The Puppet Show

By Jason King

The Puppet Show is a story of superheroes, but also normal people who just happen to have amazing abilities, and how they deal with loss, challenge, fear (for themselves and others) and anger. It is also a book about the lengths some will go to control others, and the necessity for resisting them, no matter the cost. The Troubleshooters are a diverse and lovable group of people who will remind you of people you know—and, when necessary, they really kick butt. The world is not black and white, but sometimes, the shades of gray don’t matter. You have to do what is right, for yourself, your friends and loved ones, and the world. This story is what that looks like when you have metahuman powers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781663229526

Jason King

Jason King is professor of theology at Saint Vincent College in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. He is author of Faith with Benefits: Hookup Culture on Catholic Campuses and coeditor of Sex, Love, and Families: Catholic Perspectives. Currently, he edits the Journal of Moral Theology.

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 Jason King.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system

without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

844-349-9409

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those

of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6632-2951-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-2952-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021925684

iUniverse rev. date: 02/18/2022

CONTENTS

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

CHAPTER I

Hey, people gotta do what they gotta do, right? All I’m saying is how are we supposed to keep this group going with practically all of us riding into the sunset like the cowboy at the end of the movie?

The speaker leaned back in his chair with a helpless gesture of both hands. He was a metahuman, one of several newly identified classes of humanity that, while having existed in small numbers almost throughout human history, were only now becoming publicly known. In his case, he was a mutant, a person born with abnormalities in his genetic makeup. These were the source of his indigo hair and skin, as well as less immediately obvious attributes. Thomas Brody, known by his metahuman hero code-name of Shocking Blue, was not alone in the conference room, here at The Farm. There were, in fact, eight others with him.

One of these was Colonel Thomas Jackson Caldwell, the veteran soldier and government agent more commonly known as One-Eyed Jack, due to the patch he wore over his left eye. He was a grizzled man of indeterminate age, rumored to have been active in the United States military in Viet Nam—and, by some rumors, even long before. His voice was brusque at the best of times, and obviously belonged to a man used to giving orders, and having them obeyed immediately, and with an absolute minimum of question.

Relax, Blue Boy, he said. You an’ Bea ain’t exactly bein’ left destitute, y’know. You’ll still have the Farm to operate out of. Yeah, that includes the Clubhouse, he added, with a wink towards the Bea he had mentioned.

I, for one, am quite relieved to hear that, Glory Starshield observed. When I got my transfer orders, I was concerned that S.M.A.R.T. might be in danger of being shut down altogether, and I believe that would be a grave mistake.

The redheaded woman, her hair pulled back into two low slung pigtails, was a soldier agent much like Jack, though considerably younger, and much more publicly-recognized. Her real name was Gloria Summerville, and her code-name was explained by her red, white, and blue uniform, and the round shield, blue with white stars, which leaned against her chair. She was, indeed, the most well-known of all of them, to the general public, being something of an advertisement for the U.S. military. Her next destination, they were all aware, was Afghanistan, where she had already been many times before.

Hard as it may be to believe, the brass ain’t quite THAT stupid, Jack replied. They still ain’t sure how much of this ‘demon’ stuff to believe, an’ Congress and the White House are raisin’ holy hell about the secret existence of our little group, but everyone’s pretty well sold on the concept of the Troubleshooters.

Thank Heaven for small favors, Blue grumbled.

I’m not so certain that it IS such a good idea, interjected Calvin Urban. Historically, having elite units of specially-equipped government operatives has been a recipe for disaster. It just takes the wrong person in control, with the wrong set of circumstances, for it to turn into a human rights nightmare for the citizenry. That’s why I’m withdrawing my active participation at this time, and for the foreseeable future.

Urban was a young man, just short of thirty years old; and a brilliant, inventive engineer. He had built the company UrbanTech, which he had founded at fourteen, into one of the world’s foremost technological industries (and had made billions of dollars along the way). Some estimates put his worth at nearly a trillion dollars. His sandy hair, blue eyes, and charming (for the most part) personality made him one of the most famous sex symbols in the world, as well. He had, in addition to giving generously to many assorted charities, involved himself and his corporation in a number of efforts to make the world a better place. Despite all this, he was arguably best known for his most famous invention, the Urban Spaceman armor, though he was not publicly known to be the pilot.

Well, now, THAT’S rich, coming from the guy who built the most advanced personal weapon on the planet, that we know of, the gray-blue-skinned woman at the table said, with a snort or derision.

Jessica Schultz-Gibbs was a mutant, like Shocking Blue, but only reluctantly a heroine. She preferred to perform for her small following of rock fans, and live an otherwise private life with her partner, Nikita Gibbs-Schultz. She had done some unpublicized crime-fighting for the NYPD, as part of the Second Chance Program (designed to give convicted felons a chance to expiate their crimes through community service) to expunge her record of some foolish, hotheaded gang activity as a teen. It was during this time that she had met Nikki. Nikki was a vigilante doing her part to resist the veritable sea of crime that seemed to be swamping the city of New York. Nevertheless, she had left that life as soon as her sentence was complete, and she was able to convince Nikki to come with her. She had only joined the Troubleshooters to assist in solving a string of murders, which bore the indications of metahuman involvement, because Nikki missed the heroing life. The investigation had led to demons, of all things, something else her very religious little partner felt quite strongly about. Now, though, that job was over and done. As far as she was concerned, it was time for the two of them to go back home and leave heroing to heroes (though she had a feeling there might be one last complication along the way). Despite her own imminent, and much-anticipated, departure, however, she just couldn’t stomach letting the cake-eating rich boy’s hypocrisy go unchallenged.

