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Jose sat in his leatherback chair and sipped his coffee as he finished reading his copy of the Wall Street Journal. He took a moment to check his gold pocket watch. It was time for José Gutierrez to close the White Plains Credit Union.

The Hispanic man stood up and grabbed his charcoal grey suit jacket off the coat rack. José put on the jacket and turned to the full length mirror. He straightened his yellow tie to ensure the full Windsor knot was centered between the collars of his white oxford shirt. José ran his hair through his slicked back gray hair. He had changed considerably from the teen that swept the floors so many years ago.

In the past 45 years, José had seen much. Together, he and the bank had weathered junk bonds, Savings and Loan scandals, and the recent mortgage crisis. José assumed that he had seen pretty much everything.

He was wrong.

José’s wandering thoughts were forced back to reality by the sound of the bank door chime. He had made it a habit to personally see the last customer out of the bank. He opened his office door and entered the lobby of his bank.

Five men had entered. Each was dressed identical to each with starched white shirts, black suits and black ties. More surprising was the fact that each of the men wore dark Ray Ban sunglasses.

Jose smiled as he extended his hand to one of the men. “Greetings, welcome to the White Plains Credit Union, how may I be of assistance?”

The man looked at the hand but did not take it. “Well what do we have here? Some type of alien scum?”

Jose took back his hand. It had been a long time since someone had referred to him in such a way. “Excuse me, sir?” He gave a quick glance to Carl, the security guard.

A second man approached the first and put his hand on his shoulder. “Easy P, not every one here is a hostile.” He turned towards José and smiled, “you will have to excuse my friend. He recently had a run in with an Unarian Zombar Whatmath and is still a little edgy.”

“Who are you?” José asked.

“I’m Agent J, Department of Treasury, Division Six.” The agent showed some strange sort of identification.

Jose looked at the credentials, “there is no Division Six in the Treasury.”

Agent J’s smile widened, “Okay Champ, you got me.” He looked at the other men who began to move towards the four corners of the bank.

Jose was relieved to see that Carl was approaching him.

Agent J cleared his throat, “We are the MIB, your last line of defense on this planet. We are here to remove a very important item from your bank vault.”

Carl moved closer to the agent and unclipped his weapon, “Sir, is there a problem?”

“A problem?” A black man nearest the counter spoke. José noticed that his black suit was a little more stylish than the others and he wore a bola tie. “Of course we got a problem. I am Agent K. While you white collars for brains people sit here and debate whether there is a Division Six, there are things that we need to be doing. Because if we don’t very bad things will happen.” José noticed that there was a small device in the man’s hand that looked like a thick black pen. Agent K pressed a button a small red light appeared on the top. “So why don’t you just let us do our job and back the hell off.” He clicked the pen and a red light flashed into Carl’s eyes.

Carl blinked. “What was that?”

Agent J approached the man, “A deneuralizer. It makes you forget we were ever here. Did it work?”

“Uh, I don’t. . .” Carl was interrupted by the Agent’s fist as it slammed into his face. The distracted security guard did not have time to react when Agent K came up from behind and slammed the deneuralizer over Carl’s head. The guard fell to the ground over unconscious.

Agent J spoke up, “okay, we do this the hard way.” The men all pulled handguns out of their jackets. “Everyone on the floor and no one will be hurt.” He turned to an older man in the back. “Zed, get the cash.”

José got down to his knees next to Carl. He was relieved to see that the tellers had followed his example. He didn’t want anyone else hurt. “What are you looking for?”

Agent J smiled “A zorgmorph. Dirty little bugger can look like anything. Right now, it’s hiding as cash in your vault. We intend to send it home. Agent K?”

K looked over, “Yeah boss.”

J gestured to the wall. “I’ve signaled Frank and the worms for evac, use the cricket to blow the vault.”

K gave a big toothy grin, “Hell’s yeah!” José watched as K took out a very small toy-like gun. He aimed the weapon at the vault door and pulled the trigger.

The door exploded in a violent burst of light. Each of the MIB entered the bank and packed up the cash into large black evidence bags.

Suddenly, a Black Mercedes E-Class W211 smashed through the front door of the bank. José could swear that he saw a dog dressed in a tuxedo in the passenger seat. The other men entered the car, leaving only Agent K standing in front of the car.

The driver popped his head out of the window. “Whoa! There is no spoon!”

Agent J yelled at the man. “Cut! Cut! What are you doing? Matrix was last week, the Poughkeepsie job!”

The man lowered his head, “Oops, I forgot. Sorry, Director.”

José was very confused, “Director?”

