Ship of Fools

“This is Steven,” Holtz said. “The Destroyer.”

Angel sniffed the air. “Connor!” he cried, and he knelt down in front of the tousle-haired boy of about eight who stood beside Holtz. “Connor! I am your father.”

The boy backed away slightly, raised his fists, and scowled. “I’m Steven,” he insisted. “Not Connor.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “If that kid is the Destroyer,” she commented, “then B.A. must be an aircraft carrier.”

Barracus glared at her. “Hey, fool,” he said. “You can call me a battleship, maybe, but I ain’t gonna be no aircraft carrier. Ain’t no plane goin’ on me.”