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The window slowly rolled down. A young man with slicked black hair and a grey pinstripe suit leaned out of the car and asked, “Is there a problem, Officer?”

The Director adjusted his tan sheriff’s hat and then centered his large padded belly on the middle of his abdomen. “Is there a problem, son? The problem is that I’m gonna barbeque yo’ass in molasses!”

“Excuse me?” The driver asked in surprise, “I don’t understand . . .”

The Director did not let him finish, “What we’re dealing with here is a complete lack of respect for the law. That’s it, get out of the vehicle. And give me your wallet, your phone,” the villain noticed the businessman’s wrist, “and that Rolex watch, too.”

“My watch? I don’t see how that is germane to the situation.”

The Director exploded, “The gosh dang Germans got nothin’ to do with it.” He pulled the businessman from the car and kicked him in the rear end. “We call that ‘an attention-getter.’”

Lucas watched from the passenger seat of the tan 1977 Lemans as the Director shook down the young professional. The production assistant pulled out his cell phone and looked at it. He had not heard from the Agent in some time. Lucas examined the screen on the untraceable phone, which was designed to reroute incoming calls through three servers before finally connecting. The single bar showed that he was in an area with very low reception. Perhaps that was the reason he had not heard from the Agent. He switched off the anti-trace technology in an effort to boost the signal.

The Director opened the driver side door. “Dumsommunabish.” He dumped the man’s wallet and other valuables on the seat. “I think it’s time for lunch. I’m in the mood for a Diablo sandwich and a Dr. Pepper. But, we got to make it quick; I’m in a gosh-dang hurry.” He turned to Lucas and asked, “You want something, Junior?”

This was the assistant’s cue. Lucas quickly slid the phone into his pocket and looked at the lines he had written on his hands, He spoke in a dullard’s voice, “Hushpuppies, Daddy!”

The Director responded, “We got no time for that crap!” He muttered under his breath as the villain put the car in gear.

The Director’s car pulled up alongside the Mercedes. The villain leaned his head out the window to address the businessman handcuffed to the bumper, “I don’t want you to do nothing. Don’t try to get free. Don’t go home. Don’t eat nothing. And, don’t play with yourself. It wouldn’t look nice on my highway.”

The businessman looked up and replied, “No sir.”

The Director drove a few feet and then stopped. As an afterthought, the villain put the car in reverse and backed it up until his window once again lined up with the annoyed businessman. The Director hung his head out of the driver’s side window and added, “Oh, you can THINK about it... but just don’t do it!”

Lucas smiled as he counted the money from the stolen wallet.

Meanwhile, half-way across the country in the city of Salvezza, a group of soldiers in the lobby of Saint Margaret’s were about to implement their attack.

“Yes, sir!” The men responded in a conspiratorial whisper as they rose up to join their leader. Then, all four men moved to the elevator. Before anyone could press the call button to summon the elevator, the door opened. Inside was a clean cut Doctor in surgical scrubs and a horribly scarred Spanish woman.

The woman spoke, “I’m sorry I wasn’t very good company at dinner, Dr. Katinsky. This whole thing is . . .” She tried to look for the right word.

Dr. Katinsky never let her find it. Instead, he simply smiled as he exited the elevator. “We can talk later, in private. Right now, I should do my rounds. See you later, Betty.” Betty held the door for the men in trench coats and let the four people on the elevator.

Katinsky watched as the elevator doors closed and sighed. “I better finish up that report.” The exhausted doctor’s hand moved to rub his beard, a habit developed through years of stressful living. His hand only touched bare skin and Katinsky remembered that he had shaved it off. The doctor entered the welcome center. But, someone was already sitting in his favorite chair behind the large oak reception desk and looking through a manila folder.

“Dr. Gier, what are you doing here?” Katinsky asked, as he approached his older colleague.

Gier quickly closed his folder and looked up, “Dr. Katinsky, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Doctor.” Katinsky watched as Gier shoved the unlabeled folder in an ornately stitched leather satchel on the floor. Katinsky repeated his question, “but, what are you doing here?”