Agent J took off his sunglasses and bowed. “Yes, I am the Director. And you have witnessed my latest masterpiece. Well worth the price of admission.” He tossed a gas canister into the center of the bank. “Good night.” The Director jumped into the front seat.

José watched as the Director smack the driver across the face, “’there is no spoon.’ Say that again and we are done, professionally. Drive! That gas will keep them out for hours”

José passed out.

*****

Several hours later and many miles away in the City of Salvezza, Dr. Katinsky opened the door and entered the dark room. Moonlight streamed through a clear glass door and illuminated the entire area. Without turning on the lights, the doctor looked around the newly-reconstructed welcome center to Saint Margaret’s Hospital. The middle-aged doctor was trim and handsome. He had recently shaved his beard, which made the man look considerably younger. Katinsky ran his hands down his green scrubs in a vain attempt to try to press out the wrinkles. After a moment, he gave up and looked around the room. The doctor was still amazed at how quickly the hospital had been rebuilt.

Not long ago, this room had been nearly destroyed after several white supremacists had broken into the hospital with the intention of destroying the children’s ward. Of course, the terrorists had not caused the damage. Instead, the wall, desk and floor had been wrecked when a fancy sports car came crashing through the doorway by the hospital’s resident-super heroine, Psi-Kotic. She stopped the criminals from activating their bombs and saved everyone in the hospital, including Dr. Katinsky.

In the aftermath of the attack, the federal and local law enforcement arrested several low level members of the terrorist group. Unfortunately, several key members and the leadership of the organization escaped prosecution.

Shortly after the incident, the local government, supported by some generous grants from some local businesses, provided the necessary construction crews to help rebuild the hospital. Unfortunately, the morale of the staff could not be as easily rebuilt. Several members quit in the aftermath of the attack for fear of their lives. The remaining staff members were forced to pull double and triple shifts to accommodate the basic needs of the patients and to keep the hospital open. Dr. Katinsky was, himself, in the middle of his second double shift for the week.

The middle aged doctor removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He turned to the digital clock and saw that it was nearly three am. Katinsky took the clipboard from the welcome desk and checked the sign out list. He searched for a single name: Beatriz Ortiz. It was not there. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud click. Suddenly, the room became awash in bright fluorescent light.

An older man stood in the doorway. Like Dr. Katinsky, the new arrival wore faded green hospital scrubs. However, the grey haired man also wore a starched white lab coat over his scrubs. He spoke in a deep voice, “Did your mother not tell you that you will get eye strain by reading in the darkness.”

“Dr. Gier. I did not realize you were on call tonight.” Katinsky tried to smile. Doctor Gier joined the hospital staff shortly after the incident. Katinsky didn’t know much about the doctor other than the fact that he was willing to help out, which made him more than welcome. Katinsky gestured to the clipboard in his hand.

“I just wanted to check on the status of a patient.”

Gier returned the smile, “And where is patient Ortiz tonight?”

Katinsky shuffled uncomfortable, “How did you . . .”

Gier gave a hearty laugh, “Please, the amount of time you spend with that woman. I’m surprise you even have to check that chart.”

Katinsky blushed. He was one of the few people who knew the full extent of Beatriz Ortiz’ condition. She had come to Saint Margaret’s after she was horribly disfigured during a suicide bombing of a local bodega. For some unknown reason, the explosion activated Betty’s latent brain power and allowed her to absorb a person’s abilities through physical contact.

Unfortunately, the accident had a horrible side effect that, Katinsky feared, risked Betty’s sanity.

The bomber was named James Jefferson, a card carrying bigot who had lost his job when the work was outsourced to a foreign country. As a result, he joined the Order of White Loyal Supremacists, the OWLS—the organization responsible for the attack on the hospital. His first mission turned out to be his last. Betty was the only survivor and pieces of James were imbedded under her skin as human shrapnel. As a result, Betty was forced to share her body with James. Betty normally remained in control as the dominant personality. But when she was sleeping or unconscious, James has the ability to take control of her body. He did just that once he discovered that the OWLS were going to murder children. After Betty was incapacitated by the OWLS, James was able to take over and stop them at the last moment.

Since the attack, the two personalities had reached a détente of sorts with Dr. Katinsky’s therapy sessions. James tried to behave himself and had even curtailed his use of racial epitaphs. In return, Betty agreed to leave the OWLS to the police. Katinsky had dedicated most of his time and energy to treat her and to find a cure for her.

There was only one thing that both Betty and James agreed on. Betty should continue as Psi-Kotic, a costumed identity utilized by Betty in her attack against the OWLS. Each night, over Katinsky’s objection, Betty would don her electric blue costume and sneak out of the hospital.

