute!"

"Do you intend to remain hidden there all day, like sheep in the snow?" came a boastful voice from the altar. "Please enact whatever pitiful plan you have no doubt concocted soon. I have a Stark to slay."
Jago stepped out from behind the pew, to face Ulysses. His mustachioed jowls quivering with fear, though he stood his ground firmly.
"Ha, you call that pathetic patter villainous dialogue? You're nothing but a hack, I wouldn't even hire someone with your lack of talent for the January pantomime!"

"What?! What are you babbling on about, you semi-shaved baboon?" Ulysses felt himself loosing control of the situation. He had faced many threats in his coloured past, but never anything so confusingly bizarre.

"There, pertinently proving my prudent point. Your application of apposite alliteration leaves much to be desired. Have you ever considered a career treading the boards? I wouldn't waste my time if I were you."
"Silence! You will be silent! I should kill you right now."
"How exactly would killing me, or anyone here bring you closer to your intended target? I've faced more competent and capable criminals than you, who've just wanted to pinch my wallet.... Corks!"

Jago threw himself to the ground again, as the irate Ulysses fired another sonic blast. The air which Jago had occupied moments before rippled with energy, before calming. "Are you dead? Do we finally have peace and quiet?"

Peggy Carter sighed inwardly. She'd had enough ham-to-ham combat when Howard was involved. She only hoped Jago had bought enough time. She stepped forward into the spot where Jago had stood.
"Nobody else has to die Ulysses. Please, hear me out. I can grant you access to Howard, if that's what you want. Just don't harm anyone else."

"And why should I trust a... viper, such as yourself? You seem poisonous, deceitful..." He was wary, but his attention was focused on Peggy. She took a subtle glance downwards, Jago had moved out of sight.
"Because I work for Mr. Stark. He's a swindler, a lecherous fool and a despicable boss. I would like to see him dead."

Jago made his way quickly and quietly to the alcove that housed the enormous church pipe organ. He took a quick glance behind him. Miss Carter was still occupying Ulysses. Of Litefoot, he could see no sign, but surely enough time had passed?
"Blimey!" exclaimed Jago, looking at the organ. "Haven't tinkled the ivories since Mrs. Featherbottom dropped out on Sunday matinee. Then again, I hardly need classical training for this concerto."
He pressed as many keys as his two hands could reach. After holding this note, he switched to the keys he had not yet pressed, upping the intensity. A wailing howl emanated from the old instrument, and Ulysses was momentarily stunned.

In the rafters of the bell tower, Litefoot was gasping for breath. 

"I hadn't imagined that this tower would be so extensive..." he sighed. He had just reached the bell as Jago began his composition. Litefoot scrabbled to the ropes that operated the bell, to find them disconnected. A sign on a nearby wall mentioned that the bell was decommissioned due to rot of the supporting structure.

"Dash it all! This bell is missing it's ringer!"

Looking around for an alternative method, he spied the supporting beam holding the bell in place, and the rot therein. Litefoot clambered up above the bell, and began thrashing the beam with his cane.

"Please forgive me." he mused as the supports gave way. The massive bell, easily 15ft wide fell down below, clattering and echoing throughout the church structure as it plummeted. 

Jago & Litefoot & Peggy (5)

Litefoot continued to chase the assailant through the London streets, as the pair forced their way through the crowds. Any member of the public bold or careless enough to approach the man received a burst from the sonic cannon that he wielded. Mercifully, as far as Litefoot was concerned, he seemed unable to accurately aim it behind himself.
"None can stop Ulysses, even you old man!" the man cried.
"There's a bit of life left in this cadaver yet!" retorted Litefoot. "And you have my word as a medical professional."
Ulysses swore to himself. He really should have put more distance between him and the old man by now. The weight of his weapon must be slowing him down more than expected. There was only one thing for it, he would have to stand his ground and fight. But not out in the open, someplace defendable. Scanning the buildings around him, he noticed one standing out from the assorted shopfronts. A perfect place for a last stand.

