139. The Consortium - xxi. The Gun Junker

Page Notes

Episode published on Saturday 4th of May, 2019.

May the Fourth be with you! While we're clearly not celebrating Star Wars, we are celebrating a new chapter in this comic's history. We are dropping the title "Detulux Incorporated" as we feel that, while it has served us well, it doesn't help to describe what the comic is actually about. Hence, from this episode onwards the comic will be under the banner of the rather catchy title "GunJunker". Rest assured that the comic will be advised by the Force ghost of Detulux Incoporated on how to resist the Dark Side of the Force (sorry, that was clearly a bit laboured in trying to tie it back to Star Wars). All episodes in the archive up until this point will retain the white and grey styling with the Detulux logo.

The Star Wars reference is not actually the reason this page was published late (we're Whovians in our household and Sam is a latter-day Trekkie), instead it's because several months back I decided to bring the deadline for the chapter forward by about four months by condensing quite a few episodes together. Sam has been brilliant in getting the extended episodes out consistently each month so I think we can forgive her for this episode being a meagre three days late, especially given the length of it! The lateness is my fault.

Tagged: The Captain, Jack Bauser, Location - Consortium Meeting Warehouse, Location - Detulux HQ, Location - Paris, France, Mara Kyler, Max Valerion, Mr. A

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Comments

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Transcript

Title - 139: "The Consortium"
Subtitle - xxi. "The Gun Junker"

(Mara enters a darkened room. It's Mr. A's inner sanctum, the man stood leaning over a roaring fireplace. The room is lavishly decorated, a far cry from the plain blue walls of the rest of the building. It's the room he was sat in behind the shutters during the meeting. He glances at her to acknowledge her entrance, still wearing his black opera mask.)

Mr. A: I think that went awfully well, don't you?

(Mara closes the door behind her, looking sceptical at the declaration.)

Mara: All except the fracas in the toilets with Ralph Smiffington. I'm really not sure why you invited him-

(Mr. A's back remains to her as he remains leaning.)

Mr. A: -We all have our reasons, and I have mine.

(He glances at her but otherwise remains facing the fireplace. Mara pouts.)

Mr. A: You did a number on Mr. Pa...P...our mutual friend.
Mara: Uh-huh.

(Behind his mask, Mr. A looks severe as he glances at her.)

Mr. A: Did you manage to do it without taking your clothes off?
Mara: Would you be happier if I said "yes" or "no"?

(Mr. A turns his head towards Mara briefly.)

Mr. A: I am indifferent.

(He returns to gazing into the fire, looking disappointed. Mara blushes, wistfully staring off in a world of her own.)

Mr. A: It's just a shame that you should have to lower yourself to such means. Still, it almost makes up for your failure in Spain-

(Mara becomes riled, Mr. A having touched a nerve. She becomes more animated, gesturing with her hands as she makes her point.)

Mara: -How was I supposed to know he'd switch the sample with a bottle of literal crap?

(Mr. A remains unimpressed, only responding to her outburst with a mere glance. Mara calms down, feining a thoughtful yet smug expression.)

Mr. A: Does he still have it?
Mara: What, the crap? Well he is full of it-

(A finally turns around, annoyed. He prods a finger at Mara accusingly as she smiles back, impishly.)

Mr. A: The original sample. You know full well what I meant!
Mara: I will find out tonight, but knowing him he probably had it destroyed.

(Mr. A relaxes and leans an elbow against the fireplace, turning his gaze towards the painting above it. It is Mara's turn to be annoyed again.)

Mr. A: A shame. We had plans for that.
Mara: Oh, yeah. I can see just how useful it would be.

(She wiggles her fingers and sticks her tongue out as she remembers some of the tentacle-headed Fluga victims back in Spain, Jack Bauser amongst them with his mutated arm-wing.)

Mara: Heads popping, tendrils everywhere. You saw what it did to that egomaniac Bauser!

(She pauses mid-sentence, giving Mr. A a sudden look of concern.)

Mara: ...How is Bauser, anyway?

(Mr. A doesn't turn to face her, replying matter-of-factly.)

Mr. A: We had to let him go.
Mara: You don't mean...?
Mr. A: I mean that he wished to part company with us and we wished him well with his future endeavours.

(Mara is surprised by this anticlimactic revelation.)

Mara: Oh, that's...quite reasonable, actually.
Mr. A: Unlike Mr. Grünveldt and W.R.A.I.T.H, we are a little more lenient.

(He turns to face her once more, tenderly stroking her chin as he leans in. Mara looks nervous but makes no move to stop him.)

Mr. A: Dead men aren't of any use to us.
Mara: So I'm off the hook?
Mr. A: My dear, you were never on it.

