I woke up about twelve hours later, and felt immensely better. There was a care package on the stand next to the bed. It had a note from Ichor on it.

'A little something to help you out. Even if you don't join us, keep it. I feel I owe you for not being able to help you more. - Captain Ichor.'

The note smelled like saffron, probably some of his famous ichor. I smiled, then opened the package. Inside was some clothing, shorts, a blouse, shoes, some underthings, and a watch. It also had walking around money, a driver's licence, passport, and even a birth certificate.

They put my name as Amelia Indigo. That was odd, how did they know my name in the first place? Did I tell them when I was all woozy?

Putting those questions aside for now I put on my new clothes, and was surprised to find they fit perfectly. The bra was a sports number, and was easily figured out. I strapped the watch on, and walked out of the room.

The Institute was huge. High ceilings, glass walls, polished metal, people milling about. There was a large man carrying a giant block of marble. He spotted me and waved, he dropped the block on a man who was leading him through the room.

I gasped as the man was brutally crushed by the block, blood very quickly pooled from underneath it. The big man cringed. “Darn, third time this month!” He picked the block up, and placed it sideways.

The crushed man started pulsing, and each pulse drew his blood back to his body. Once that was done, his body started rebuilding itself with horrible cracking and gurgling sounds. He was back into working shape in less than a minute. “Crash! You need to focus, what if you cracked the block!?”

Crash grimaced. “Sorry Steve, I was just excited to see the new girl.” Steve frowned. “Call me Morph when I'm in uniform!” I walked up to them. “Sorry about that.” Crash smiled, and shook my hand. “No problem little lady, it was my fault entirely.”

Morph was cordial, but I could tell he was in a hurry to get back to work. I waved goodbye, and went on my way. I left the Institute and hailed a taxi, I told the driver to take me to the OCH building.

I arrived at Ericson Square, which was a block or so from where I was going. I paid the driver, and walked the rest of the way. This place was a lot more sedate and formal. I grabbed a 'New Hero Application,' and filled it out. I used my new information. I listed my 'Powers and Abilities' as elasticity and resistance to super-science.

I couldn't think of a good codename, so I just jotted down Minion Eighteen. Hey, it's what I'm used to. I turned my paper in to the rather extreme looking woman at the reception desk. She tutted, to which I rolled my eyes, and sent me to the waiting room.

They called for me, as Miss Indigo, and I walked to the back rooms. An older guy wearing a trench coat met me, and ushered me to a room.

His office was amazing, leather chairs, real books, plasma television, lava lamp, a chess table, and a grandfather clock.

He pulled some cigars from his coat. “Do you mind?” I shook my head. He lit one with a small burst of fire from his finger. “Want one? They're Cuban.” I declined.

He took a draw from his cigar. “My name is Harry, they call me Jester.” I hadn't heard of him, which meant he wasn't one of my father's old enemies. “You Infenso's kid?” I nodded.

He scratched at his chin. “I used to run with your father. Of course, I was known as the Knave of Swords back then.” My jaw dropped. This man was the Knave, my father's Dragon. The only person he feared.

Harry sighed. “Kid, that was almost forty years ago. I'm not that woman any more. I can't undo the past, but the future is our own to forge. You should know that more than most” I nodded hesitantly.

“Why are you a man now, did you have an accident like me?” Harry shook his head then laughed. “No kid, I just decided to let the real me out.” We talked for a while about how he became the man he was today, which made me feel a lot better. He understood how I felt more than anyone.

He smiled warmly. “How about a game, and we can talk about you for a bit, sound good?” He motioned to the chess set. I smiled and moved my chair over. We played for a while, and he asked me a lot of questions.

About my father, my childhood, my schooling, my life as a henchman, Ferro's plans and anything I knew that could be of use, the last few days, and how I'm doing right now.

He won the match, but I put up a good fight. Harry nodded and clapped his hands. “Well, everything seems to check out. You have my vote.” He stamped my file, leaving a big red 'APPROVED' mark on it. “Now you just need to get an ID, stop by the Institute for power testing, and sign up for active duty.”