Katinsky realized that Gier was staring at him. He tried to change the subject, “What brings you to the welcome center, Doctor?”

“Apparently, we are seeking the same information. When I was on rounds, I noticed Ms. Ortiz was not in her room.” Dr. Gier paused for a moment before adding, “I was concerned.”

Dr. Katinsky looked at the pad, “Well, she had signed out for the night. I guess she is visiting friends or family.”

Dr. Gier stared at Dr. Katinsky for a few seconds as if deciding whether to challenge the allegation. Then he turned to the door, “Well, I guess that is her right. After all, we aren’t running a prison. Good night doctor.” Dr. Gier left the room. Dr. Katinsky waited a few minutes before forging the log book to cover his lie. Obviously, Betty had snuck out again.

He could only wonder where Psi-Kotic was and what sort of trouble she was getting into.

*****

Meanwhile across town, two women were having a conversation in a dark alleyway. From their attire, it was clear that both women were working girls. Their profession was the oldest in the world. The first, a black woman dressed in leopard print spandex , spoke, “Slow night, hunh, Niki?”

Her companion, a blonde in a red miniskirt, absently-mindedly chewed her gum, “I guess Syntia. Maybe we should call it a night.”

Syntia smiled, “You’re probably right. Besides, I need to check on my portfolio anyway. I invested in some REITS and I want to diversify my investments before the international market closes.”

Niki fixed her lipstick, “REITs? In this market? Seriously honey, you are going to be on your back a really long time with an investment strategy like that. I’m telling you, currency futures are the way to go. You can hedge the longs and shorts to keep your out-of-pocket costs low.”

A man entered the alleyway. He was covered in shadows so the girls did not immediately notice him. The man coughed to get their attention. Niki put her lipstick away, “Maybe we spoke to soon.” She changed the tone of her voice, raising it a few octaves to sound more flighty. “Hey sweetie, yoo’se see something you like?”

Syntia joined the masquerade and made her voice huskier. “Original Syn is here to be your mamma. Have you been a bad baby?”

The figure spoke. “How much. . .”

The man stepped into the light. He was over six feet tall and muscular. His black leather motorcycle jacket had spikes on the shoulders and his nose was pierced in several places. The dim streetlight illuminated the potential customer’s bare chest and showed that his right nipple was also pierced. A gold nametag with the word “Alan” was attached to a matching chain that ran from his nipple into his denim jeans and hinted at further more sensitive piercings.

It was a slow night and Syntia took the opportunity for a hard sell. She walked up to the man and put her finger on his chin, “Well that all depends, Baby, on what you want.”

Alan cleared his throat and repeated “How much . . “ He reached out and grabbed Syntia’s chin. “How much for the Umpa Lumpa, Wonka? I’m a busy man?” He easily picked the prostitute up off the ground with one hand. Syntia gasped as her feet left the ground.

Seeing her colleague in trouble, Niki quickly rushed the taller man and attacked. She leapt on the man’s back and tried to claw at Alan’s eyes. Very calmly, Alan reached over his shoulder with his empty hand. “What we have here is a failure to communicate!” He grabbed Niki by her hair and pulled hard. The prostitute’s blonde wig came off in his hand. “It’s a man, babee!”

This made Niki very angry. “You did not just take off my hair and call me a dude!” She raked her pink fingernails against the man’s face. Alan reached back again and, this time, grabbed Niki’s shirt and tossed her like a rag doll across the alleyway. The prostitute slammed into a dumpster before slumping to the ground.

Alan turned back to Syntia.

A woman’s voice echoed in the alleyway. “Put her down.”

“Shirley you can’t be serious?” The man taunted as Syntia’s legs flailed. The prostitute gasped for air.

A woman in electric blue spandex gracefully landed on top of a nearby dumpster. The costume covered her entire body and face and was tight enough to reveal the woman’s athletic build. “I am. And don’t call me serious.” The woman’s accented voice boomed in the darkness. “Now, let her go.”

“The game’s a foot.” Alan let go of Syntia and turned to the source of the voice. Syntia fell to the ground in a coughing spasm as she gasped for air. It only took a second for her to get to her feet.

“Psi-Kotic!” The man ignored Syntia and moved towards the newly-arrived rescuer.

Psi-Kotic stood on top of the dumpster with her hands on her hips. She yelled to Syntia. “Leave now!” Psi-Kotic, looked down at the man. “This psycho is mine!”

A second later, the prostitute was racing out of the alleyway.

“Engage! Mr. Crusher!” Alan rushed towards the dumpster.

