“Well spoken,” said Jordan.
“Are they speaking in some sort of code?” asked the American.
“They are engaging each other as intellectual combatants,” said Mick.
“Ahh, much like a game of chess.”
“Precisely,” said Mick.
In truth, he had no idea of what Jordan and Politically Correct were talking about, but he feared the American might lose faith in Jordan’s ability. A thought entered his mind as he watched superhero and supervillain converse.
Why do people say that “everything’s like a game of chess?” Nothing’s like chess except chess.
“How is it you look like me?” said Jordan.
“I imagine we come from mirror opposite universes,” said Politically Correct. “That’s why I have PC on my costume, while you have CP on yours. “Already, I know a great deal about your team.”
“How? You were all surprised when we showed up.”
“It’s a matter of simple deduction really. If I come from an opposite universe, then the opposite applies here.”
He looked at a specific spot on the window. Mick moved his head slightly. Politically Correct’s eyes followed. Being a one way mirror, Mick realised the supervillain must have employed some sort of mystical mind’s eye.
“Your leader, Mick is the weak link in your team,” said Politically Correct. “In my world, he has a brilliant tactical mind, is physically powerful, and is the bravest man I’ve ever heard of… so what does that say for your Mick?”
The American cast a wary glance aside.
Mick shrugged. “He’s only trying to undermine your confidence.”
“Of course. That makes sense. Would you like to come to the lunchroom for a coffee?” asked the American.
“I’ll just watch this,” said Mick.
“In my experience, these things go on for hours; even overnight.”
“Okay then. The rest of you monitor everything that goes on.”
The American placed a hand on Mick’s back and led him down the hall.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mick. We’ll inform you as soon as anything arises.”
Ryan sang in peaceful strains, accompanied by the others as Mick left their presence. He returned at odd times to check on Jordan’s progress. Hours slipped into night. The Sensational Six retired for the evening in their provided flat, except for Nick. Mick decided to leave one of his crew behind to monitor Jordan’s interrogation.
The wall phone in the flat ran in the morning. Mick answered it, receiving an update on the interrogation; no news. It seemed Politically Correct hadn’t broken. Pat relieved Nick and joined the rest of the group to train for the day. Glen received word at the end of the day that Politically Correct hadn’t as yet broken.
Two more days elapsed and Politically Correct still hadn’t cracked. Mick decided to take the Sensational Six down to the interrogation room.
Ryan on monitor duty, stood yawning beside the window with the American.
“… they aren’t all like that,” said Jordan.
“But that’s what a generalisation is, Captain Pedantic; it’s general,” said Politically Correct. “No one who makes a general statement on a given topic is actually stupid enough to believe that every single utter solitary person falls into a specific category.”
“Neither one of them has slept or moved from their seats for days,” said the American. “One of them is using Politically Correct reasoning while the other is using pedantic rationale. Between the two of them, they’re intellectually engaging each other into a standstill.”