2 – Shane Smith

With two players, Mr. Pine knew they needed at least a third. With a third, two players could keep an eye on the other one. Ivanovitch was strong, and Johnny was well-rounded, but they needed someone who could bring something new to the table… and, as was evident from the very first meeting of Johnny and Ivanovitch, they would need someone with a mellow enough personality to keep those two from killing each other.

It was, of all people, Johnny himself who suggested the fellow.

"It was in the summer of '54 when I happened to meet Shane. He was a mechanic from Bee Cave, Texas. Not too far from the Alamo." He pounded his chest with his fist. "Remember the Alamo!" Then he glared at Ivanovitch.

"Vat?" Demanded the Russian, who hated interrupting his dotage on Sasha for any reason. "Vat you look at me for? Ve had nothing to do wit' de Alamo!"

"Aye, that's what you say…" After a while, Mr. Pine was able to get enough out of Johnny to find some very interesting details on Shane: that he had, for example, an entire garage full of machines he'd built himself, most of which had nothing to do with cars, but a lot to do with guns. That Johnny had snuck up on this garage, to see if it was a trap, and had barely got away with his life. That he'd gone back next week to make sure it still was a trap, to be rewarded by even more guns. Furthermore, from what Johnny'd seen as he'd been sent careening into the sky, there was an entire shelf of nothing but books – hardcover books – hidden in the back of the shed.

This all made Syndrome very interested in finding 'Ol' Shane.'

"I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils."

Daffodils. Six-petalled flowers with parallel veining in their leaves. Well, Wordsworth liked them. Now, if you was wandering lonely as a cloud, and happened to come across a crowd of what looked like daffodils but was actually small artillery weaponry, solar and wind-powered, that at a signal would unfurl and…

"A-hem."

Shane looked up from his notebook. A businessman with red hair going up in a column atop his head was standing there. He had a red Jaguar convertible parked in the driveway. The car didn't look like it was more than a few hours old.

"Mornin', pardner," Shane said slowly, standing up. "An' how can I be of service this fine day? Fix yer radio, perhaps? A bit of tinkering on the ol' gas tank?"

"I'm not looking for a repairman, sir. I'm looking for an engineer."

Shane's expression did not change. "An engineer for what?"

"A man who can build a lot of machines," the businessman explained from behind his shades, "very quickly; Machines that can kill a lot of people in a short amount of time. I'm wondering, are you at all opposed to violence?"

"Oh, I don't quite fancy violence as a… ah, an abstraction. You see, I'm a practical man. I solve practical problems. But in the abstract… I like to study violence. Yes, even in the abstract, I do find violence… fascinating. As all minds of a certain caliber must."

"I see. Mr. Shane, what if I suggested to you that you abandon this life that you've been leading and embrace a life that's… how to put it… a life where violence is always in the practical, never in the abstract?"

There was a pause. "Remember what you said about making machines that can kill people?"

"Yes?"

"I'm real good at that."

On that day, the two men shared something truly special: maniacal, villainous, delighted, depraved laughter.

"Ah, yes," Mr. Pine said as the helicopters carefully carted away the entirety of Shane's hand-made arsenal, "This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Hello again, and thank you all for the reviews!

To RedStormTrooper, actually a 'Johnny Jump-Up' is a name of a small type of flower, which I liked for the irony. I considered naming him Johnny Getyergun, but then decided against it. Thanks for the review and keep reading!