"Come along! We're gaining on them." Peggy called back to her companion. A distance behind her, Jago was out of breath.
"I'm not exactly engineered for such extraneous exertion. My skills are better suited to the oratory arts!" He responded, though hoping she wouldn't hear it.
"Mister Jago, I'd hardly call the daring rescue of your friend 'extraneous', let alone stopping a madman from harming innocents. Get a shift on!"
"Quite right Miss Carter! For George, eh?"
"Was that supposed to be a joke?"
"Look! It seems the ruffian is heading for that church. And Litefoot is in pursuit!"

Litefoot heaved open the church doors, and rushed inside. He was only moments behind Ulysses. The church was mercifully devoid of practitioners at this hour, he noted, no bystanders in harms way. Ahead of him, standing before the alter was the cove Ulysses, holding his weapon up to an unfortunate priest.
"Stay where you are, old man. Or this holy father will die."
"Easy now, old boy." urged Litefoot, his arms outstretched in a calming fashion.
"Nobody needs to get hurt. But if you came here looking for sanctuary, I'm afraid you'll find none."
"I came here for a hostage. Now I have two!" Ulysses turned his weapon on George, smiling menacingly.
"It'll do you no good. My ally is likely outside as we speak. And the authorities will have you surrounded soon enough. Give up now, before anyone is injured, and there may be some clemency for your actions."
"Hah! And where was the clemency when Howard Stark killed millions? When his weapons were turned on my people? Where were your authorities then?"

"George!" Boomed Jago, as he burst into the church. "No point in provoking a parlay  with this madman, he's long since lost to reason. Now you sir, you'll unhand that priest if you know what's good for you!"
"Or what? What will you do, you blustering oaf? You blunder in here, defenceless and expect me to just submit?"
"Well, that's not entirely accurate, you vile and vacuous villain! I can do this. Down George!" Jago grabbed his friend and pulled him down and to the left, to take cover behind the nearest pew. In his wake,  Agent Carter stepped forward, pistol extended. Three bullets exploded forward, aimed at the torso of Ulysses with military precision.

In a desperate defensive manoeuvre, Ulysses fired his outstretched weapon back at Peggy, in a concentrated burst. The bullets never reached him.
"Hah! Sonic vibrations, thank you, I had yet to test such a feature. All sound is merely vibration. Resonant vibrations can cause physical objects to oscillate rapidly with exponential amplitudes. In this case, shaking your primitive pellets apart at a molecular level!" Agent Carter flung herself behind the same pew as Jago & Litefoot.

"Well, that could have gone better." she remarked.
"It was a good diversion though Jago." said Litefoot.
"Dash it all, what are we going to do now?" asked Jago, dejectedly.
"If we put our minds to it, surely we can find some alternative strategy" urged Peggy. "After all Mister Jago, you told me that you two had some experience with this sort of thing."
"We specialize in a more supernatural strain of situation on the whole, Miss Carter. And we're a little out of our element, in more ways than one."
"Henry is correct, but we do diversify." explained Litefoot. "And I do have one idea. When in doubt, use an enemy's power against them."

Jago & Litefoot & Peggy (4)

As Litefoot ran in pursuit of the villainous cove, Jago rushed to the side of the prone Peggy Carter. He shrugged off his suit jacket to use as a makeshift pillow, and crouched down to check her pulse. Peggy came too as Jago reached for her hand. She pulled her arm away from him, a momentary look of disgust evident on her face.

"Please madam, try to remain still. You've taken a rather nasty tumble." insisted Jago.
"Who are you calling madam? My name is Peggy Carter. Agent Peggy Carter. I don't take kindly to being treated like a madam, I'm a government agent, not some sleazy Vaudeville act!"
"There's nothing wrong with some vicarious Vaudeville entertainment, Ms Carter. I'll have you know that I'm a talented, top-notch theatrical impresario and a temporary TV master of ceremonies."
"Fascinating, I'm sure" said Peggy, nonplussed. "But if you'll excuse me, I have a criminal to apprehend."
"I'm sorry, but as a gentleman, I cannot let you endanger yourself like that. You've incurred an incapacitating injury, I can't in good conscience let you leave here."
"Incapacitating my foot! I've withstood far worse torture than that in my duty. Not that a 'gentleman' such as yourself would care. You just want to play hero and dote over some damsel in distress, I know your type. You dinosaurs will always linger on, I suppose."