Before he could respond to her, however, they were both interrupted by a small, quavering voice. You think we’re the Bad Guys, Mr. Spaceman? it asked, in tones of forlorn misery.

This voice belonged to Beatrice Simmons, who was by far the youngest member of the team at just over five years old. Her blonde hair was done up in high, tight, pigtails and she wore a pink dress and black tap shoes. Her age and appearance belied her measured I.Q. of 147, as well as her own metahuman abilities. She had not received her powers from genetics, like Blue and Winter-Fire, but from en uteri experimentation by a crazed scientist seeking the secret to genetic manipulation of humanity. Her mother had been kidnapped while pregnant with her and had been helpless to resist the experimentation on her unborn daughter. Charlotte Simmons had died giving birth to Beatrice on the Fourth of July, the very day Colonel Caldwell and a ticklish missions unit from S.M.A.R.T. had raided Dr. Malefic’s hidden laboratory. Though they had been too late to save the mother (and the scientist himself had escaped) they had forced him to flee without his prize, and had taken charge of the newborn baby themselves. Jack had scanned some of the abandoned records and notes on the experimentation which had gone into this child, and had immediately brought her to his friend (and head of Research and Development here at S.M.A.R.T.) Professor Sophia Mellorio. To her other duties was added taking care of and studying this newborn metahuman.

Of all her abilities, Bea’s greatest seemed to be her cuteness and adorability, which caused nearly everybody who met her to fall in love with her. All of that was now focused directly upon Calvin Urban, through teary blue eyes and pouty, quivering little lips. As he looked down at her, his expression changed almost instantly.

No, Honey, of course not, he assured her, patting her shoulder. That’s not what I meant at all. I certainly don’t think YOU are a Bad Guy or would ever be.

The little girl frowned, uncertainly. Promise?

He smiled. Yes, Bea. I promise.

Suddenly she raised a tiny hand, her little finger crooked. Pinky swear! she insisted, to the concealed amusement of most of those around the table.

Urban ignored them and nodded, solemnly, as he hooked his own pinky finger with hers. Pinky swear, he said.

Bea beamed, shaking the linked fingers firmly, but carefully. Good! But then… why are you leaving, Mr. Calvin, if you don’t think we’re the Bad Guys?

He sighed. Bea, I promise you, if you and the Troubleshooters ever REALLY need me, I will be here. Okay?

She nodded. Okies.

As will I.

The sibilant, sepulchral voice belonged to the man known as The Magus. He was, perhaps, the most startling-looking of all the assembled heroes. He was an albino, stark white skin and hair, with blazing pink eyes; but even more uncanny was the fact that his head periodically reshaped itself from one animal (and occasionally human) form to another. Currently, it held the aspect of a bear. The Magus, as might be detected from the name, was a practitioner of the mystic arts, and he dressed the part in a hooded black robe, lined along the hood, cuffs, and inner fold, with silver-threaded arcane symbols and runes.

If a true threat materializes, particularly from the Dark Realms (for make no mistake, the Infernal Lords have not and WILL NOT forget our interference) rest assured I shall stand with you. My word is my bond.

Bea shrank back into her chair her beaming smile having disappeared. There were few people she didn’t like, and she didn’t exactly DISlike him, but even SHE found him creepy. The woman sitting beside her reached over to stroke her hair, reassuringly bestowing her warm smile upon the little girl, her brown eyes warm behind her glasses. This was Professor Sophia Mellorio, one of the most brilliant and renowned scientists in the world and Baby Sister’s surrogate mother. She was a nearly fifty-year-old woman of Italian descent, her grandfather having fled Italy when Mussolini’s fascists assumed control of that country. Due to a serum, which she had developed to save herself from pancreatic cancer when she was twenty-two, she looked just as she had at that age (apart from an air of maturity brought about by experience). Bea gave a slight smile in return and sat back up straighter in her chair; she was determined to give her adoptive mother a reason to be proud of her, instead of feeling embarrassed or disappointed in her.

That is very comforting I’m sure, Magus, Glory Starshield said, tossing Bea a wink. I can add as well that, as my duties allow, I will also be glad to return and aid you as often as needed.

Well that’s all fine and dandy, Shocking Blue said, And don’t think I don’t appreciate it all the way. But it still doesn’t answer my question, now, does it?

He slapped the tabletop before him and looked slowly around the table. Now, I’m not saying Bea and I aren’t mighty and all that. But as awesome as we might be, there’re still only two of us. How are we supposed to hold the fort? Huh? What IF something unanticipated happens? Do we just call up all you guys, one-by-one, and hope at least ONE of you has the time and inclination to show up, before we both get killed?

His snort showed his opinion of THAT idea.

Colonel Caldwell sighed, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did anyone else, and the moment’s silence stretched uncomfortably. Finally, however, a small, sweet voice broke that silence.

He’s right. He is.

The voice belonged to Nikita Gibbs-Schultz. She looked up slowly from where her elfin face was buried in her hands. Her pixie-like hair, white as snow, bobbed with the movement. Her purple skin was flushed even darker, to an almost bruise-like hue, from the stress of a hard-fought decision. Her hair and skin were not the only distinguishing features she possessed which set her apart from normal humans. Her mutant nature was also proclaimed by slightly pointed ears and a permanent odor of lilacs, which got stronger when her emotions were strong. Perhaps most striking was her long, prehensile tail, which ended in a spade like a traditional devil’s tail. The great irony of her appearance, however, was that she was not only sweet-tempered and friendly; she was also a very devout Christian. She was, in fact, possessed of what actual demons termed True Faith, which they hated and feared above all things short of the Creator Himself.

