HOSS: Look—I wanna just sound you for a while before we get down to the cut. You think we could do that? You don’t know how lonely it’s been in this jam. I mean, I can talk to Chaser but we mostly wind up reminiscing on old kills. You know. Slip back into Bakersfield. Turf wars. I get no new information. Nothing’s coming in. I’m starving for new food.

CROW: Spin me somethin.

HOSS: Now this don’t mean I won’t be game to mark you when the time comes. I don’t sleep standing up. It’s just that I wanna find out what’s going on out there. None of us seems to have a clear picture, here. I mean all the pictures are—Nothing’s making any sense. I’m surrounded by limbos still playing in the sixties. That’s where I figured you were actually. Earlier in fact. Beach Boys maybe. Sad Brian Wilson.

CROW: That sand stayed on the shore with me, Leathers. Sure you can suss me in detail. What’s your key?

HOSS: This is stark. Me bibing from you.

CROW: No guarantee.

HOSS: I mean I can’t believe myself admitting it. A lack. You know? I thought I could teach you something. I thought you were maybe playin to the inside. Choosin me off just to get in the door. I mean I know you must be Mojo’s trigger right? A throw-down artist?

CROW: Derail, Leathers. Yer smokin the track.

HOSS: Eyes traced a Phoenix route. It don’t matter. If you ain’t from the Root Force, your ass is grind. Any way you cut it yer a corpse. So let’s lay that one on the rack for now. Let’s just suspend and stretch it out.

CROW: We can breathe thick or thin. The air is your genius.

HOSS: Good. Now, first I wanna find out how the Gypsy Killers feature the Stars. Like me. How do I come off? Are we playin to a packed house like the Keepers all say?

CROW: (cackles) Those Image shots are blown off the hoodoo, man. No fuse to match the slot. Only trinsic power fields weight the points in our match.

HOSS: Well, we’re not just being ignored! Somebody’s payin attention out there. You can’t tell me we haven’t sent a few ripples your direction.

CROW: We catch debris beams from your set. Scope it to our action then scat it back to garbage game.

HOSS: Listen, chump, a lotta cats take this game serious! There’s a lotta good Markers left in this league.

CROW: You choose ears against tongue, Leathers. Not me. I can switch to suit. You wanna patter on my screen for a while?