The verbose and vocal Henry Gordon Jago was once at a loss for words, his mouth silently flapping with embarrassment. Eventually, he spoke.
"My sincerest apologies if I have offended you, Ms Carter, it was entirely unintended."
"That's the problem though. The unintentional bigotry, the unspoken assumptions of our place in society. But don't worry about it, mister. I've long since gotten used to it. I know my place, but I also know my worth."

"Again, sorry for any offense. I merely assumped you might like some assistance, while my colleague chases down that cretinous cove who did this."
"It's ok, really. I'm sure you had the best of intentions, Mr...?"
"Henry Gordon Jago, ma'am. At your service."
"Hang on, did you mention a colleague?"
"Yes, a Professor George Litefoot. A most remarkable and righteous fellow, and my prodigious partner in potential paranormal perception, shady and sinister supernatural sleuthing, and generally investigating infernal incidences."

Peggy sighed inwardly. She hated dealing with amateur types, especially the fanatical ones.
"You mean to tell me that this Litefoot of yours has gone after the man wielding Howard's sonic cannon?!"
"If that's what you can the chap who barged in here with his stupifying soundwave generating gubbins, then yes."
"Well, I must get after them then. The fool is putting himself and others at risk. You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?"
"This is not our first criminal caper we've had to sort out, Ms Carter. I have every faith in George. But if you insist on helping, I insist I accompany you."
"Follow if you want, just don't slow me down."

Peggy picked up her fallen weapon, readjusted her hat, and dusted herself off, before rushing outside. It seemed the trail would be easy to follow, at least. A rmtrail of broken glass snaked it's way through London, heading northwards. Peggy tore off in pursuit, with Jago scrambling after her.

Jago & Litefoot & Peggy (3)

The wine bar erupted with panic and confusion, as the patrons rushed to escape the hail of glass shards that had blown inwards. As people fled out of the venue, one male figure was noticeable by their lack of movement. He stood upon the threshold, ignoring the flurry of activity around him. He was dressed in deep blue biking leathers, and holding in his arms a long cylindrical device with a concave dish at one end. He spoke with a strong, deep, and slightly accented voice.
"Stark! You will pay for your sins!"

Amidst the chaos, Peggy Carter remained resolute. In a fraction of a second, she had surveyed the situation. Howard was in danger, an armed assailant stood outside, and the crowd were rushing outwards.
"Mr. Jarvis! Take Howard out through the kitchens. Get yourselves far from here!"
"But Ms. Carter..."
"Now, Jarvis! I can handle this character."
Knowing better than to argue with a force of nature, Jarvis led Howard quickly away though a swinging door at the rear of the bar.

This retreat did not go unnoticed by the figure wielding the sonic cannon. He roared in frustration and charged forwards, intending to follow his quarry. After a few steps he froze again, noticing the barrel of a gun aimed directly at him. Peggy stared him down, with a crippling glare. She began to speak, keeping her pistol trained on the leatherbound assailant.
"Would you kindly drop your weapon? There's a good chap. On the authority of SHIELD, I'm placing you under arrest for reckless endangerment, attempted murder, and conspiracy to terrorise. You have the right to remain silent, anything you do say could be considered resisting arrest. Trust me, you don't want to see what happens to you then."
"Foolish woman! You defend a monster such as Stark? The monster of mechanism? The designer of destruction? The man whose devices have been used to destroy countless lives!"
"On the contrary, I defend a room full of innocent bystanders from a man wielding a weapon. Especially when that weapon is untested."

Peggy knew she had to stall this guy just a little longer. Jarvis needed time to get Howard far enough away, and she couldn't risk attacking until the patrons were out of range. Thankfully, she noted that the bar was almost empty, save for two older gentlemen observing the situation. Unfortunately however, the activity had drawn a larger crowd of bystanders who were gathering outside.
"None of these people deserve to be hurt. So why don't you just lower your weapon, and we can discuss this in a civil manner."
"Silence! You stall to protect Stark. Enough lies!"
The man pulled the trigger of his cannon. The air between him and Peg shimmered briefly, as she cried out in pain. Peggy fell to her knees, suffering under the onslaught of discordant sound. She couldn't think, head full of noise, mind full of torment and turmoil. As she fell to the ground, her military instincts held out for a brief moment, as she fired a single shot from her pistol. The bullet struck her assailant in the left shoulder, causing him to lower his weapon too. With a snarl, he ran out of the bar again, pushing through the crowds.

