[ WP ] 2 people forget that they are supposed to hate each other .

`` Another round!'' A middle-aged man with a bright red lab coat and large glasses pushed his finished drink away. He leaned back and rubbed his eyes, then glanced at the mirrored wall on the back of the bar. His face looked back, slightly distorted. He stuck out his tongue. The two men standing behind him, also in red lab coats, exchanged glances. 
 
 The one on his left lowered his voice and spoke into his ear. `` Dr. Dedd, you've had twelve drinks. Are you sure that's...'' 
 
 `` Oh, hush,'' said the doctor in his aristocratic British tone, swatting him away. `` Whatever your... What's your name ag'in?'' The replacement drink arrived, and he gathered it up clumsily. His hair was disheveled, pushed aside in clumps, and the back, in particular, appeared to be largely singed away. 
 
 `` Steven, sir.'' 
 
 `` Yes. Fine. Steven, my head hurts rather badly, and I want to relax.'' He took a few gulps from his new drink and mopped his brow. 
 
 Steven shook his head and frowned, closing his eyes. Red Coat Number Two looked at Steven and leaned over. `` He's more drunk than we thought. We should get him back to -'' 
 
 The door opened, and they all turned to look - except Dr. Dedd, who continued to make faces at himself in the mirror. 
 
 Steven and Number Two turned ashen. A man in clothes resembling an American flag converted into a onesie - with accompanying face mask - stumbled through. Behind him was a woman in black spandex and Teflon and a big, shiny belt buckle bearing a likeness of the statue of liberty. She was dragging a large metal shield with a bald eagle painted on the front, and the pointed tip on the bottom scraped a visible line into the hardwood floors as she walked. The bartender winced. 
 
 The onesie guy's head was, or had been recently, bleeding heavily from one side; some of it had dripped onto his shoulder and dried there. The bartender peered at the wound with a squint. `` You're... Are n't you The Flag and Democra-She? I'm a big fan, but I do n't think I should serve you - you're bleeding from your head.'' 
 
 `` Do what now?'' The Flag pawed at his head and winced. `` I do n't recollect...'' His fingers came back with blood wherever they had touched his skull. `` Shoo-ee!'' He grabbed a few bar napkins and began to wipe blood off of his fingers. 
 
 `` He's all right,'' said Democra-She, examining a rough scrape on her right elbow that had torn the fabric. `` I think. But we've had a rough day. We had this crazy battle with...'' Her eyes widened as she noted the only other patron. `` You!'' she shouted, her fists clenching. 
 
 `` Shit,'' said Steven, instinctively stepping back behind Number Two, who pulled an unreasonably large automatic weapon from somewhere within the depths of his coat. Steven also pulled a weapon out, a smaller handgun that had been tucked in the back of his belt. The bartender shouted, `` Woah, now,'' and ducked behind the bar as they leveled their sights at their accuser. 
 
 Democra-She swung her shield out stepped in front of The Flag. `` Get down, Jason!'' 
 
 Dr. Dedd looked up to all the commotion. `` What are you doing?! Stop waving those things around or we'll be kicked out!'' His minions looked at each other, confused. 
 
 `` But...'' Number Two began to protest. 
 
 The Flag, his eyes glazed and his movements unsteady, dropped onto a bar stool. `` I'll have...'' He looked at Dr. Dedd and jerked a thumb in his direction. `` Whatever this feller's having!'' 
 
 Dr. Dedd raised his glass. `` This is a Jack and Coke, old boy!'' 
 
 The Flag saluted in response and cast his gaze about in search of the bartender. `` Aw right, thank ya, sir! One'o them, please, uh... Hello?'' 
 
 Dedd swung around to his companions, a pleased smile spreading across his face. `` Well, now! Is n't he a colorful fellow?'' Taken aback, Steven and Number Two glanced between Dedd and The Flag and slowly lowered their weapons. `` Put them away, I said! Everything is fine here, barman,'' he intoned in his chummiest voice. `` My employees are a touch overeager.'' The poor guy slowly raised his head, understandably uncertain. 
 
 Democra-She's face was a mixture of rage and confusion as she watched The Flag receive his order from the still-nervous bartender; apparently, his patron's notoriety had won out over his professional ( and self-preservational ) instincts. She leaned close, hissing in his ear. `` THAT. IS DR. DEDD. You had an explosive showdown - I mean, there were actual explosions - with this guy thirty minutes ago. Does that ring a bell?'' 
 
 The Flag turned up to look at her apologetically. `` Shucks, not really, uh...'' 
 
 `` Luanne!'' she exploded, slamming her fist on the bar. `` Jesus, how hard did he hit you?'' 
 
 `` Hey!'' said the bartender. He wiped fruitlessly at the fist-shaped dent she had left. `` Watch it!'' 
 
 `` Sorry, I...'' She gritted her teeth. `` I'll pay for that.'' 
 
 `` I do n't really remember a whole heck of a lot right now, Luanne,'' The Flag said, shrugging. He downed his drink whole and pushed the glass away, placing a crumpled five dollar bill beside the it. `` I know my head hurts, that's fer sure.'' 
 
 Steven attempted to make use of this unexpected lull. `` Sir, I really think we need to go. I do n't know how much longer they'll -'' 
 
 `` Good grief,'' Dedd said crossly, `` you are such a little field mouse. One more for everyone, on me!'' Number Two placed his forehead in his palm and quietly groaned. 
 
 `` Well, golly, thanks!'' said the The Flag, his grin opening wide. 
 
 `` Jason,'' Democra-She seethed, gripping The Flag's shoulder, `` This has to be a set-up!'' 
 
 `` Luanne!'' the Flag whispered loudly, turning back around to face her. `` You are embarrassing me right now! This gentleman has been nothing but polite! Even if he were my worst enemy, I'd -'' 
 
 `` He is literally your arch-enemy.'' 
 
 `` - I'd like to treat him with the same courtesy he has extended me! That is just manners, Luanne! Now you know how I feel about manners! At least, I think you do.'' He paused. `` That was you, right? You know about southern hospitality and my upbringing and all of that?'' 
 
 She rolled her eyes so hard they were all whites for a moment. ``... Yes, that was me.'' 
 
 `` Then there you go. Are we good?'' 
 
 `` Honestly? No. But I guess I'm not going to start a bar fight with an unwilling partner. Also, I'm pretty sure you've had a severe concussion and should n't be -'' 
 
 `` Your drinks, everyone.'' The bartender delivered the whiskey. 
 
 Dr. Dedd raised his glass. `` To friends, both old and new!'' 
 
 `` Cheers!'' said The Flag, who did indeed seem cheerful. 
 
 Dr. Dedd nudged Steven in the ribs. `` Cheers,'' Steven muttered, nervously eyeing Democra-She, who gave him a nasty look and pounded her fist into her palm. They all drank, except Democra-She, who quietly offered to pay the bartender to stop serving. He refused. 
 
 It was, all-in-all, a most unexpected peace. Several minutes later, the police showed up, thanks to Democra-She's surreptitious summons via the phone booth at the restrooms. The room devolved into the cacophony of violence and anger typical of the parties involved. They had already begun to remember their familiar selves, and a brief and unintended experiment on the value of forgetting was, itself, let loose from memory.
