Dom waddled up the path of Stringfellow Hawke’s mountain cabin, 500 miles from the nearest town or phone line.

“String! Come on, we’ve got to fly some secret missions in our stealth helicopter that wails like a banshee in heat!”

String, shirtless, said nothing and continued playing his cello for the majestic eagles and mountain lions. 500 miles away in the nearest town, women swooned.

“What’s the point, Dom?” asked his perfectly sculpted abs. “We should fly because a vague government organization, known only by an undefined acronym, tells us to go?”

“But String!” Dom was spitting. “Your brother is still alive! I know we said he was dead last season, but this year he’s alive!”

At the thought of his brother SinJin, String shed a lonely, awesome tear which fell to his chest. 500 miles away, several women experienced spontaneous sexual climax.

“Fine, Dom. But you have to change out of your satin ball cap and Heart Tour jacket and into one of our matching flight suits.”

“Attaboy, String!”