Gier paused for a moment and looked around the room. Then, the doctor gave a warm smile. “Why the same as you, I suppose—catching up on paperwork. I like the quiet solitude.”

Katinsky nodded. “I guess that makes sense. That’s the same reason I come down here to work. I find it so much easier to work away from the madness of the hospital ward.” The younger doctor moved around to the back of the desk and opened a cabinet.

Gier’s grin widened, “You seem unusually tense. Is something wrong?”

Katinsky reached in the cabinet and pulled out a manila folder that looked identical to the one Gier was reading from a moment ago. “Sorry, I’m just a little tired after administering treatment to our newly admitted patient all last night. I guess it’s making me jumpy.”

Gier’s eyes lit up at the mention of the mysterious new patient admitted the night before. “Oh, is he awake? Do we know any more about him?”

“Nothing else, I’m afraid,” Katinsky lied. The truth was that he knew all about Alan. Katinsky knew that Alan had tried to assault two prostitutes the night before. Alan might have killed them if it were not for the timely intervention of Salvezza’s newest superheroine, Psi-Kotic. He also knew that Alan possessed enhanced strength and an inhumanly high tolerance to pain. Finally, he knew that Alan had defeated Psi-Kotic and knocked her unconscious. Alan was about to kill the heroine, when James, the terrorist that shares Betty’s mind, took over her body and beat Alan to a bloody pulp.

Katinsky realized that his mind had wandered and that Gier was staring him. The doctor quickly added, “I’m not sure we’ll ever know. Since he is well enough to travel, the police are coming to transfer him to the prison hospital today.”

“Well then, we will never know. So, what time is the transfer?” Gier took off his glasses and polished them.

Katinsky opened the folder, “I’m not sure, let me check.” He flipped through the file. Once the doctor had flipped through all the pages, a concerned look formed on his face. Katinsky opened to the front of the file and reexamined its contents. “That’s strange. The transfer form is not in here.”

“Oh?” Gier looked over at the folder and tried to read its contents.

Katinsky caught the older doctor reading his material and closed the folder. He remembered that Gier was reviewing a similar folder when he came down. “Dr. Gier, by any chance, you haven’t been looking at my patient information?”

“Heaven forbid. Dr. Katinsky!” Gier gasped, “That would violate my Hippocratic oath, not to mention several federal laws. When did you last have the forms?”

Katinsky thought for a moment and said, “The last time I remember seeing them was when I was with Aggie. Before dinner with Betty, then . . .”

“Oh, I had no idea Ms. Ortiz had returned,” Gier interrupted. Katinsky noted something strange in the older man’s voice. Gier continued, “Perhaps you left the paperwork at Aggie’s reception desk. As I recall, you were a little discombobulated when I saw you up there.”

Katinsky remembered the incident with Aggie’s yarn and blushed again. “Let me call her and check.” He picked up the reception phone and dialed. The line connected. “Aggie, it’s Dr. Katinsky. Did I leave some paperwork at your desk? You found it? That’s great; I will be right up to get it.” Katinsky hung up the phone and turned to Gier, “You were right. Aggie had it.”

Gier smiled, “And that is that. Mystery solved. No sinister motives; just a simple case of careless accident.”

Katinsky returned the grin, “Yeah. Uhm, listen, I’m sorry about accusing you.”

Gier stood up and patted the younger doctor on the back. “Nonsense, my boy, you were just being a good doctor! Go get your form. I will join you in a moment and we can continue our conversation.”

Katinsky nodded and moved towards the elevator. When the elevator doors opened, Katinsky stepped in. As the doors closed, he turned to see that Gier had removed a small cell phone from his leather bag.

Lee Sherman sat on a leather couch and sipped from a glass of Hennessy Beaute du Siecle Cognac as he listened to Bizet’s Carmen. The sound of an antique ringer echoed throughout the room. Sherman stood up, adjusted his silk robes and walked to the dark red oak side table. He caught a glimpse of his handsome features in a mirror on the back wall. Well, he would consider himself handsome except for one imperfection—the large scar that ran down his cheek. He turned away from the mirror in disgust and looked at the oak side table. An ornately decorated black telephone sat in the center of the table. This phone, which had once belonged to the family of General Stonewall Jackson, was a gift from the O.W.L. leadership. A small black remote control lay next to the phone that greatly contrasted with the classic look of the antique. He picked up the small device and lowered the sounds of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. Once the room was quiet, Sherman picked up the black receiver and growled, “I told you not to call until it is done.”