Psi-Kotic jumped off the dumpster and punched her attacker hard in the face. Her fist connected with a crack and knocked the man back into the wall.

Alan put his hand up to his cheek and wiped the blood with a smile. “Tastes like chicken.” He charged again, moving at an impossible speed.

“Oh mierda!” Psi-Kotic clumsily tried to get out of the Alan’s way. The man connected and knocked the costumed woman into the dumpster. Psi-Kotic gasped as the wind was knocked out of her. He followed-up with hard karate chop to her neck. “Concentrate, Daniel-San!” The heroine slumped down in Alan’s arms.

With ease, Alan picked the limp body of Psi-Kotic over his head and slammed her down the ground. “You had me at hello!” She flailed her arms and kicked Alan. With ease, the stronger man pinned Psi-Kotic’s arms with one hand and held her body down with his legs. Alan punched her hard repeatedly in the face. “No more wire hangers, ever!” The heroine grunted in pain with each impact. Eventually, she stopped moving. He pulled Psi-Kotic closer and examined the hero, she was clearly unconscious.

The man reached for her mask and began to pull, “I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle with a compass in the stock, and this thing which tells time.” The fabric of her costume began to rip, revealing her scarred neck and cleavage. Without warning, the heroine snapped awake. With great effort, she was able to free her arm. The panicked heroine reached up and grabbed Alan’s nametag and yanked hard.

The man screamed in agony, “Khan!” Psi-Kotic kicked Alan hard, knocking him off of her. She clumsily rolled to her feet. With disgust, Psi-Kotic tossed the metal piercing to the ground. She winced when she noticed that pieces of flesh were still attached to both sides of the chain.

Slowly, the Latin super heroine walked over to her attacker. Alan was doubled over in pain. Psi-Kotic took the opportunity to kick the man hard in the crotch. With a squeal, Alan fell to the ground. He was crying, “No more, No more.” Psi-Kotic continued to brutally kick the defenseless man until he was unconscious, lying in a pool of his own blood. After a moment, the heroine removed a plastic restraint from out of a secret compartment in her belt and tied Alan’s hands behind his back.

Psi-Kotic heard sirens in the distance. She knew that the police would be there soon to collect Alan.

Psi-Kotic took a deep breath and fixed her mask. She ran her tongue against the inside of her mouth and felt the loose tooth and cursed. Her posture made it clear that the heroine was exhausted. She slowly turned towards Niki.

The prostitute had regained consciousness and was reaching for her wig. She looked up at Psi-Kotic,

Psi-Kotic helped her up, “You ok?”

Niki readjusted her hair, “Just a little shook up, hon. Thanks. I don’t want to know what would have happened if . . .” She looked at her bloodied attacker on the ground. “Wow, you really beat the crap out of him.”

Psi-Kotic nodded affirmatively.

“Well, uh, thanks again.” Niki picked up her purse and turned to leave, “I better go check on Original Syntia.”

Psi-Kotic put a gloved hand up and stopped the prostitute. “You on the clock?”

Niki looked confused, “You mean, am I taking customers?”

Psi-Kotic nodded affirmatively.

“C’mon, it’s harmless!” Niki looked nervous, “You ain’t gonna turn me in for turning tricks?”

Psi-Kotic shook her head in the negative.

Realization dawned and Niki smiled. “Wait a minute, are you asking me if we can?” She laughed, “are you trying to hire me?”

Psi-Kotic nodded affirmatively and grinned under her mask, “I reckon Ah am sugah. How much?”

Niki gave a hearty laugh and took the costumed girl’s arm, “Honey, this one is on the house. Call it the ‘life-saving superhero discount.’”

The pair walked down the alleyway and into the darkness.

*****

Meanwhile across town, very strange activity was occurring in an old dark warehouse. Inside, a makeshift laboratory was alive with the hum of gothic looking machinery. Sparks hissed as electricity jumped from one transistor to another. Over the next several hours, an elderly white man with wild white hair and dressed in a white lab coat and protective goggles eagerly bounded from one machine to the next one. His knotty hands rapidly adjusted the various knobs and buttons on each machine. Occasionally, the old man would take a break to look up at the table suspended in the center of the room.

On the table lay a figure covered by a white sheet. Occasionally, lightning would strike the table and the figure would spasm for several seconds. The old man appeared hopeful as a large charge of static electricity struck the covered figure causing it to jerked spasmodically. The figure stopped moving.

After several minutes of silence, the old man pouted and sighed, “Another failure!”

“Well then, try harder, Dr. Auchter” a voice from the shadows boomed.

Dr. Lonnie Auchter jumped at the sound of the voice. He turned to see who had spoken and immediately recognized the imposing figure. “Grandmaster!” He stammered, “I had no idea you were here. If I did, I would clearly have. . .”

