anything, and it turns out that he’s pretty paranoid about getting sniped by some alien. He has had a bounty on his head since the end of the Kree-Skrull War and he’s not about to let some guy like E.T. blow his brains out! Unless he actually wants him to blow his brains out sexually, which might actually be fun?
Finally, Rick agrees to let the Avengers help, but he runs away again while Jessica is on the phone trying to get ahold of someone at the Mansion. This is the end of the arc, which honestly kind of sucks, but let’s see how they wrap this up in a neat little poop-filled package.
Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #9 [July, 2002]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“B Level (Part 4)”
Jessica is on the street, phone to her ear. Looking around the crowds, she manages to get through to the “Avengers Mansion emergency hotline”. That sounds like something they’d stick Peter Parker with. Hey, kid, sit at the desk and take these calls while the real superheroes go fight various crimes. Do not, under any circumstances, jerk off while we’re gone. There are cameras everywhere, we keep telling you that.
But no, this is an automated recording prompting Jessica to leave a voicemail. Jessica ums and uhs and uhms her way through the message, explaining that she tried reaching Danvers with little success, that she was hired by Rick Jones’ wife to find him, that there’s a bounty on Rick’s head by the Skrulls, that she lost him in the crowd after he flipped the fuck out for the fifth time that evening, so please put aside differences or whatever and help out. Thank you.
Her next call is to Jane Jones. Jessica ums and uhs and uhms her way through the message and tells her to call her back.
Next, she checks her email. Hmm…spam, porn, spam, porn, spam, oooooh, some good porn! *click* *virus* *restart* *revert to last restore point* *check email* aha, remember that married, but gay, guy Jessica was catfishing back in Issue #6? Because I didn’t! She got an email from him!
Because it’s that VERY SAME GOVERNMENT which… oh, never mind.
“No more games. It’s time to meet, dying to meet you. Lets [sic] be adventurous. Meet me at the Starbucks at 43rd and Lexington. I’ll be wearing a blue sweater with…”
We don’t see the rest of the email, but I think the rest of the sentence is “…’I’M GAY’ written in bright yellow letters.”
Finally, something went right for a change. Jessica’s gonna catch this guy, collect a paycheck, and buy a lot of Bagel Bites. “Ooooh, at a Starbucks,” she thinks. “How incredibly uninteresting on every level.” Whatever, lady, you like it.
Exhausted from being up all night chasing Rick the Dick, and finished with her various correspondences, she falls asleep on her laptop.
The sound of someone talking on her phone slowly rousts her awake. “Yo man, I heard you. And then I asked: in what regards is this phone call about? As in: why are you calling, mutha fucka?!”
This is the dumbass from Issue #6 that popped into her office just because he was a fan. He asks the guy on the phone “what the fuck kind of name is Jarvis” before Jessica gets up, snatches the phone, and tells the pissant to get the hell out of her office.
It’s Jarvis at the Avengers Mansion returning her call! I don’t know no Jarvis, but he looks like he performs various sexual favors for the Avengers teams (judging from his bow-tie). Jarvis is calling on behalf of Captain America, who stuck Jarvis with the call because he’s too busy humping his shield.
Heh, sir, you’ve got my guy confused with Rick Springfield. One’s a superhero, see, and the other is some dumbshit I lost last night.
Jarvis confirms that Rick Jones is in Los Angeles, which confuses Jessica to NO END. “We are aware of a man – a young man who fancies the idea of calling himself Rick Jones. We’re not sure if he’s ill or just a mischievous young man – but we have run into him before.”
Yeah right, buddy. Who are we going to believe? “Rick Jones” and his shifty, bipolar behavior and his insistence that his wife is insane, or Jarvis, some credible guy calling from the Avengers Mansion claiming that this “Rick Jones” may not be who he says he is? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Go thoroughly fuck youself, Jarvis.
This guy cooked up a whole story based on the real Rick Jones’ book, the one that the real Jessica Jones has been really reading in the last couple of days. The real Rick Jones is fine. The imposter Rick Jones may not be fine, but who gives a shit? “Captain America wanted to tell you not to worry about this and he sends you his best regards.”
Uh huh. Uh huh. Ok, now what? Now what, Jarvis? HUH?
The kid is still there.
“Shitty news?” he asks.
“Are you still here?”
“Sorry I didn’t answer the phone right.”
“Please go.”
“What happened?”
Do you kiss your church with that mouth?
“Why are you up my ass, kid?” Jessica asks, glaring.
“Someone fucked you over?”
“Yes.”
“You gonna kick their ass?”
“Thinking about it, yes.”
“Can I have a job?”
Jessica buries her face in her hands. The last she needs is… well, hold on.
“What’s your name again?”
“Malcolm.”
“Malcolm, can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Can you fuck off?”
Heh.