Now, however, despite her normal steely resolve, doubt and determination warred almost visibly within her. She knew that her partner, Jessica Schultz-Gibbs, whom she loved second only to Jesus Christ, wanted nothing more than to go back to her music and their private lives, and Nikki wanted nothing more than Jessie’s happiness. For Nikki, however, what was RIGHT always took precedence over what she WANTED. She turned to Jessie, her violet eyes beseeching her for understanding of what she was saying, and her reasons for it.

I’m sorry, Jessie, but I can’t just leave the two of them, to handle everything alone! I understand what Mr. Urban was saying about the group being, you know, misused and all; but the best way to prevent that is to stay and make sure no abusive orders are given, or obeyed if they ARE given, right? And the world NEEDS heroes, people who can protect them from—from EVIL, real evil, like those demons we faced! I just CAN’T walk away from that responsibility; Jessie, please don’t be mad—

Nix! Jessie said, taking the young woman’s hands in her own with an actual smile, very rare for her. Relax, Baby, she continued, soothingly. Of COURSE I understand what you’re sayin’. You think I’ve been with you these last two years plus, an’ I don’t know you any better’n THAT? I’ve been expecting you to make up your mind to stay with the group this whole time! she added, with a grin.

Nikki, called Night Critter for her ability to nearly disappear in shadow or darkness, blinked. She stared at Jessie in flabbergasted startlement. Y-you HAVE? she asked, softly.

Jessie nodded. ’Course I have. THIS is what you were born to do, not house-wife for me. Now, I figure you can reach here from our place in-- what?—less than an hour, teleportin’. Hell, if need be, I can get here damn near that fast, flyin’. But then this kind of crusadin’, bein’ a hero, that’s more your thing than it’ll ever be mine. I’m only a guitar-picker and folk singer that just happens to look like some kind of alien, she finished, with a shy shrug.

Nikki smiled, relieved, and gripped the other woman’s hands tightly. You mean it? You… don’t mind? You’re not mad?

Mad? At YOU? Winter-Fire shook her head, her dark, shark-like eyes actually lit with emotion, and chuckled. No way. I’ve never been able to get good and mad at you, least not an’ stay that way for more’n a few minutes.

’Sides, she added, looking over her shoulder at One-Eyed Jack, it’s just like if you had a normal job with a longer’n normal commute. Right, Jack? She don’t hafta live HERE does she? Here at the Farm?

Nope, Jack confirmed. Matter o’ fact, we might just be able to help you out with that commute, too. Professor?

Professor Mellorio’s voice was a rich, warm contralto, and her manner was very calm and controlled, as though no emergency could possibly require losing one’s composure. Indeed, Colonel Caldwell is correct. Those of you who remain will be equipped with a security and communications identification badge. We have installed a new modification of our standard device which will enable the bearer to be retrieved by trans-spatial location adjustment. This will be possible one time in approximately twenty-four hours. However, for one already possessed of trans-spatial capabilities, such as Nikita, or Beatrice, the capacity and frequency of such retrieval is theoretically limited only by their own endurance.

Perhaps, Professor, you might restate that in layman’s terms, for the less-educated among our number? the Magus suggested, his now cat-like face showing unmistakable amusement as he glanced around the table. Winter-Fire scratched her nose with an upraised middle finger, eyes on him, drawing a chuckle from the magic-user.

Don’t bother, Professor; I’ll take care of it, Urban said, his tone and expression dark. What she said was that they not only have teleportation technology, but they also have it miniaturized enough to put into a credit card!

Essentially correct, Mr. Urban, Mellorio confirmed, without apparent embarrassment. Additionally, for someone who can naturally ‘teleport’, their capabilities are materially extended.

What’s the matter, Cal? Shocking Blue asked. You jealous YOU didn’t invent it?

Urban opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes went to Bea, and he paused for a moment, then visibly changed his mind about what he was about to say, saying instead, No, Brody. The ‘matter’ is: what ELSE does the government, or at least THIS organization, have that they AREN’T telling us about?

Not your concern, Urban, One-Eyed Jack said, flatly. You’ve got better things to do than help protect the world, remember?

Colonel! Glory Starshield said, reprovingly.

The remonstrance was too little, too late, however. Calvin Urban rose from his seat, eyes blazing, clearly on the verge of a towering rage. You are absolutely right, Colonel. I DO have better places to be. One of them is in my lab, developing my armor against the day the government decides to seize my assets. Until then, call me if you ever really need the Urban Spaceman, as long as it’s not for trampling on the rights of the citizenry.

With that, he spun on his heel and strode towards the door of the meeting room. Everyone, stunned by the turn of the conversation, watched him go in silence. The Professor was looking steadily at One-Eyed Jack, who avoided her eyes. Only one of them moved. Bea hopped down out of her chair and scampered after the man, her tap shoes loud on the linoleum of the floor.

Mr. Spaceman, wait! she cried out.

Despite his anger and resolve, the inventive genius DID stop at her call. He turned towards her just in time to gasp and stagger as the little girl ran into him, wrapping her arms around his legs and sobbing. He recovered his balance quickly, and most of his composure nearly as fast, and then stooped to hug her back.

Please don’t go ‘way mad at us, Mr. Spaceman, she sobbed. You’re our friend! I don’ want you to be mad.

Calvin looked up at the other adults helplessly, but he shook his head when the Professor opened her mouth to call the child back. He patted the little girl’s back, comfortingly, as he scrambled for the right words to say to her.

Bea, Honey, I’m NOT mad at you; I promise, he assured her. Don’t think that any of this is your fault, okay?

But you’re mad at the P’fessor, and Colonel Mr. Jack, Baby Sister replied, with a sniffle. It sounds like you’re really mad.