“Mr. Sherman. You have a problem,” someone said using a male voice changer. “You have a problem.”

The southerner frowned causing the scar on his face to form a crease. “Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“That is not important,” the mechanically altered voice droned, “the only thing that matters is that the O.W.L. strike force you sent after Alan Monroe is about to have an uninvited complication of the costumed variety.”

“Psi-Kotic!” Sherman said the Latin heroine’s name like a curse.

“Exactly. Your small group of men does not stand a chance,” the voice responded. With a chuckle, the voice added, “I don’t want to tell you how to run your organization. But, I would send help if I was you—a lot of it.” There was a loud click as the line disconnected.

“Wait, who is this?” Sherman insisted. But, it was too late. The voice was gone and replaced by a dial tone. “Blast!” He slammed down the phone.

Sherman put his hand up to his face. “She needs to be put in her place once and for all.” A second later, Sherman picked up the receiver again and dialed a number.

The call connected and a voice picked up, “Lonnie Auchters Office—Dr. Auchters speaking. Of course I am speaking, how else would you be able to hear me? After all, I am on the telephone and who else would be speaking.”

“Auchters, it’s me. We have a problem.” Sherman was sure that the man sounded drunk.

There was silence on the other side of the call. Finally, Auchters sang, “Ooooooooooh. A problem to be solved. I am excellent at problems, what with the science and the knowing of the things and such. I always say knowing is our business, and there is no business like know business. That is indeed the best business I know.”

Sherman changed his diagnosis from intoxication to insanity. The O.W.L. leader tried to ignore his scientist’s idiotic babbling, “How many O.W.L.s are still active.”

Auchters spoke quickly, “I think there are twenty, well twenty-two counting you and me. Twenty three if you count me twice or you twice or even more if you count both of us twice. Come to think of it, there are an infinitesimal number if you count every one more than once. And that doesn’t even take into account the innumerable alternate reality versions of ourselves where . . . .”

Sherman growled, “How many soldiers, Auchters?”

There was silence. Finally a sufficiently chastised Auchters mumbled, “Twenty soldiers.” The doctor excitedly added, “Plus or minus one. You know how tricky mathematics can be.”

Sherman sighed, “Get every available OWL to St. Margaret’s Hospital. We are stopping this costumed Mongrel once and for all.”

Auchters gasped, “But if we send everyone, then there will be no one . . .”

“Do it!” Sherman slammed down the phone’s receiver. It shattered on the table. Small plastic pieces cut his hand. Sherman looked at the blood on his palm, his hand was shaking. The sophisticated leader of the O.W.L.s took a deep breath and slowly released it. Then, with a steadier hand, Sherman picked up the remote and pressed a button, leaving a bloody fingerprint on the ‘play’ button. The introduction from Carmina Burana blared over the speakers. Sherman sat back on the leather coach and closed his eyes. He tried to visualize the demise of Psi-Kotic at the hands of nearly two dozen highly trained mercenaries.

*****

Aggie worked on her knitting at the nurse’s station. She deftly single cross crocheted the final thatch with her cable needle. The nurse held up the long cylindrical garment to see her progress.

Doris exited one of the patient’s rooms and walked over to Aggie’s work station. She inspected the garment on the desk, and pronounced, “That is coming along, nicely. Is it a scarf?”

Aggie smiled, “No, it’s . . . nothing so grand. It’s just a little something to help an old woman get through the night shift.”

The elevator bank dinged. Aggie looked up and saw the doors open. Four muscular men with crew cuts exited onto the floor. Aggie could see that Betty stood in the back of the elevator car and the older nurse could not help but notice that the girl looked trouble. Aggie gave Betty a broad smile. After a second, Betty noticed her and the Hispanic woman returned the smile before the door closed.

