Yep, I'm makin' a story that Phoenix Firewing came up with, so I hope you enjoy and I hope you check them out. This is like ninety percent their idea and ten percent mine, so if Phoenix is reading this, don't be disappointed.

Here's a little recap of what the heck happened. Six Shooter got Bombshell pregnant somehow due to some magic mumbo jumbo and such… it's best not to question it. So anyway she had a kid that Six Shooter named Hank. He looked around the age of ten, blonde curly hair, big brown eyes, and the cutest little kid cowboy costume, but instead of Six Shooter's six hands, he had four.

"HANK!" Six Shooter yelled out in to the hotel hallway. "GET YOUR REAR END IN 'ERE!"

"What is it Pa?" Hank continuously rubbed his eyes as if he had just woken up from a nap.

"What'd I say 'bout callin' me Pa? It makes me feel old."

"Sorry Pa."

"Gosh Dangit boy…(SIGH!) C'mere I wanna show you somethin'."

"Ja, what is it?"

"You'll see if you'll wait a gosh dang minute." He opened the door to the attic and instructed Hank to walk in.

"What is this place?"

"Who is that kid?" Blade was sitting on top of the windowsill where he'd usually rest up in the afternoons.

"Hey Blade, this is Hank remember?"

"Hank…oh yeah, I remember him when he was a tiny little mutated four armed baby, so what brings him here?"

"Well I was plannin' on making him part of the team."

"Wait, Pa, what about Ma?" Hank tilted his head to the side.

"Suddup boy!" Six Shooter whispered. "So anyway, I was hoping you guys could show him around and make him feel comfortable."

Blade paused and looked around awkwardly. "Well…Six…I don't think we've got the ti-"

"THANKS BLADE! Well Hank, I hope you have a great time with Uncle Blade and the others."

"Where ya goin Pa?"

"I'm goin' out for a drink with your Godfather Torch." He patted Hank with one of his six hands. "Be good while I'm gone…And Blade." Looking up from his son. "If anythin' happens to him while I'm gone, It's gonna be your head."

"Sure…whatever Six."

"Good." He glared at the leader and then kissed his son goodbye on the forehead before leaving the attic.

"Güten Tag, Uncle."

Blade stared down at the ten year old and gave out a heavy sigh. "(Sigh…) C'mon you little bowl of sour kraut, I might as well show you to the others, what has it been? Two years?"

"Yeah."

"And what the heck are you? German or American?"

"German."

"Well Alrighty then-"

"American."

"…Ok…Well I guess I'll show you around and introduce you to your other…Uncles?" After a few awkward minutes they were on their way.