Well… no. No, I’m not mad at the Professor, not really, Urban said, very carefully. And did I not tell you before, you could call me Cal?

Bea had drawn back her head enough to crane her neck upward and look at him with her tear-filled blue eyes. She nodded, but then asked, An’ Colonel Mr. Jack?

Urban glanced at the expressionless Colonel and then, sighing, looked down to meet Bea’s expectant gaze once more. The Colonel and I disagree on a lot of things Honey, that’s all. He’s not always the easiest man to get along with. That’s between him and I though, okay? There’s no need for you to worry about it.

Bea looked thoughtful for a long moment, and then she said, solemnly, Colonel Mr. Jack IS grouchy sometimes, but he’s really nice, even though he’s tough. He’s a Good Guy, just like you, Mr. Cal.

Urban was silent for a long moment, seeming to stare into the distance past her head, and after a moment, she began to fidget. Yes, he said, finally, before he hugged her one last time and let her go, to stand up. I hope you’re right, Bea.

With that, he turned and left, while Bea walked back to the table still a little downcast, sensing that everything wasn’t all better despite her best efforts. Before she reached her seat, she passed Night-Critter’s chair, and felt something tap her shoulder lightly. She looked toward her shoulder catching movement out of the corner of her eye then spun back, towards Night Critter, who was looking at her and smiling. Her tail moved as if waving at her and Bea realized it had been that tail which had tapped her shoulder. She giggled. Night Critter patted her lap invitingly; instantly Bea beamed and scrambled up. Settling into the comforting shelter of her friend’s lap and arms, she stayed there as the adults began talking again. They seemed to have made an unspoken agreement to, for the moment at least, disregard Calvin Urban’s fiery departure.

Even with three of them it may prove difficult for them to meet and counter all the potential threats that may present themselves, Glory pointed out. And as Blue said, they can’t COUNT on being able to catch the rest of us free to come to their aid in a pinch. It seems that metahumans are becoming… not common, obviously, but much more frequent in occurrence and power the last decade or so.

An illusion, the Magus declared. ’Metahumans’, as you name them, have existed amongst humanity throughout its history. They merely SEEM more numerous now because news is more widespread and pervasive than in times past. What was considered myth or dismissed as natural occurrences is now shown on television for all to see.

The Magus is quite correct, Professor Mellorio added. In times predating most historical record, metahumans were the heroes and villains of myth and legend. Samson, Achilles, Alexander, Arthur, Merlin, Buddha. More recently, as more thorough records were kept, fewer metahumans were recognized at all. They began to conceal themselves, aided by the wish of the reasoning to disbelieve. Charlemagne, Joan of Arc, Leonardo Da Vinci, Napoleon, Ghandi. Now, however, there is much more difficulty hiding, and many metahumans begin to question the need to do so.

That’s real fascinatin’, Prof, but it doesn’t exactly answer the question, does it? Winter-Fire interjected. And Nix’s life might depend on that answer, and on gettin’ it RIGHT when we do.

Relax, Schultz, One-Eyed Jack advised, gruffly but not unkindly. It just so happens we’ve already considered all that, believe it or not.

Jessie sat forward, and everyone seemed to perk up, listening to this new information. Oh Yeah? And have you figured anything out? she asked, bluntly.

A few things, Jack replied, sardonically. "We old folks can rub a brain cell or two together when we really hafta. For one thing, we have been contacting various metas as we can locate them, asking for volunteers, whether as potential team members or as study subjects. But that’s for the future; we ain’t about to turn untrained operatives loose.

More immediately, we’ll have a new member for you. Since Starshield is being re-assigned by the DOD Professor Mellorio will, in addition to her research and development activities, be joining the Troubleshooters as an active member. As a matter o’ fact, the Colonel added, looking at Shocking Blue, she will be replacing Starshield as Team Leader and Field Commander.

The blue man looked up and pulled off his visor, staring in apparent surprise. You mean you’re putting the Professor in charge instead of me? he demanded.

That’s what I’m sayin’, One-Eyed Jack confirmed. You got a problem with that?

Thank GOD! Blue exclaimed, relief stark in his expression and tone. He looked at Professor Mellorio and smiled, widely. Welcome aboard, Ma’am, and thank you for not leaving me with this mess. I’ve never been in charge of anything in my life, not even a lemonade stand. I can’t even IMAGINE all the paperwork that must be involved.

Thank you, Mr. Brody, the Professor replied, with a warm smile of her own. My own experience is scarcely ample to the task, I fear. I have never participated in a battlefield situation. Nevertheless, I will perform the duty to the best of my capacity and endeavor to learn quickly the skills which I lack.

I’m certain you’ll do fine, Professor; as long as you lean on the experience of your teammates, including Bea, until you have developed some of your own, Glory advised her. You have a good team. Congratulations!

Thank you, Ms. Summerville, the Professor responded. I will remember your insight, as well as your compliment to Beatrice.

Yay! Bea cried, clapping happily. P’fessor Mommy’s gonna be the boss o’ us!

The others also applauded, and many of them laughed at the little girl’s statement. Nikki hugged her and kissed her on the top of the head. The Professor smiled at the accolades, but she looked as close to uncomfortable as any of them had ever seen her, with the exception of Colonel Caldwell.

Colonel, the Magus said, his dry, raspy voice somehow carrying over the applause. You said you had OTHER developments as well, did you not? Or was that mere hyperbole?

Nope, Jack replied. Got one more announcement for ya’ll--a brand new member.

Everyone perked up at that, turning their attention to the organization overseer. Even the Magus’ now-equine face showed genuine interest. One-Eyed Jack noticed and gave a chuckle as he checked his data pad and tapped it.