I frowned. “What about my uniform, do I have to make my own?” He chuckled. “Nah, just use the gauntlet.” He pointed to my watch. He saw my confusion and showed me his, he held a couple of the buttons. “Patrol mode.”

His clothes shifted around. He still had the trench coat, but it became black, his pants became leather and heavier. Belts and straps appeared haphazardly, his shirt became a red and black affair. Knives, darts, and other small weapons started appearing.

A long and wicked looking sceptre was on his back, a domino mask was on his face and on his head was a three pointed hat. He activated the watch.”Stealth mode.” His civvies shifted back into existence. “The watches are nanite factories, they infuse our clothes and can manufacture weapons and armour and such at a moment's notice.” He handed me a pamphlet from his desk. “Destroy this after you memorize it.”

I put it in my pocket and activated my watch. “Patrol mode.” My clothes morphed into a jumpsuit. It was grey and red, I had heavy boots and gloves. I also had goggles, and my hair became feathery and a light brown. My chest was emblazoned with the number eighteen, and I got a utility belt! A quick check in the mirror showed my lips were the same red as my outfit, but they didn't feel any different.

Harry nodded. “You look good kid, now get. But, remember that you can talk to me whenever you want. Just ask for Jester.”

Getting the ID was pretty straightforward, I turned in my file and they took pictures of me both in and out of uniform. The card I was given reflected my information based on what guise I was in. I put it in my utility belt, the pouch closest to where my right pocket would be seemed appropriate.

I made a mental note to check what's in the pockets, and to pick up some stuff to put in it. I signed up for active duty at the front desk, and they said I'd be sorted into an existing squad based on my power testing.

I walked out to the street to find a hover transport waiting for me. The grizzled looking pilot waved me in. “Courtesy of the Good Captain.” Ichor again, he must feel pretty bad about not being able to 'rescue' me.

The pilot had Loverboy on the radio. “Nice uniform, my first one was crap.” I smiled. “Oh?” He nodded and laughed. “Yeah, short shorts and a cape.” I laughed as well. “So, you were a sidekick.” He shook his head. “Kid, I was the sidekick.” Ah, I wondered what happened to him. “So you were Calibre?” He nodded, and sighed. Gunslinging heroes were 'phased out' in the seventies, too many accidents.

He winked at me as I left, and I had the distinct impression he was watching me as I walked into the building. I flashed my ID to the guy at the front desk, and he said to head to the back. Once I arrived at the testing lab, a man wearing a labcoat led me to a exam table.

He had grey hair and was unshaven. “Wait right here.” He had a slight Irish accent and was chewing gum. He walked over to some cabinets and took out some boxes.

He rummaged around in it, and pulled out what looked like a tuning fork. He pressed a button on his gauntlet and my clothes went back to civilian mode. He poked me with the fork, and pressed a button. Sparks flew out from it, and it made a horrible cracking noise, but I felt nothing. “Hmm...”

He went back to the box and pulled out a blowtorch, he turned the knob and a small flame shot out. “Take off your shirt.” I was a bit nervous, but did as he asked. He moved the torch around on my back for just a second then pulled it away. He poked my back with his finger, and moved it around. He did the same on a spot that wasn't torched.

“No thermal degradation at one thirty, let's try one seventy.” That continued for about an hour, he got up to three thousand degrees before stopping. “Dang kid, you have a TPP rating at least as good as firefighting gear.”

Three hours, and countless tests, later he just finished testing my resistance to radiation. “Well, you seem to handle everything like a champ. It's a shame you still need to breathe, eat, and sleep though. Time for the last test!” He led me to the shooting range.

I stood at the far end of the range, and he took aim with a pistol. He shot me in the gut, and the bullet sank into me. I felt a pulling sensation for a second, before the bullet shot back out and hit the scientist right in the forehead.

There was a bit of blood dripping down his face, but he seemed fine. He grabbed a phone from the wall and spoke into it. His voice came to me form some speakers in the ceiling. “Alright, now come closer. I need to try the shotgun, and it's always more fun from point-blank range.”

To Be Continued...

AN: A boon to the first person ot figure out why Steve's codename is Morph, before I bring it up in the story anyway.