Agent Black stumbles into the Special Investigations lunchroom, his face and suit covered with ashes, dust and blood.
Captain Carnage: You look like you done tried your IRS mojo on a Texas woman.
Agent Black: Would you rather have Agent Orange drive a car or handle a submachine gun?
Captain Carnage: Is that a trick question?
Agent Black: Do I look like I’m feeling tricky right now?
Captain Carnage: Well, is Agent Orange in a combat zone on another continent, or is he somewhere where a red light actually means something?
Agent Black: Washington, DC. In my car.
Captain Carnage: Hotdamn, kid. I wouldn’t get in a tank if I knew O.J. was driving it. Give him the submachine gun, I reckon it’s less likely to hurt nastylike when he gets you killed. Those damn reptiles, they drive like everyone’s limbs grow back.
Agent Black: So, I was driving Orange. He was late to a meeting on Capitol Hill.
Captain Carnage: Hooh boy. I like where this is going.
Agent Black: We got a red light and Agent Orange says something like “why are you stopped? Keep moving, keep moving, dummy.”
Captain Carnage: Alligators reckon green and red’re the same color. When they talk about traffic lights, y’just gotta take it like Congress talking about collateral. They’re talking, but they’re not really talking, y’reckon?
Agent Black: Well, uhh. I’d heard about the green-red colorblind thing before. So I said “shuddap, I know we’re late.” And then the back of our car exploded.
Captain Carnage: Rocket launcher ambush?
Agent Black: Ambushes.
Captain Carnage: Many?
Agent Black: Four cars.
Captain Carnage: Hot damn! So you had to pick between driving or shooting. Damn sure he ain’t doing the driving. He makes NASCAR look like bumper cars. You know he once managed 8 digits of damage with a golf-cart?
Agent Black: I believe it.
Captain Carnage: Since you survived, I reckon you gave him the gun. But how did he shoot it? His hands are big enough to palm a rifle.
Agent Black: I took the gun.
Captain Carnage: But that means…
Captain Carnage: !
Agent Black: I long for death’s sweet embrace.
Later that day:
Agent Orange: Greetings, mammal-Mike!
Mike: The Captain said you had an interesting day today.
Agent Orange: I met a wily mammal-gelatoier.
Mike: A gelatoier?
Agent Orange: A mammal that sells gelato. He introduced me to the seedy and sinister gelato underworld by tricking me with a gallon of orange-flavored gelato. That was very interesting. No doubt Mike-flavored gelato would interest you. But his alleged “orange” flavor was not even remotely similar to my real orange flavor, which proves that it was a foul ruse. I also seem to have lost feeling in my digestive tract. In retrospect, I have concluded that gallons of orange gelato are better-suited to mammals than cold-bloods.
Mike: I think Carnage was referring to an attempted assassination with rocket launchers.
Agent Orange: Oh, there was that, too.
Mike: Don’t you think that was a little bit more interesting than the gelato?
Agent Orange: (Mammals). Before today, I had not ever been offered gelato, let alone gelato that was (purportedly) in my flavor. But assassination attempts are a dime a dozen. In fact, perhaps the gelato was an assassination attempt.