Yeah, I kinda thought that might prick up yer ears a bit, he said. The guy calls himself Sharpshot. Looks like he’s here, so I’m having the front desk send him on in.

’Sharpshot’? Night Critter said, curiously. Is he some kind of gunfighter?

Jack’s lips quirked at that question. Not exactly. Wait’ll you see him.

So, did he come here asking to join? Shocking Blue asked. Or is he one of the ones you talked about that you’re training?

Jack shook his head. No, and not quite. We found him doing vigilante work, staying mostly out of the public eye. He seemed to be pretty good at it, but a bit of a loose cannon; not near as careful as you were doing in Chicago. That being the case; for his safety and the public’s we contacted him and gave him an opportunity to join us, rather than bein’ arrested for assault an’ battery, and various other charges.

Assault! Nikki said eyes wide.

Relax, Purple, Jessie said, with a short chuckle. Most of what we do as metahuman heroes involves assault, dependin’ on how the authorities wanna take it. What I find interesting is your approach, Jack, she added, sardonically, turning to him. "’Join up or go to jail’? Good thing that cake-eater, Urban, wasn’t here to hear that. He’d plotz. Are you sure I’M going to be allowed to leave, free and clear?"

Jess! Nikki protested.

Of course you will, Schultz, One-Eyed Jack answered. You’re goin’ home to play rock star; this kid’s out there playin’ Zorro, an’ he’s no professional. If he ain’t reeled in, someone’s gonna end up gettin’ hurt more’n need be--probably him, eventually. An’ we need ‘im. Oh, we could do without ‘im if we needed to, but we can use ‘im.

Shocking Blue stared at One-Eyed Jack, his visor back in place, hiding his eyes as he shook his head, slowly. Wow, Colonel; you’re all heart.

I ain’t paid to have a heart, Brody. I ain’t the Tin Woodsman, an’ this ain’t Oz. My purpose here is damage control, on all levels, and that ain’t always pretty. As a matter of fact, it can be damned ugly sometimes; I’m gonna get it done, though.

Baby Sister gasped at the curse word, and paused for a moment. Then her voice broke the silence following Jack’s pronouncement. But… what if he doesn’t WANNA be on our team? she asked.

One-Eyed Jack looked over at her and winked. He will, sweetie, don’t you worry about that. How could he resist?

But how do you KNOW, Colonel Mr. Jack, Sir? she persisted.

Before he could respond, a buzzer drew everyone’s attention back to the door Calvin Urban had left through. A light above the sealed doors blinked red, turned green, and the doors slid into the walls with a whoosh of air. The next moment, their visitor stalked into the meeting room, his eyes taking everything in with a sweep. He followed that sweep up with a slower, more thorough perusal. He was six feet tall and athletically built, well-muscled, but not bulky. He wore a green and brown camouflaged jumpsuit with a hood up, and a ski mask over his face. His eyes were clearly alert behind the mask, and he carried himself with confidence (almost a swagger). Perhaps his most remarkable feature, however, was the equipment he carried. Over his shoulder were a recurved bow, and a quiver of arrows hung on his back. He stopped a few feet from their table and seemed to study each of them; his eyes flickered in surprise at the sight of Baby Sister and lighted with interest as they settled on Night Critter momentarily, before moving on for a longer look at Glory Starshield. The heroes were studying him as well, and some seemed nearly as surprised by him as he was by them.

So, I’m here, he said, his voice exhibiting a deep Southern drawl.

Thanks for comin’, Junior, One-Eyed Jack said, in greeting. Welcome.

I’m sorry, Sir, the newcomer replied, dryly. I wasn’t under th’ impression I had a choice in the matter.

You’ve always got choices, Son, Jack replied. It’s all a matter of bein’ willin’ to pay the consequences of those choices.

Right, the archer said, wryly. Well, anyway, I’m here; now what? I don’t suppose you called me heah just for a costume party. Is this th’ group I’m supposed to be workin’ with? As he asked the question, he glanced around at the group. Then he returned his full attention back to the Colonel, the only one he had previously met.

That’s them, Jack confirmed. Assumin’ you qualify, o’ course.

The camouflage-clad man snorted at that. Yeah, right, Sir. If I didn’t qualify, you wouldn’ta bothered to bring me in. You need me an’ my bow, an’ we both know it, so don’t waste my time. Sir.

One-Eyed Jack leaned forward, and his good eye narrowed as he fixed his gaze on the newcomer. Let’s get somethin’ straight, here, Junior. We brought you in for yer safety, and to keep you from causing undue trouble. So happens you could potentially be useful to us. So I suggest you stow that chip on your shoulder, drop that hood an’ mask, and YOU stop wastin’ OUR time.

Sharpshot stiffened, his steel gray eyes fixing on the old soldier’s like a leveled weapon. Silence lay heavily upon the room, stretching out, broken only by the hum of a computer bank. No one seemed eager to interrupt this confrontation. Suddenly, Baby Sister disappeared from Night Critter’s lap to reappear directly in front of the newcomer, regarding him guilelessly through her blue eyes. He blinked as he broke the stare down with the Colonel to focus on the child, wondering how she got there so fast.

Hi! she piped up, brightly; when she saw that she had his attention. I’m Baby Sister. My real name’s Beatrice but I HATE that name, so you can call me Bea, she explained, her nose wrinkling at the mention of her full name. What’s your name?

Sharpshot blinked again, and glanced around at the adults, to see if he was being somehow mocked. Satisfied that, if there was a joke here, these people weren’t in on it he knelt, putting him at the little girl’s level, and offered a fingerless glove-clad hand. She took it gently, and shook it solemnly, in silence, her blue eyes meeting his forthrightly, full of curiosity and genuine welcome.