The phone rang. “I guess that’s my cue to get back to work.” Doris said as she gave a quick wave, “I’ll leave you to your call.”

Aggie put down her knitting and picked up the receiver. It was Doctor Katinsky, asking whether he had left some paperwork at her station. Aggie looked around and found the transfer papers in the center of the desk. “Odd, these weren’t here before,” the older nurse mused as she picked up the paperwork. “I have it here, Doctor,” Aggie said into the phone as she examined the forms in front of her. “You still have plenty of time before the transfer. Do you need me to . . . .? Very well, I’ll keep it for you here, dear.”

Aggie hung up the phone and turned back to her knitting. She was startled to see one of the men from the elevator standing on the other side of the desk at her nurses’ station. His name tag identified him as Carter. She folded up the transfer paperwork and tucked it into her knitting bag as she asked, “Can I help you?”

Carter opened his trench coat to reveal a shot gun handle, “Get up quickly and quietly and move to the center of the room.” Aggie looked at the phone a second before the man reached down and yanked the cord out of the wall. He leaned in and whispered to the old nurse, “Move it! I will not hesitate to kill everyone in this room!”

Aggie scooped up her knitting materials and moved to the center of the room, slightly ahead of her armed escort. When she was halfway to the center, Aggie saw that Doris and a few of the candy stripers were already sitting on the floor next to Chad and Justin, the two hospital orderlies. Although Doris was free, the thugs had fastened the orderlies” arms behind their heads with plastic tie handcuffs. Across the room, Doris saw that a similarly armed man had corralled several patients and their visitors into a nearby cubicle. One of the prisoners, dressed in an Armani suit, looked around with intense interest at the chaos around him.

The elevator bank dinged. Aggie turned to see that Doctor Katinsky had arrived. The doctor hurriedly exited the elevator and moved to the nurse’s station.

Once the door closed, Aggie’s guard cocked his gun and spun to the newly-arrived doctor. “Get down!” The soldier yelled as he aimed his weapon at Katinsky’s head.

“Whoa!” The doctor yelled, thrusting up his arms. “This is getting to be a habit. Who are you and what do you want?”

The guard moved to the doctor and shoved him to the ground. Before Katinsky could move, Carter tied Katinsky’s wrists with the plastic cuffs and he was dragging the doctor to the center of the room. With a thud, Katinsky joined Aggie on the floor.

“Aggie, what’s happening?” Katinsky whispered as he tried to free his arms.

“Child, I have no idea. But, this is getting old.” The nurse responded in a hush tone as she pulled her knitting closer.

“Don’t worry,” Katinsky whispered to the nurse, “The police are coming to transfer the patient, and they should be here soon.”

“I know.” She whispered back as she slightly opened her knitting bag, revealing the transfer orders. “But, they don’t. Maybe Dr. Gier heard the noise and can . . .”

“Oh my gosh, Doctor Gier,” Katinsky said in alarm. “He was right behind me!”

As if on cue, the elevator door opened and Gier entered the hospital ward. The older doctor was lost in thought and so focused on his clipboard that he did notice the activity and chaos he was walking in to. Quietly, Harry moved to intercept the doctor, while another armed man snuck around Gier’s flank and was prepared to slam the doctor with the butt of the gun.

“Doctor Gier, look out!” Katinsky yelled, before being shoved to the ground by a kick from Carter.

Gier looked up at the approaching gun man in alarm and apparently oblivious to the fact that another soldier was behind him about to strike. Gier glanced in the reflection of an oxygen tank and, at the last moment, the old doctor ducked under the flanking soldier’s weapon and stepped into the guard. As he came up from his crouch he slammed his clipboard into the jaw of the gunman.

The gunman dropped his weapon and fell back onto the floor. Before Gier could pick up the shotgun, he noticed the three red targeting dots on his chest as the other guards trained the targeting sights on the older doctor. Harry spoke, “I wouldn’t be a hero if I was you. Move to the center of the room and let Polk cuff you.”

The doctor scoffed, “Apparently, you have me at a slight disadvantage.” Slowly, Gier put his hand over his head and moved to the center of the room.