“You would have still failed.” The deep voice bellowed as the speaker moved into the laboratory lights revealing the tall frame of Lee Sherman. He was dressed in a conservative black suit. His naturally handsomeness was marred by a large scar on his right cheek. “I honestly do not know why I tolerate your incompetence.”

Auchter adjusted his test tubes. “We have had some success. Most recently, Project Easy Rider worked very well. Alan’s enhanced strength is remarkable.”

Lee rolled his eyes, “Yes. But the side effects were intolerable; especially the recurrence of violent sadism and that obnoxious compulsion to quote from movies.”

“Ah yes, quite annoying.” He looked around his laboratory, “Where is Alan? I thought it was very quiet here.”

Lee sneered, “He was arrested. He was found beaten nearly to death by,” the tall man paused for a moment, looking for the right word, “that mongrel.”

The older scientist looked up and smiled, “He may have been able to get me the girl’s DNA sample?”

Lee pulled out a blackberry to check a message. “I am afraid that is simply not possible, he will soon be dead.”

Auchter pouted again. “But, any information on Psi-Kotic could be essential to. . .”

Lee interrupted, “Don’t say that name.” He touched his scarred cheek as he turned to leave. “Alan could identify us, he needed to be removed.” The large man stopped in the doorway and turned back to Auchter, “Besides Lonnie, I have people in place to get you what you need. Don’t disappoint me!” Lee slammed the door as he left the room. The test tubes shook with the vibration of the door’s impact.

Dr. Lonnie Auchter stood alone in silence for a moment. The rising sun could be seen through one of the large windows. After a moment, the scientist turned back to the covered body on the table. Upon seeing the results of his labors, his smile returned.

*****

Across town, the sun beamed in through the windows and directly into Beatriz Ortiz’ eyes. “¿Dónde estoy? where am I?” She looked at the clock and realized that she still had ninety minutes before the foreign currency trading desk opened in Hong Kong. Betty shook her head as she sat up, “Currency trading? Where did that thought come from?” That’s when Betty finally realized that she was not wearing any clothes. She lifted the sheet to confirm her fears.

Betty quickly scanned the room and located her clothes folded on the nearby chair. She jumped out of bed and moved to the chair. She saw her reflection in the mirror. Although several months had passed since the bombing, she still was not comfortable with her scars. But, she also noticed that she was badly bruised as well. “¿Que happened?”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a woman’s voice, “Hey sugar. I was wondering if you would ever wake up.” Niki stood in the doorway, now with her natural short brown hair, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

Betty grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around her body trying to cover her scars. “Uh, hi!”

“Baby, I have seen a lot worse than them.” Niki offered Betty a cup of coffee.

“Gracias.” Betty took the coffee cup from the woman.

“I’ve got to get to class. Can you let yourself out?” Niki asked as she grabbed a backpack off the bed.

Betty was still confused, “uhm, sure.”

Niki leaned in to give Betty a quick kiss on the cheek, “Thanks again for saving my life. Don’t worry, last night will be our secret. Wow, who knew?” Niki slammed the door on her way out.

Betty stood wrapped in a sheet in the center of the strange woman’s apartment. “Who knew what?” Realization dawned on her. She yelled, “James Jefferson, what have you been up to!”

*****

Miles away, the midday sun shined through large bay windows. The Director sat on a large backed canvas director’s chair. He had abandoned his black suit for a pair of kakis and a blue polo shirt. The director slowly sipped his coffee and enjoyed the morning sun with his eyes closed.

His driver rushed into the room with a stack of newspapers in his arms, “Mr. Director, sir, I think there is something you should see.”

The Director did not open his eyes, “Lucas, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t read reviews in the press?”

Lucas paused for a moment, expecting another lecture about the criminal art form. When one did not come, he continued, “No sir, there is another story I thought you should see.” He offered one of the papers, “In the Salvezzian Times”

The Director sighed, “Give it here.” Lucas handed over the newspaper. “Salvezza? What a backwater place.” The director read a story about Alan’s arrest. “Interesting, it appears that a powerful criminal with a movie obsession was arrested after being brutally beaten by a costumed adventurer known only as Psi-Kotic.”

Lucas smiled, “I thought you might find that interesting. I know we general avoid cities with costumed heroes in it, but . . “

The Director was already planning, “I always wanted to make a super hero feature. With this man as part of our production team, we can finally make my masterpiece.” He looked up at Lucas, “Get me, the Agent on the phone.” He paused for dramatic effect.

“We are going on location to Salvezza.”