Hey there, Kiddo, he greeted her. I’m called Sharpshot.

That’s not your REAL name, she said, accusingly.

No Ma’am I reckon it ain’t, he admitted.

Well? she prompted, insistently. What IS it?

He chuckled. I’m Cody Blaine, Little Bit.

She beamed. That’s a NICE name, Mr. Cody! I like you.

He chuckled again. Well now, that’s a right nice thing to say, he replied. Reckon I like you too, Sweetie.

She reached a hand up to touch his masked face. Do you have scars, Mr. Cody? Like, from an ac’ident? Is that why you hafta wear this, to cover up your face? she asked, innocently curious.

Winter-Fire chuckled at that. Blaine ignored her, though his eyes flickering towards her showed that he had heard. He refocused on Bea and answered her. No, Ma’am, I ain’t disfigured or nothin’. This is just my kickin’ a—umm, crimefightin’ mask.

Then how come you don’t want US to see your face? We’re your friends. Suddenly, she gasped, eyes widening. Leaning towards him she tried to whisper but being a child, her voice carried clearly. You aren’t UGLY, are you? It’s okay if you are. Mr. Magic’s all scary-looking, but we still know he’s a Good Guy. Mostly, she added, in a mutter.

Colonel Caldwell chuckled at that, and Shocking Blue brought up a fist to hide a grin, and pretended to cough. Night Critter and Winter-Fire looked towards the Magus who, to the surprise of all, threw his now-donkey head back and laughed a braying laughter. Professor Mellorio watched without change of expression, and Glory Starshield was keeping a professional military bearing, though her eyes glinted with amusement. Sharpshot glanced sharply around at the heroes, particularly the braying Magus, but immediately returned his attention to Bea. His eyes twinkled as he answered her question.

No, Kiddo, I don’t THINK I’m particularly ugly, an’ my Momma sure never did. What do YOU think?

With that question, he flipped his hood back off his head, and pulled his ski mask off. He shook his head to clear his blond hair out of his face and smiled at his little interlocutor. Bea gasped, her eyes growing even wider, if possible.

You look just like Cap’n Smith, in ‘Pocahontas’, Mr. Cody! she exclaimed.

His smile brightened even more at that. Why, thank ya, Kiddo! I think you’re cute as a button, too. So… the Colonel I know already. Who’re the rest of your friends, here? Or is it a secret? he asked, with a wink.

Bea turned around and started pointing and speaking. That’s Miss Glory, an’ that’s Miss Jessie, an’ Mr. Magic, an’… Her nose wrinkled as she introduced the wizard, and she passed on quickly, introducing the rest of the adults in turn.

Cody Blaine stood up and looked and listened attentively, fixing names to faces as the little girl droned on. He nodded respectfully at Glory Starshield, whom he recognized from news reports, and his eyes showed interest. Looking at Winter-Fire, he started to smile but looked away quickly as her eyes narrowed in an unfriendly expression. He raised his eyebrows at the girl’s introduction of the Magus and gave the wizard a carefully neutral nod. His nod to Shocking Blue, on the other hand, was friendly and direct seeming to take his cue from Bea’s own attitude; the other man acknowledged the silent greeting with his own. Blaine winked at Night Critter, who looked away blushing a darker purple, but he moved on quickly when he noticed Jessie’s cold stare. He smiled at the Professor and unconsciously straightened as if having entered the principal’s office at school.

—an’ the P’fessor’s also my Mommy! Bea concluded. Isn’t that NEAT? Welcome to the Clubhouse, she added, taking his hand again.

He looked back down at her, eyebrows raised. ’The Clubhouse’?

She nodded emphatically, smiling. Uh huh!

That’s what she called this building when she was old enough to talk, an’ it stuck, One-Eyed Jack explained. She’s lived here on The Farm all her life. ‘The Clubhouse’ has become the main building’s official designation, believe it or not.

Blaine grunted. Makes sense to me.

Mr. Cody, are you an archerer? Bea asked, tugging gently on his hand. Like Robin Hood or Princess Merida?

He grinned back down at her, recognizing the reference to the redheaded Disney Princess. Little Bit, Robin Hood an’ even the Brave Princess are BEGINNERS compared to me. I can outshoot Katniss Everdeen!

No false modesty from you, huh Mr. Blaine? Night Critter observed, smiling but obviously disapproving. Or ANY modesty. ‘Pride goeth before a fall’, remember.

He grinned at her. Hon, when ya got MY skills, you don’t NEED modesty!

Winter-Fire stirred uncomfortably and glowered at him; but this time he ignored her reaction, continuing to smile at Nikki. Nikki looked away, her tail swishing agitatedly, and he smirked, taking his eyes off her at last. Shocking Blue also smirked, thinking about the lesson that lay in store for this brash newcomer from Winter-Fire if he weren’t more careful. After a moment Jessie spoke, her voice dry.

So, lemme get this straight, she said. Your ‘metahuman power’ is shooting a bow? A ‘power’ that became obsolete a few hundred years ago, when they discovered this thing called ‘gunpowder’?"

You could say that—especially if you’re ignorant, he retorted. A lot o’ bad ol’ boys have underestimated me an’ my bow, an’ they paid for it in spades.

Think you could add me to that list, Cornpone? Winter-Fire asked, challengingly.

Jessie! Nikki scolded. Stop. He’s on OUR side, remember?

So, you fight crime with a bow and arrows, Shocking Blue interjected. No offense but, seriously, don’t you ever find yourself a bit… outgunned?