Later, Jessica catches Rick Imposter-Jones playing in the park. He’s supposed to be taking requests but he’s really, really bad at it. And guess who’s cuddled up next to him on the bench? Why, it’s none other than…
GEORGE COSTANZA! *slap bass*
Or, rather, Jane Jones. “AAAAGGGHHHH!” Jane screams after spotting the approaching Jessica Not-Imposter-Jones. She runs toward her… and… AND…
She hugs her. “Jessica! Jessica! You found him! You’re so awesome!”
Rick looks over sheepishly. Jane continues being effusively grateful. Jessica appears salty while both of them thank her for all her efforts. “And you were a huge help,” Rick tells her. “Was I?” she responds. “Yes you were, and now I have my Janey back,” he responds back. “Yay!” says Jane.
…
Jessica lets the silence hang for a minute.
“How did it work out? The trouble you were in?”
*record scratch*
Rick’s not about to talk about it now! He smiles smugly. Jane is happy. Everyone wins!
Fine, whatever. It’s Starbucks time, bitches. She sits with a cup of coffee and awaits her mark. A man walks into the shop talking on the phone with his secretary. He sits down next to Jessica, somewhat exasperated, after finishing the phone call. He is DEFINITELY not wearing a blue fucking sweater.
“What kind of doctor are you?” she asks him.
“Psychotherapist.”
Oh, excellent! Jessica Jones could use three or four of those.
Don’t even ask me to pass you a napkin without making an appointment. I’m a very busy man.
She tells this man that she met a guy who is pretending to be someone who he is not – allegedly. Even though his story is full of holes and he seems shifty and untrustworthy, everyone – everyone, including her – keeps getting suckered in. What’s that about? Where’s all that charm coming from? …and how can I get some of that? This is Tom speaking now. I want some of that charm. Oh wait, I got it in spades baby. *puts on sunglasses*
Mr. Psychotherapist has an expert diagnosis for this: pseudologia fantastica. Actually, he says “pseudologica” which proves already that he’s shit at his job, so anything he says now should NOT be listened to! Anyway, listen up: people start with small lies, they seem to work, they work their way up to grandiose lies, and those seem to work too. Eventually, when the lie is so big that no one could possibly believe them, the part of their brain that should be attuned to this isn’t functioning properly. So the lies get even bigger, and they eventually get SO big that people come back around and start to believe all over again.
“See, that’s what I – I –” Jessica is at a loss for words here. “…I mean, why do they believe them?”
“Because they want to,” he responds, sipping his sludgy $9 coffee. “People are desperate for excitement. They want to know famous people … So badly do they not want to be ordinary.”
“The peasants want the kings to come down and play.”
This particular phrase sits well with Jessica. This psychotherapist has a couple of examples at the ready: some guy in Manhattan who told people he was Victor Von Doom’s kid just to crash parties. A 27-year-old Iranian guy enrolled in a high school and told everyone he was Steven Spielberg’s 14-year-old nephew. Crazy stuff. Real cuckoo bonkers. And they roam around like everyday people. Nuts. Looney toons.
This guy didn’t have to open up to her. But he did. He helped her, now she returns the favor.
I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady! My wife is both Jodie Foster AND Uncle Jesse from Full House and I have a rocket car that takes me to Mars on weekends.
The dude does his little “oh shit” and gets out of dodge.
“They believe because they want to believe,” she says to herself. “Pssss….”
I believe she meant “pffft”. That other sound sounds like a bathroom noise!
She continues to sit nursing her coffee, thinking about the previous night with Rick Jones. A scene we didn’t see. About an hour before the Fantastic Four’s building opened up to the public, they sat talking in a diner.
“So, kind of a crazy night, huh?” Jessica breaks some of that thick, thick ice.
She tells him she read his book. All of it. It really got to her, you know. Lots of stuff resonated with her and all that jazz. She goes into some specifics about the insecurities detailed in the pages, the kind we’ve already seen before, and Rick keeps looking at her like a deer in the headlights.
“Like my body would freak out and say: ‘Don’t be here. This isn’t where regular people should be’,” she says, discussing the feeling of people around the real heroes.
“But you have powers? Right?” he hazards the question.
“I know. I know. I can’t explain it. It’s just – let’s just say it’s one of the many, many reasons that I know that I shouldn’t have been wearing the costume.”
I mean, it’s cool that she finally met someone who felt the same way! Kindred spirits! Besties! He tries to deflect and change the subject, of course, and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.
And she smiles. She sits and smiles.
And she feels like a fool.
“‘The peasants want the kings to come down and play.’ Fuck.”
Final Thoughts
How do we know for sure that this Rick Jones really isn’t the REAL Rick Jones? Never mind the fact that he was workin’ it to get laid and he seemed very shifty and he never seemed to know what Jessica was talking about… but I don’t trust that Jarvis guy as much as I can throw his bow-tie to the moon. And I can’t do that!
Nice story arc, I suppose. I’ll see you again soon Jessica “Rick” Jones.
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