The guard he had hit with the clipboard, who Gier now knew was Polk, kicked the back of his legs and forced the doctor to the ground. “Nice try, grandpa!” Once on the floor, Polk cuffed Gier’s hands with a plastic tie.”

”Well, that could have gone better.” Gier cursed under his breath. Aggie stared at the older Doctor, “Lands sake, Doc. Where did you learn to fight like that?” Gier sighed, “My dear, I have developed some rather unusual skills in far too many wars, my dear.” The old Doctor sulked. “Not that it helped our present situation.”

Katinsky looked over across the room at the fire door that led to the stairs and saw a figure dressed in electric blue looking onto the floor. Katinsky leaned over to Gier and consoled the doctor, “Don’t worry. I think help is on the way.”

*****

Betty held the door for the men in trench coats and let the four people on the elevator. Suddenly, there was a loud ringing in her skull as James screamed directly into her brain, “Girlie, you have to listen! We’se got trouble!”

Betty did her best to ignore him and instead focused her attention on the men who had entered the elevator. She noticed their trench coats, “I hadn’t realized it had gotten so cold out.” Betty smiled at the blonde man with the crew cut. The man ignored her. Betty was used to the effect her appearance had on some people. But, she had to admit, it still stung. She shuffled to the back of the elevator in an effort to avoid calling further attention to herself.

Still, there was something familiar about the blonde man that she couldn’t quite place.

James’ voice yelled again, “Ah got to says something.” Betty felt as if her skull would explode.

The elevator stopped at the second floor. The men moved off the elevator. Betty could see Aggie sitting at the nurses’ station. The older nurse gave Betty a quick wave, which Betty returned, before the doors closed.

“Girlie!” James insisted.

“I am ignoring you.” Betty scolded. “So you might as well just shut up.”

“Listen Kid!” He continued.

Betty began to hum loudly along with the elevator musack. She thought it sounded like an Aerosmith song.

James finally fell silent and Betty enjoyed the remaining elevator ride in silence. Finally, the elevator doors slid open on Betty’s floor and she walked to her room.

James spoke again. He did not yell, but spoke slowly and quietly. He enunciated the words with the full force in his embodied voice, “Betty. If you don’t hear me out, somethin’ real bad is gonna happen to people you care about.”

This statement incensed her. Betty opened her door and rushed inside. She slammed the door and closed her eyes.

*****

When she opened them, she was again on James’ porch. As usual, her scars had faded at the dream farm. James stood in the doorway to the house with a concerned look. Before James could speak, Betty rushed at him, knocking him against the closed door, “You’re threatening me!”

“No! Betty, No!” James implored.

She mocked his accent, “You said, ‘somethin’ real bad is gonna happen to people you care about.’’”

James was taken aback, “What? No, Ah din’t mean ah was gonna do it. Those fellas on the ‘vator. They was O.W.L.s. I trained with ‘em. They must be here to cause some mischief. I was worried about our friends.”

Betty let James go and turned away from him, “¡Madre de Dios! No wonder I thought they looked familiar.” Betty had recognized them through James’ memory. “We have to stop them.” She turned to James, “Or rather, Psi-Kotic does.”

James smiled, “Truce?”

Betty returned the grin, “Truce. ¡Hora de sacar la basura!”

James made a fist, “Yeah yer right, it’s time to take out the trash!”

Betty concentrated and willed herself back to her room.

*****

She quickly donned her electric blue uniform and, a second later, Psi-Kotic rushed down the long hallway from Betty’s room to the emergency stairwell, which led to the second floor treatment rooms.

At the top of the stairs, Beatriz stopped and closed her eyes once more.

*****

When she opened them, she again stood on the steps of the porch of James’ childhood.

James sat on the steps. There was a look of worry on his face that troubled her. “What is it?” she asked in concern?

“It’s you!’ The southerner stood up. “What are ya waiting fer, Betty? We gotta git in there.”

“Listen, Jimbo. Before we rush in all la mitad montó, you know half cocked, I want to know what we are up against.” Betty got a glimpse of her reflection in the window of the house. She put her hand up to her unscarred face. She sometimes forgot how she looked before the accident caused by James. She crossed her arms and asked, “And what gives you the right to call me Betty?”

