The Enforcers don't usually discuss business so openly in their bolt hole in the Big Sky. But they've been cooped up in training gyms and fancy secret hotel rooms ever since the Sinister Six disaster, and this is big news. Huge. So sue 'em.

"Can't be. I've gone enough rounds with the bug to know he acts like a punk. But he ain't no punk."

"Yeah." Fancy Dan says.

"Mmm" goes Ox.

"Now I reckon the bug's got something goin' on there. Maybe even what the rest of them armatures had done to 'em. But tell me this; what kinda kid'd be dumb enough to have that done to 'em?"

"Yeah…" Fancy Dan says distractedly, trying to work something out here.

Ox doesn't say anything. He wasn't listening. Dan's about to, but Montana downs whatever's in his glass and picks right back up.

"Be a hell of a world if every kid woke up jumpin' around like--," He looses his stride here, having to slog through his brain and whatever it was he just drank to come up with an appropriate analogy, then manages to swagger ashore.", like a spring-loaded cat on a flaming oil rig floor."

He frowns uncertainly about that one, pretending it's at the concept at a world full of super children and pressing on with his train of thought. It'd help if he had a map. Or a break.

"An' even if they did, they ain't gonna call attention to themselves. Not by wearing a costume anyway." He holds back a belch. It's vitally important he doesn't loose track of this part. "The bug's got more of an attention seekin' complex than a masacist in a metal shop, but he's smart enough to wear a mask. Yer average kid wouldn't do that, not on the East coast anyhow. They'd have their face all over everythin', cashin' in 'stead of makin' an honest day's livin'."

Dan smiles dry and satisfied, the kind of smile his face was manufactured for. His thoughts almost exactly. "Yeah."

Blackie Gaxton catches Ox's eye and starts filling glasses. Only the best for the boss. And the Mexican mountain ranges that come with him.

"Mmm." Ox rumbles appreciatively. He takes a swig, savouring the burn and the aroma of those little nuts you only get in New York. When he puts it down two glasses are missing and Dan hasn't even reached for one yet. Montana briefly forgets himself and wipes his mouth on his gold cufflinks.

"It's like them other armatures." He pauses for breath. It may be Fancy Dan's imagination (he's been accused of having worse things) but something in the vibrating mess that is Montana's face seems to be going red. "Why would a fella go and do that to himself? I mean…why? An' it ain't just punks like Rhinosand or Rhinoman or whatever they called em. 'S…'s doctors. Not real doctors, but smart people. Old people!"

He chokes down a belch. Gotta get this out.

"An' these people, these smart people, they get their fancy mojo an' fruity suits an' they run around actin' like they're a bunch of kids! That's what all this stuff does! Turns men into kids. Messes with yer head. The engine's runnin' but ain't nobody driving."

Actually scratch that, better get something down. He grabs another drink to try and gather his thoughts.

"My point, partners is ya can't get a kid to act even more like a kid, yeah? So maybe the bug's a dwarf with a little too much of the gift fer the gab, sure, but he ain't no kid. Can't be! Ain't outta be allowed. 'Cause kids just ain't got the stuff. They just ain't. Nah, ya need somethin'….somethin'…hard drivin' ya."

Wherever his train of thought was going, it's jumped the rails and is now chugging away from him down an entirely separate track, but it's escape gives him an inspiration.

"An whatever it is…y'know for the doctors and the rhinos and things…you gotta get away from it, right? I mean, if yer messed up enough to pull on somethin' more fruity than an apple tree in a wheat field somethin' musta gone and messed ya up first, right? An' you gotta get away from it, whatever it is, cause it's driven' ya nuts. So, so since yer childhood's gotta be real terrible an' all, ya get yer freaky whatever it is and run around actin' like a little kid all over again. So's you can make it right, right? An' look at the bug, just look! Swings around actin' like the sun rises just to hear him crow! Kid's think like that, but they don't act like it, yeah?" He really wishes he had something to drink so he had most confidence in this. "I mean, we've seen some pretty weird stuff together right partners? Stuff no kids ever gonna see--no, should never see."

"Yeah." says Fancy Dan soberly.

"Mmm" agrees Ox.

"An' these ametures and punks and superguys an' the big…they gotta have somethin' messed up to run away from so's they can act like kids, yeah?" Or at least Montana thinks that's his point.

The alternative is the Enforcers, the best of the best from East to West, got their collective asses handed to them, one after the other, by someone who isn't even old enough to drive yet.

Fancy Dan and Ox hesitate. Dan's not gonna argue with the boss, but he never argues. That doesn't mean anything. You're lucky if Ox is monosyllabic.

"So the bug can't be a kid," Montana concludes ",he's too messed up. 'S-'sall logical like when ya'll think about it…"

He attempts to tap the side of his head to demonstrate and almost puts out his eye.

They think about this, even Ox. Yeah. Right. Yeah. This Peter Whateverhisnameis guy'd have to be downright messed up to actually be something like the bug. Hell, from the sounds of it, you'd have to be pretty dumb to be a superhero or a super villain. More messed up than a kid's closet when daddy ain't come home yet. Ox and Fancy Dan, their pride intact, are put at ease. This please Montana.

Then, through the fatigue and the drink, he starts thinking sharp ice cold thoughts about what that makes the Shocker exactly.