Sharpshot turned his attention to the blue man and stared at him impassively for a long moment, utterly still. Suddenly, he moved. In the blink of an eye he had let go of Baby Sister’s hand, shrugged his bow into his hand, nocked an arrow, and fired, all before anyone could react. The arrow whizzed past Shocking Blue’s head close enough that the fletching tickled his ear as it passed. The clamp which formed the arrow’s head closed around the neck of a bottle of beer which sat on a counter behind Blue. The arrow was connected to a small device on the bow by a cable. Blaine’s thumb pressed a button on that device, and the line retracted instantly, bringing the bottle sailing over Blue’s head. The bowman caught the bottle deftly in his free hand, popped the cap with his thumb and took a long pull on the bottle, eyes remaining locked onto Shocking Blue’s visor, before he answered his question.

Not very often, Sir.

Shocking Blue jumped to his feet, ripped off his visor, slammed his hands on the tabletop, and leaned forward eyes blazing. Are you out of your tiny little MIND? he yelled. You could have SHOT me!

The bowman shook his head and took another drink. Never happen.

How can you be so damned sure of that? Blue demanded, making Bea gasp at the expletive.

’Cause I wasn’t aimin’ to hit you, was the utterly self-assured reply. An’ Sharpshot never misses. Sure as—the world, he added, with a glance down at the little girl, not a sittin’ duck target like that.

Winter-Fire chuckled. That’s a cute trick. Not your normal broadhead or target arrow. Ya got anymore?

He shrugged, managing (just barely) to conceal his surprise at her apparent knowledge of arrows. A few. Buddy o’ mine makes ‘em for me. It helps so I don’t have to kill anyone to stop ‘em.

Yeah, yer buddy George Clifford, One-Eyed Jack said.

Blaine’s eyes flickered over to the Colonel. You ain’t gonna arrest him too, are you? he demanded.

Not plannin’ on it, Jack responded. He’s no danger. Might offer ‘im a job though. I can guarantee it’ll pay better’n his electronics store does.

That’s likely, Cody agreed. So, I take it the arrows are acceptable then? he added, with a smirk.

I have inspected a modest sampling of arrows acquired from Mr. Clifford, Professor Mellorio spoke up at last. The technology is quite impressive, the miniaturization in particular. The arrows, therefore, are perfectly acceptable as far as I am concerned. It is the marksman to whom I object."

Blaine’s smile disappeared. It was replaced by a look of confusion, which quickly became utter shock. What the he—umm… Excuse me, Ma’am?

I do not believe I spoke unclearly, but I shall attempt to clarify, Mr. Blaine, the Professor replied. I have no reservations concerning the equipment you employ. I am, rather, uncertain of your own, personal, suitability for the team.

Uh, Ma’am… Maybe you didn’t see that shot I just made? I can promise you, Ma’am, that weren’t no fluke. I can make a whole lot more difficult shots than that, on target every time.

I do not question your skill with your chosen weapon, Mr. Blaine, she assured him. Our surveillance footage of your activities makes that skill level unmistakable. There are, however, other considerations, of much greater import than mere skill at arms.

The others watched in silent interest as the Professor confronted the brash young bowman. Her tone and demeanor were calm and even, as she dispassionately gave her assessment. He, by contrast, was clearly upset and seemed nearly as confused as Baby Sister, who stood wide-eyed beside him. He gained time to get control of his tongue by returning his bow carefully to its place on his shoulder.

What are you talkin’ about, Ma’am? he asked, when he was ready.

Mr. Blaine; your exhibited behavior is brash, arrogant, and boastful. Beatrice demonstrates greater maturity, broadly speaking, and she is barely more than five years old. This demeanor of yours bespeaks a recklessness that is clearly undesirable, as well as a probable inability to work within a team, where pampering of your ego is likely to be neither desirable, nor possible. This trait in you, uncontrolled, could result in harm to a member of this team, perhaps even my daughter, durable as she is.

Suddenly, the Professor’s even, reasonable tone disappeared as her voice, though not raised, went cold and hard as a snow-covered stone, her brown eyes matching it behind her glasses. Mr. Blaine, I WILL NOT allow that.

Bea gasped in dismay. But Mommy! He wouldn’t—

Blaine placed a hand gently on the top of the little girl’s head. When she looked up at him questioningly, he smiled and shook his head. She subsided into a troubled silence and he looked back at the Professor, his manner more sober now. She continued to look at him, as though Baby Sister had not spoken.

Professor, he said, you’re right. I got a big mouth sometimes. A lot o’ the time. An’ I ain’t a bit shy about lettin’ people know what I can do, an’ how well I can do it. I don’t see any reason t’ be ashamed of my skills; but I ain’t about t’ get anybody killed, an’ sure as… umm… shootin’ not a little girl. You can take THAT t’ the bank.

Are we to simply accept your unsupported word on the safety of ourselves and our comrades, in contravention of all evidence, Mr. Blaine? the Professor asked, with devastating logic. That is neither logical nor prudent, and it could be a lethal miscalculation.

The man opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it with a sigh. The heroes watched with intense interest, and One-Eyed Jack looked particularly thoughtful as he let his gaze travel between the Professor and the archer. He was glad to see that Sophia seemed capable of handling the leadership role; not that he had harbored any doubts, but he knew she hadn’t been entirely comfortable with the idea. After a long moment, eyes on the floor, Blaine began to speak, quietly.

