The final contestant walked into the room with a distinctive lack of enthusiasm.

The judges weren’t sure if he had been made to wait too long or if his heart wasn’t in it from the beginning.

Regardless, Tracy McCoy, aka “Super-Shot,” seemed less than super-pumped to be auditioning for the world’s only true for reals super duper metaphysical crime fighting team.

McCoy stood before the dais with a gun in his left hand held toward the deck, limply, as if he didn’t want it there.

The man known as “Dr. Atlantis,” Dr. Nixon Nemo, world-renown explorer and co-founder of THE SECRET SOCIETY, considered this man closely.

[Photo withheld by request].

Something morose in his aspect, thought Nemo, the Beretta firearm hanging there, the hair down in the man’s face almost obscuring eyes as if he were a grunge rock singer from the 1990s, no shave, no overachiever’s inspired “costume” or even clean clothes for that matter. Moreover, he could be mistaken for transient, vagrant, if not for having just come from an interview with Agent Yuki Yoko Yoshimoto whom we hold in the highest regard.

“I,” said McCoy, “I um, I just …”

“What is it?” asked Devilgirl.

“I was on the force, Capital City Police Department, few years back, and …”

“Go ahead,” she said.

“Was this kid, seemed like a kid to me, but you know what the law says.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“You’re an adult when you’re eighteen.”


“And, and,” he said, “I shot him … with this.”

He didn’t raise the firearm, rather simply gesturing his eyes to the tool of the trade.

The skeleton man, they call him Eddie Crossbones, he asked: “What’s the tumble, fella, wrong call or just too much to handle? Either way, we have to ask, why are you here?”

The grungy man didn’t flinch at being cross-examined by the living boneman.

“Wanna hear a cliché?” he asked. “I live by them.”

No one answered.

“Dark and stormy shit of a night. So bad the regular rats and roaches go underground but you never know. Sometimes there’s a monster out there. Sometimes, despite the fucked up weather, something just has to make it worse.

The girl had gotten dumped by her friends, forced to walk home in the downpour. Maybe she didn’t want the rock stupid peer pressure of dope and forced sex in the back of a car anymore than she wanted what the eighteen-year-old had to offer when he jumped out of the alley at her. She was at least four years younger and already scared out of her head and crying without a cell-phone.

He pulled her alley-inward but not before she let go with the scream of crazy brilliance any smart girl would let loose with.

Wasn’t good police work that saved her, but the luck of having cops trolling around the dark streets despite the weather. Fuck the post office. They eat while they drive and almost never have to shoot anybody.

I was off the doughnuts, even though you can get them free when you wear your uniform, but my coffee hit the dash as my partner hit the brakes.

I don’t care what kind of gung-ho or super cop crap you think might be out there – nobody wants to get out of the prowl car in the rain and face the open mouth of a dark alley after hearing a scream like that.

Officer Tate took the left side of the alley as you look into the thing, I on the right.

The moon did us a favor and pumped up its spotlight on the far back alley wall, twelve, maybe fifteen yards back. He stood there with a handgun aimed at the young woman’s head while his trousers were down around the back of his ass like one of those wannabe teenage rappers.

We yelled all the typical police shit that you yell: stand down, drop your weapon (whether we know you have one or not), get on your fucking knees, hands on head, and don’t you fucking move.

A bullet replied as it zigzagged off the alley wall before it broke Tate’s front teeth out.

Not a bad shot, but he was simply shooting wild in the dark. With those furious clouds running across the sky I had to wait. The seconds ticking by like someone yanking my guts out of my throat and there he was lit up by a momentary glimpse and I fired into the alley and into the rain and the wind and into his head and killed him dead.

They called it a super shot.

And afterwards everyone looked at me differently because I had done a good thing and blown a teenager’s head clean off instead of talking him down or simply walking down that long alley and kicking his ass. They called me a hero and I couldn’t work with them anymore.

I dropped my badge, letting the tears roll like a dumb baby, and told them I couldn’t use it anymore, you know, like that Bob Dylan song.

I hear you have a different perspective on handling the law, so … there it is. I’m applying for work in these economically challenged times. That is, if you need somebody who’s a pretty good shot on a dark night.

The judges let Tracy McCoy's story and request sink in and offered their final votes without further fanfare.




Well, that’s all folks! The prospective Agents of Karma have been wildly different and hopefully interesting – from a guy who dresses like a Green Grasshopper and leaps – to an ex-cop with a handgun and a dream of still being able to make a difference in the world.

The future is all up to YOU now. The judges: Devilgirl, Dr. Atlantis, and Eddie Crossbones have waged their opinions and personal votes, and thank you for your time, but now the final fate and fortune of the next AGENT OF KARMA is the hands of all of you heroes out there on the world wide web. We’re connected inside this adventure of life together – so choose wisely as – destiny is created by desire.




Created/written by Bradley Mason Hamlin.

Agents of Karma judges by MORT TODD.

Secret Society: Agents of Karma Episode 014: Super-Shot. Published October 9, 2010 by Mystery Island.
Copyright © 2010 by Mystery Island Publications. All rights reserved.