I raise my eyebrows, intrigued. "Go on..."
"We tell them it's some super rare, small-batch whiskey from like, I dunno, a monastery in Tibet or something." Brick warms to the idea. "We hype it up as the smoothest, most luxurious whiskey ever to touch their lips. The kind of whiskey kings would kill for."
I nod along, seeing where he's going with this.
"So of course, they all show up, ready to sample thismythical liquor." Brick pauses for dramatic effect. "But little do they know, the whiskey is spiked with a powerful sedative."
He mimes someone passing out. "Nighty night, Tane's thugs. They'll be out cold before they can say '12-year single malt.'"
I laugh, clapping Brick on the back. "I love it! Operation Whiskey Down, let's call it. We'll toast to it!" I pretend to clink glasses with him.
Brick grins. "Here's to taking down Tane with creativity and style."
We walk along the beach tossing ideas back and forth, each one more ridiculous than the last. But with Brick by my side, I know we'll hatch the perfect scheme soon enough. Tane won't know what hit him.
Brick's eyes light up as another idea comes to him. "Okay, get this. We send each of Tane's main guys a gift basket."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's in these mystery baskets?"
He rubs his hands together gleefully. "Nothing but the finest bath bombs and scented candles. Maybe a nice loofah or two."
I burst out laughing at the image. "Can you imagine those muscle-bound goons soaking in a tub surrounded by candles and bath bombs? Their massive arms covered in suds?"
Brick joins in my laughter. "Right? Have you seenmein a bathtub?"
I'm doubled over by this point, the image of Brick splashing around in the tub with a rubber ducky.
We include a card saying it's a 'relaxation package' from an anonymous admirer."
"They'll be so confused but won't be able to resist trying it all out," I chuckle. "And their egos will be so puffed up they won't dare tell each other about it."
"Exactly! Then when they're all pruney and smelling of lavender, we make our move." Brick mimes kicking down a door.
"Operation Bubble Bath Blitz!" I proclaim. We high five at the ridiculous yet brilliant plan.
As the sun sinks lower, our schemes grow wilder. No idea too absurd or impractical. Laughter and camaraderie carry us through the evening.
"Wait, I've got it!" he exclaims at one point. "This plan is so simple in its insanity, we can't fail!"
"Oh yeah? Now I need to hear this one," I laugh and shake my head.
"So…we dress up as a group of deranged clowns straight out of a Stephen King novel and start terrorizing the streets. We'll target Tane's men, of course, but also the people closest to them. Wives, kids, dogs, no one would be safe. The goal would be to shatter the illusion that Tane Brown is invincible, and replace it with fear—gnawing, all-consuming fear."
"That's a great plan, but it would take far too long. Fear takes a while to build, even when there are killer clowns involved."
Brick considers my opinion for a moment, his lip twitching. For a second, I worry I've offended him with my quick dismissal of his crazy plan. But just as quickly, he nods and shrugs. "You're right. But let's keep that up our sleeves for a rainy day. I might order a psycho clown outfit for each of us in the meantime… just in case."
His plans may seem like straight-up lunacy to the untrained, but underneath the jokes, I sense Brick's brilliant strategic mind at work. He's a master at understanding people's weaknesses and using them to his advantage. His plans aren't just physical, they're intensely psychological as well. This is all part of his planning process, and Tane doesn't stand a chance against his brilliance. Because underneath his comedy, Brick knows that Tane and his army are some of the most evil imaginable.
I laugh, recalling the near-death experience we barely survived on the other island. "Man, we thought we were so slick, like a pair of sexy, dark knights." I pause. "But for real. We need to take that bastard down, Brick. He's got the whole island chain under his thumb, and I'm sick of it." I clench my fists, the desire for retribution burning in my blood.
Brick nods, running a hand through his shaggy surfer hair. Usually it's tied up in a man bun, but today it runs wild and free. His 'brainstorming hair', he calls it. "I'm thinking... maybe we take them out one by one, and see how long he lasts. Seeing his precious goons get picked off like that would have to fuck with his head."
I doubleover with sadistic glee, which I assume looks comical given my gangly frame. "Oh, I've got some ideas, Brick. Gruesome, twisted, and oh-so-sweet. Can we start with that one bastard, the one with the gold tooth?"
"Wesley, I think his name is? Denzo's replacement?" Brick asks, a devious smirk curling his lips. "The one who tried to salsa on Aria's Oasis's dance floor, thinking he's Casanova? Oh, I've got a plan for him. Do you know how much I love my veggies?"
My eyes widen, a sick grin spreading across my face. "You're sick, Brick. You know that, right?"