Look, I’ll be totally honest, all bull—all B.S. aside. I ain’t out there fightin’ crime just for kicks, or t’ show off, okay? He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. I’m from North Carolina, from way up in the mountain country. I learned t’ hunt, an’ not for fun—for th’ dinner table. That’s how I learned t’ shoot. Guns, sure, but I always loved the bow most. It just FEELS right, y’know? Anyway, we were pretty poor, Ma, Pa, Sarah an’ me. We got by, I mean, we never went hungry or nothin’, ‘cause we had our garden an’ the game but we weren’t never no kinda rich. I think maybe we were closer on account o’ that, y’know? Anyway, Pa won us a trip to Washington, D.C. off th’ radio.

He set the half-finished beer down on the table, sweeping the table’s occupants with a look of defiance, as if daring them to say anything to mock him. We was all real excited, especially Momma an’ Sarah. Sarah was fifteen, an’ th’ biggest place she’d ever seen was Asheville, ‘cept on T.V. So, we come to Washington, seen all th’ sights, for three days. Th’ last night before we was goin’ home, we went out to eat, then walked back to th’ hotel, ‘steada takin’ a cab.

He trailed off into silence again, staring at the tabletop. Bea took his hand, gently, to encourage him. Then what happened, Mr. Cody? she asked.

Jessie snorted. A family of hick—country folks I mean, wanderin’ the streets of D.C. after dark? They got mugged of course. What do you think?

’Mugged’? He looked up at her, sharply. Yeah, y’all could say that. A gang of hoods robbed us, all right. We give ‘em our money, but it weren’t good enough for ‘em. They grabbed Mama, an’ I decked one of ‘em. There were gunshots, an’ I passed out.

Oh no! Nikki breathed.

Lucky for me George found me, Blaine continued, his voice flat. I’d been shot four times, but he managed t’ pull me through. But Mama an’ Pa were dead, an’ Sarah too. An’ what they done t’ Mama an’ Sarah—he broke off; glancing down at Baby Sister, he shook his head and continued. She was only fifteen, three months shy o’ sixteen. It-- it just weren’t right.

So, you decided to make it right? Blue asked. That’s why you became a vigilante?

Yeah, the bowman replied with quiet defiance. George an’ me, we talked it over some whiles I was recoverin’. When I could get around some again he gives me this bow an’ a bunch of fancy arrows he whipped up. It took me six months of trainin’ to get good with ‘em. Most of ‘em ain’t nothin’ like shootin’ broadheads, like Winter-Fire said. But when I got used to ‘em, I went huntin’ that gang, jus’ like huntin’ buck back home, or bear—‘cept humans are a lot more dangerous. ‘Specially since I weren’t lookin’ to kill ‘em. I just caught ‘em an’ left ‘em for the cops, with enough evidence to put ‘em in jail where they belong.

Not to mention, sometimes, in the hospital, One-Eyed Jack added with a smirk. And for long stays, some of ‘em.

Sharpshot shrugged, unrepentantly. Yeah well, sometimes finesse’s gotta give way to just gettin’ the job done. But I can promise you, Miz Professor, I ain’t gonna get your little girl hurt, he said, turning to meet Professor Mellorio’s eyes. Nor anybody else neither. Not after what happened to Sarah… to my whole family.

Professor Mellorio met his gaze evenly, her face expressionless. I hope that your claims prove accurate, Mr. Blaine, she said at last. I am aware of your circumstances. Perhaps we can hope that they will have the desired effect. Moreover, it may help you to keep it in mind that Beatrice’s field code name is Baby Sister.

Blaine blinked and stiffened, wide-eyed, as if he had been punched in the gut. He looked down at the little girl in disbelief, and she grinned back up at him. He raised his head to look at the Professor, his expression incredulous. He started to speak but nothing came out, so he took a deep breath and tried again.

Wait… Ma’am, are y’all tryin’ to tell me that SHE’S a—a superhero? he asked. That she fights evil, out there in harm’s way?

You got no idea, Hillbilly, Winter-Fire remarked, thinking of the demons of Mr. Mephistopheles’ band.

It’s all right, Mr. Cody! Bea piped up to reassure him. I’m TOUGH!

Beatrice will surprise you, Mr. Blaine, Professor Mellorio stated. I dearly hope that you will surprise ME as well.

Does that mean I’m on the team, then? Blaine asked.

If no one else has any objections, then neither do I, she answered.

Not me, Shocking Blue said. He seems to know what he’s doing, if he can keep his show-off side under control.

I think he could be a great help to us, Night Critter said.

Well, if Nix is willing to take a chance on him, I’m cool with it, Winter-Fire agreed. If he gets her hurt, HE gets hurt.

I see no reason to reject him, pending a probationary period, Glory Starshield suggested.

Nor do I, the Magus added with uncustomary simplicity.

Yay! Baby Sister cried out, and hugged Sharpshot’s legs tightly. You’re one of US, now, Mr. Cody!

Sharpshot smiled as he leaned down to return the child’s enthusiastic hug. Yeah, Little Bit, I reckon I am.

Excellent, the Magus said, as he rose to his feet. It appears that I am no longer required here then. Blessings and protections upon you all, whether you are staying or going. I counsel you: do not forget the enemies we have made, for they shall neither forget nor forgive us.

As he spoke, his now bull-like head snorting steam from its nostrils, he seemed to grow in stature and mass until he towered over the table and his horns brushed the room’s high ceiling. With that final, dramatic warning delivered, his body seemed to explode into a swarm of butterflies, which filled the room for a minute until they disappeared one-by-one. The remaining heroes looked around at each other in amazement, amusement, or bemusement; particularly Sharpshot, who had no experience of the wizard’s ways. Bea smiled beatifically as the last butterfly perched on her hand, then disappeared into a glint of quickly extinguished light.

Wowee! she breathed.

The man knows how to make an exit, that’s for sure, One-Eyed Jack observed. "Well, it looks like you guys got your stuff together, at least