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“But we're barely ever here, Daddy! What am I supposed to do with this thing while I'm beating up losers?!” Kevin Mask ricochets his voice, his real voice, around the marbled entrance hall of his and his partner's swanky home in Whitechapel, London. It's super effective, and his father cringes, his ears ringing inside his steel helmet.
“Kevin, my boy, since you broke an old man’s heart, again, do this one thing for me. Besides, it's travel sized. You can pop it in a locker while you fight.” Robin holds up a tiny ‘teacup’ piglet. Its face and the way he holds it under the arms causing it to be vaguely reminiscent of something else, something both men are aware of, but which neither will name.
Further along the corridor, a quasi-man in tight white spandex lurks behind a classical pillar, hesitant to emerge lest his mentor add his own roars to the audio mix created by Kevin, and thereby break his ears. His new ears, newly installed since the last time Robin arrived to beg for a grandchild. However, his need to inform Robin that he's been scammed is growing too fierce to bear, and his mask begins cracking.