Page 44 of Nicki's Fight

Silence fell for a moment as we all turned to look at him and his companion.

Cameron—Mason, apparently—was almost as tall as Lee, but a lot thinner. His skin was pale and seemed to get even more so under our scrutiny. His blue eyes were wary as he stood under the foyer light, and he looked like an animal that was about to bolt.

“Mason, huh?” Mama K walked out of the kitchen as we all stared at them. She was wearing an old Iron Man t-shirt, which showed the muscles in her arms to her advantage.

She walked over to him, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She looked him up and down, her eyes piercing.

“So, you’re the comic book expert, right?” she asked, her voice still carrying a bit of a Spanish accent, even after all these years in Ohio.

I looked at Bishop and grinned. We knew what was coming.

“Graphic novel,” Mason answered her automatically, like he’d been asked the question a lot. “…But, yeah.”

I felt sorry for the poor kid. He looked kind of terrified. For someone who was famous, he certainly didn’t seem very confident. He looked like he thought Mama K would chew him up, spit him out, and ask for seconds. Which, okay, maybe she could…

Mama K looked up at him and smiled that devious smile she had when she was up to something. Her hair was a dark brown, its curls barely restrained by the headband she wore. Mama K’s family had been from Mexico, and though she’d been born in the United States, Spanish had been her family’s primary language, so her accent was strong, even now.

“Maybe you could answer a question for me then,” she paused.

“Kyra, don’t you drag that boy into this!” I heard Mama D call out from the kitchen.

Mom glared back over her shoulder at her partner.

“Hush, D! I’m just asking him for hisexpertopinion. I’m allowed to ask questions, right?” she said, turning the full force of her innocent smile on him.

“Um… Yes?” Mason answered, his voice ending on an up note, like he wasn’t sure if it was a question or an answer.

“Good boy!” Mama K said, linking her arms through Mason’s and smiling, walking him into the living room. “So, who do you think would win if a villain made them fight: Iron Man or Captain America?”

I heard Mama D sigh and saw her shake her head, her hair swaying back and forth as my other mother tried to drag yet another unsuspecting bystander into their longstanding feud over which of the Marvel badasses would win in a fight.

“Um, neither?” Mason ventured, carefully extricating his arm from my mother’s under the guise of setting his backpack down next to the door. “I mean, think about it. As smart as Tony Stark is, he still has tons of flaws - alcohol addiction, women, etc. But his abilities with tech are almost magical.”

Mason’s eyes started shining as he began talking faster, obviously feeling more confident on a subject he felt comfortable with.

“Captain America, while all he has is the shield, can strategize way better than Tony can. So he can make use of all kinds of tools if needed to battle Tony, plus he’s got lots of friends,” he continued, “but the thing is, they wouldn’t ever really fight each other…”

I went to interrupt, arguing with him. I mean, thehadfought before. He held his finger up to stop me.

“…Not for long, at any rate,” he continued. “They are bothreallysmart guys. If anyone tried to get them to fight each other, they’d probably figure it out pretty quickly, and then work together to turn the tables on the villain who caused it in the first place.”

The room when silent, and I saw Mama D smile as Mama K stood there, dumbstruck. Seeing my tiny, dark-haired mother without words for once was epic in and of itself. Mama D walked into the living room and smiled, her hand outstretched to shake Mason’s.

“I’m Diana. Welcome to the Devereaux Den. I think you’ll do just fine.”

* * *

Shortly after Lee and Mason arrived, the twins had called.

I answered my phone and stepped away from the living room, which was entirely too noisy to carry on a conversation at that point.

“Hey, where are you guys?” I asked. The twins were already almost an hour late. D&D nights in the Devereaux household were sacrosanct. One did not just “run late” to D&D.

“We’re at the apartment,” Hicks said.

“Why the fuck aren’t you here yet?” I asked. “Didn’t you guys leave when Lee and Mason did?”

“Yeah, we did, but we had to hit the bank and make the deposit and we wanted to come home and shower before we came over…” Hicks’ voice trailed off.