Meanwhile, Jago & Litefoot had been observing the commotion since the criminal cove had attacked. They had been poised to intervene until weapons were drawn, forcing the pair to bide their time. They watched in horror as Agent Carter was struck by a direct blast of the sonic weapon, and subsequently slumped to the floor, unconscious and unmoving.

PGL: "Henry, we must get after that ruffian at once!"
HGJ: "Are you sure Litefoot? He seems like a particularly dangerous sort. Perhaps this is best left to the authorities?"
PGL: "Nonsense! This is just the sort of strange event our particular talents are best suited for. Don't tell me you haven't missed our adventures."
HGL: "Well, not exactly... But I'll admit that my appetite for adventure has wained somewhat following that business with the frogs."
PGL: "Well, I'm off in pursuit of the blighter. You can remain here and see to that poor lady he attacked. That might be better suited to your expertise."
HGJ: "Oh Corks! Alright Professor, good luck. I'll be right behind you as soon as I've sorted the sorry situation seen before us. Please try to avoid confronting this cruel cove, George. I am too fond of you for you to suffer at his hand."

Jago & Litefoot & Peggy (2)

A debonair man wearing a crisp tan suit sat at a table in the Hoopy Frood. He sipped from a drink filled with bright fruit, and a colour as luminous as the walls, while he scanned the room. His gaze sought out the ladies of the establishment, but today he needed to meet one woman in particular. This was indeed Howard Stark, industrialist, genius, weapons manufacturer, womanizer and part time media mogul. The latter mostly as an excuse to jet around the world in the company of beautiful actresses, while writing it off as a tax expense. Sitting beside him with a decidedly more nervous demeanour was his similarly well dressed companion and butler, Edwin Jarvis. Jarvis wrung his hands in mild frustration while glancing repeatedly at his watch. It was unlikely Ms Carter to be late, and the waiter at the bar had absolutely no idea of the correct method of pouring wine. He was about to go and instruct him as to his shortcomings when Howard leapt to his feet.

"Peg! It's been some time, so good to see you again! Glad you could join us." Howard extended his hand to shake the hand of the approaching figure, before pulling her closer into a light embrace.
"I'm glad to see that no matter how much times change, you remain as constant and immutable as ever." responded the female figure, smiling at her old friend. Agent Peggy Carter, founder of SHIELD, had worked closely with Howard during WW2 and beyond. Although since the war, she had mostly be cleaning up his messes after his "toys" ended up in the wrong hands. Peggy wore a striking blue coat, with a large, wide-brimmed scarlet hat covering her immaculate hair.

The trio returned to sit at the table again.
Agent Carter was the first to speak.
"Mr. Jarvis, my  old friend. It's such a joy to meet you again."
"The feeling is mutual, Ms. Carter, believe me. My life has been somewhat less exciting since our last adventure."
"For which I'm sure your wife is pleased. How is Anna?"
"She is quite well, Ms. Carter. Somewhat overworked and stressed of late, but in good health."
"Jarvis here has something of a new career at present. Go on, tell Peg your news." interjected Howard, with a knowing wink.
"You mean to say you're no longer an eternal butler to the eternal man-child? Howard, how do you cope?" questioned Peggy, displaying uncharacteristic suprise.

Jarvis blushed a deep crimson, before responding.
"I've taken more of an advisory role in Howard's affairs, except for significant occasions. Otherwise I'm just a manager for Mr Stark's new team of manservants. I've needed to take a step back and spend more time with my darling Anna."
"Is everything all right Mr. Jarvis?" asked Peggy.
"Dont worry, Ms. Carter. It's for the best of resasons, really. She, er, we, um... We have a daughter."
Peggy's eyes widened in shock.
"But, I thought..."
"Oh no, it's not our biological child. We decided to adopt, given Anna's condition."
"Oh, Edwin! My sincerest congratulations, send my love to Anna! How long have you kept this from me? What's her name?"
Jarvis blushed an even deeper red before continuing.
"Well, given the circumstances, there was only one name that came to mind." He removed a photograph from his wallet and passed it to Peggy.
"Her name is Margaret. Named after our dearest friend and ally."
"Oh Mr. Jarvis!"
"In fact, we should very much like you to be her Godmother, if you'd oblige."
"Of course, Mr. Jarvis. Of course I will! Howard, is this why you summoned me here?"

