Baron Quandary looked less intimidating without his cape, his spiked shoulderpads, and the Helmet of Oblivion. He looked like a middle-aged guy with a receding widow’s peak and a belly that bulged out his orange overalls. He sat disconsolately on the edge of his bunk, his arms draped over his knees and his drooping goatee on his chest.
On the bunk across the cement cell from him, Magnificus turned his head. He had been trying to tape one of the plastic arms of his thick glasses back on. “Huh?”
“Kets. All my vonderful plens, und I am beaten by a man und his kets.”
Magnificus frowned. “That’s rough, dude. That’s real rough.”
Baron Quandary shook his head slowly and let out a sigh worthy of the man who had led the Anarchy Assembly. “Kets. Jumped right in front of ze Kvandary Car. He didn’t even know it vas me.”
“Listen, man, if you want some advice,” said Magnificus, “if Catastrophoid or Mister Mayhem ask you about it, tell them it was something else. You don’t want to end up like Doctor Awful.”