(He steps closer, properly cupping her face now with one hand, the other snaking around her hip. Mara's stifling a laugh as she focuses on the opera mask sitting on his face just in front of her nose.)

Mara: What is that on your face?
Mr. A: Ah heh...I genuinely wasn't expecting to have to raise the shutter. I was forced to improvise...

(Mara raises a brow, amused.)

Mara: And you just happened to have an opera mask lying around?
Mr. A: Well I always did have a flair for the dramatic...

(He holds her chin, closing his eyes and leaning in to kiss her tenderly. Mara's thoughts are clearly elsewhere as she looks off to the side. She changes the subject as soon as the kiss ends.)

Mara: Also, "Mr. A"? Seriously?
Mr. A: Ha! Well you've just changed your name! It was all I could think of at the time.

(Mara turns away from him, pointing a thumb in the direction of the shutters, Pain presumably on the other side somewhere. Mr. A seems disappointed and annoyed.)

Mara: I have to go, Pain's waiting for me.

(Mr. A rallies himself, forcing a smile that borders on a sneer.)

Mr. A: Go. Enjoy yourself.

(Mara begins making her way towards the exit. Mr. A stands imperiously, arms folded in front of the fire. Mara rolls her eyes as he nags her.)

Mr. A: Don't forget that we have a dinner appointment Saturday, I don't want to be eating alone. Again.
Mara: I'll be there!
Mr. A: One last thing...I am deeply disappointed that Mr. Ryng could not be here tonight.

(Mara pauses as she opens the door, light from the corridor illuminating the sullen look on her face.)

Mr. A: I have a hunch that our mutual friend knows where he really is. Could you have a word?
Mara: Sure. Goodbye, Mr. A...

(She leaves. Mr. A smiles, approaching a small cabinet where an expensive-looking bottle rests on top. He pours himself a drink.)

Mr. A: Looks like it's just me and a bottle of brandy tonight then...

Narrator: Later that night...

(Pain and Mara are now back at Detulux, inside Pain's office. The murphy bed is down, the two tucked up inside it in their nightwear. Pain sleeps soundly, cuddling Mara. Mara is thoughtful, staring at the ceiling as she tousles Pain's hair with her hand.)

Narrator: The next day...

(Pain sits at his desk intensely reading paperwork, all branded with the Consortium logo. It's a sunny day outside. Snowball the cat sleeps on the desk, Pain reclining in his office throne chair. The Captain approaches his desk.)

Captain: All looks in order, Boss?
Pain: Hrm...while I trust Mara, I don't trust this "Mr. A" chap.

(Pain tears his gaze away from the papers and passes them to the Captain, who's probably rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.)

Pain: We'd better send all this off to Slymme to get a second opinion. If there's anything dodgy, he'll find it.
Captain: (sarcastically) For a reasonable fee, I'm sure.

(Pain grows stern, waving a finger at the Captain for emphasis.)

Pain: And don't tell Mara about this, for god's sake. This paperwork is a real conflict of interests with her as far as I'm concerned.

(The Captain mimes zipping his mouth closed, grinning as he turns to leave, the papers now attached to his clipboard.)

Captain: My lips are sealed!

(The Captain glances back over his shoulder as Pain chuckles to himself, placing a finger on his chin in thought.)

Pain: Heh.
Captain: Something funny, Boss?
Pain: Something Grünveldt said to me yesterday. That I'm a "third-rate gun junker".

(The Captain comes to a halt and turns back to face Pain, who waves a hand dismissively.)

Captain: The hell does that mean?
Pain: Haven't a clue. Probably taking the piss by implying that half our merch is junk or something.

(Captain's brow creases, clearly angry at this implication. He stands with his hands on his hips. Pain just smiles.)

Captain: We don't need W.R.A.I.T.H's business anyway. Fuck 'em.
Pain: I don't know, I quite like the term. "Gun junker". Sorta catchy!

(The Captain just shrugs and begins to leave once more, pointing to the paperwork he's carrying.)

Captain: Whatever, Boss. I'll get these papers off to Slymme.

(The Captain leaves. Pain picks up a glass of whiskey from the desk and raises it towards the reader, winking and forming a finger gun with his free hand. He breaks the fourth wall.)

Pain: Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Pain. Professional Gun Junker. Glad to be of service.

Narrator: END.

Tagline: You have been reading Detulux Incorporated. Thanks for reading!

(The page gradients from white to black. Two logos are presented; one for "GunJunker" styled with the "GUN" in chrome and the "G" forming a revolver firing a bullet, and the other the standard red stylised "Detulux Incorporated" logo.)

Title: Welcome to GunJunker, the comic formerly known as Detulux Incorporated.