Howard's smile fell slightly.
"Honestly Peg, no, it's not. There is a more serious matter that requires your attention."
"Oh for goodness sake, Howard, what have you lost this time?"
"Nothing, nothing at all! Well.... A prototype device. But it doesn't work! I hadn't finished it."
"Yes, but knowing our luck, that just makes it more dangerous. What if the function of this device, anyway?"
"It was designed for crowd control, non-lethal subduing of combatants, via the manipulation of carefully modulated sonic projections."
"In other words, Ms Carter, a sound gun."
"So, anything else you can tell me about this thing?"

Suddenly, the glass front of the bar shattered inwards, accompanied by a high pitched warbling noise.

Jago & Litefoot & Peggy (1)

The year is 1963, the swinging sixties are well underway, flower power is rising, Bettlemania has gripped the world, and a certain sci-fi show is about to air for the first time. It is in this setting that the intrepid investigators of infernal incidences and supernatural sleuthing known as Jago & Litefoot have found themselves in. These Victorian gentlemen have swapped the industrial revolution for a cultural revolution, quite by chance, and against their will. While the dashing duo figure out some method to return to their proper time and place, however, they must acclimate to their modern surroundings.

HGJ "Professor, I don't know why you dragged us to this lamentable location of libations. What was wrong with Higgies?"

PGL "Really Henry! You should broaden your horizons, we can't go to the same venue every night."

HGJ "It was good enough when we went to the Red Tavern, George."

PGL "Yes, but we belonged there, in our own time. Everything here is new to us, think of the future as a foreign destination to holiday in."

HGJ "I don't know about you, but my first port of call on holiday is to find my home comforts, like a good pint of ale."

PGL "We really are different people, Henry. Come now, when else will we get such an opportunity to explore a time beyond our lifespan, in such detail?"

HGJ "The rest of our lives, if we can't find a way home."

PGL "Oh, my dear friend. I know you miss our own time, I do too. But we know we get home eventually, Ellie told us so. So we should try and enjoy ourselves while we can."

HGJ "I suppose you're right, Litefoot. Sorry to sour the mood with my self indulgent sighs."

PGL "That sounds like the Henry Gordon Jago I know!"

HGJ "Indeed! While I have always preferred a perfectly poured pint of pale ale, perhaps some French fermentation will suit my libationary lust. Heh, a wine bar, the future really is a different place. What was it called?"

PGL "The Hoopy Frood, apparently. I don't get it either. And I don't much care for this decor."

HGJ "Take it from someone in the theatre business, this is a grotesquely garish assault on the sense of sight!"

PGL "All of these bright, clashing colours, and angles and curves. What happened to style, and sophistication?"

HGJ "It's like this place was decorated by an ill parrot who's eaten a magician's handkerchief."

PGL "At least they know their wine here. You should try the '58. It's got a fruity nose, and hints of chocolate and cinnamon, with a nutty finish."

HGJ "It's no good George, it's all Greek to me."

PGL "I'll have you know that this is Italian. The finer things are wasted on you, it would seem."

HGJ "Do you see that woman over there? In the fetching hat?"

PGL "The red one? Yes, it is rather striking, isn't it. Very fitting for this place. What about her?

HGJ "See the men she's with? The chapter on the left, with the moustache? That's none other than Howard Stark!"

PGL "Am I supposed to know who that is?"

HGJ "He's a genius, Millionaire, Inventor, Philanthropist, and Entertainment mogul. Met him once at a party at the TV studios. He's got a hand in pretty much every industry."

PGL "How fascinating."

HGJ "Though if I were you, I'd be more concerned with where his other hand is. He's got a bit of a reputation."

PGL "Oh, I see. That poor girl. But what's a man of his stature doing in a place like this?"

HGJ "Haven't the foggiest. CORKS!"

The patrons of the bar swung around in shock as the glass front shattered inwards with a resounding crash.