James looked hurt for a moment. Then, he mumbled, “Whatever, Ms. Ortiz. We gotz to go.”

“You are unbelievable!” Betty slowed exhaled and tried to center herself, arguing with James was not going to help. Finally she said, “Fine! Do you have any idea how many soldiers there are?”

James thought for a moment before speaking, “Well, I reckon if they follow standard protocols then there shouldn’t be more then a few of them. No more than four or five. We was taught to do that for plausible deniability.”

Betty gave him a curious look. “Plausible deniability?”

James smiled smugly, “Yeah, I know that’s a big word that means the O.W.L.s won’t get dinged if anyone gits nabbed. Better to think some whacko is working alone”

“I know what it is, idiota.” Betty said annoyed, “I just don’t see how effective it would be. I mean, these men trained with the O.W.L.s. A simple Google search would link them to the group.”

James smiled, “Well aren’t you little Miss Nancy Drew!”

Betty smiled and added, “I do agree with the ‘whacko” part.” Although she knew it was immature, Betty stuck her tongue out at James.

James blushed. “Verra funny! But, back to the point. I’ll bet the four in the elevator is all a them. They don’t call in reinforcements unless they know there’ll trouble. And they don’t even know we’re a coming!”

“Fair enough. Now, who is the guy with the crew cut?” Betty remembered James’ reaction in the elevator and frowned. “Is he the leader?”

James moved down the steps and approached Betty. “His name is Harrison Pierce, I met em at the O.W.L. Training camp before my, uh, assignment. Harry’s a good kid, I’ll bet he don’t even know what them O.W.L.s are really about.”

Betty remembered James’ shock at the discovery that Lee Sherman had planned to use an O.W.L. strike force to blow up the children’s ward in the hospital. It was then that James decided to switch sides and help Betty stop the O.W.L.s from finishing their missing and killing the children. “I don’t think your camp buddy is as altruistic as you say, el jefe. We have to take him down muy rapido, as quick as possible.”

“Promise me you’ll at least try and talk to him first.” It was a strange request and Betty nodded before she realized she was doing it. Satisfied, James continued, “If they follow them protocols that I learned, they should be lining up the workers on the opposite side of the exit, but away from the winders—in case they need hostages. You should probably give a quick look-see, all sneaky-like. Now git, girl and see what you can see.”

*****

Betty concentrated and she was in the stairwell again dressed in her electric blue spandex. Psi-Kotic pushed the door open and peered out into the emergency ward.

James was correct; the O.W.L. soldiers had corralled the hospital staff into the far corner of the ward. Betty saw that Harry was holding a handgun. The young mercenary aimed the weapon at Doctor Gier, who sat on the floor of a cubicle. The doctor looked up at the gunman with a mix of contempt and annoyance. On the far side of the counter, Dr. Katinsky kneeled next to Aggie. The older woman still held her knitting. Psi-Kotic also noticed a rather odd and anxious looking man in an expensive business suit.

“How are we going to get over there?” She whispered out loud to James.

In her head James mumbled, “Don’t look at me, can’t you just shimmy across the drainpipe or something. You touched all them Chinese folk.”

James referred to Betty’s unique ability to “learn” talents and information from anyone she touches. Months ago, the Chinese Opera School, where great martial artists like Jackie Chan and Sammo Hung trained, came to perform on a benefit at the hospital. Betty made sure to shake each and every one of the acrobat’s hands. She had spent the past two months on the roof, practicing the skills she had absorbed and training with practice dummies in an effort to master her new-found abilities.

Psi-Kotic nodded her costumed head from side to side, “No, I think they would see me before I got halfway across. Plus, they are way to heavily armed for that.”

Betty looked up at the pipes that ran across the ceiling and led to the large picture window over looking the parking lot. “I think I have a plan.” She whispered with a smile.

“I thought you might at that.” James responded in her head. Although Betty could not see the southerner, she was sure he was smirking.

TO BE CONTINUED