The wind blew gently across the residential shutters of Pleasantview. Spring had seemingly come early despite the solstice being weeks away. However, the chill in the air was a reminder to everyone that they should still bundle up while outdoors on this mid-February weekend afternoon.

Inside the East Side Community Center, business carried on as usual. When Choral Blush walked into the great hall from the kitchen, she spotted an elderly gentleman she had never seen before staring at the Joshua tree.

“Hello, sir,” she greeted him. “My name is Choral Blush. Is there something I can help you with today?”

“Greetings to you, Miss Blush,” said the man in a robust tone. “So young and so polite; you must have good parents.” He paused as Choral giggled slightly to herself. “My name is Philip Tartan. I was wondering if your leader—a Miss Ebon Huntress, I believe—was available for a meeting?”

“Please, Mr. Tartan, have a seat,” said Ebon as Choral exited the conference room.

“Thank you, Ebon Huntress,” said Tartan as he sat down. “Feel free to call me Philip.”

“Very well, Philip. How can I help you?”

“I have reason to believe one of my old enemies is after me. Possibly the Silver Psycho, but I could be wrong.” Ebon paused for a minute, not quite sure how to respond.

“I’m sorry. Who is after you?”

“The Silver Psycho. He was, and possibly still is, one of the most dangerous super-villains of all time. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Ebon replied cautiously. “But I would like to hear more.”

“I can’t explain it, really. It’s just a feeling. or perhaps more than that.  I hear sounds or notice odd things out of the corner of my eye, but when I look closer, nothing’s there.  Sometimes I’ve found my things have even been moved around.”

Ebon was wondering if the man was just paranoid or had begun to lose his memory. She felt there was probably a very simple explanation to his troubles, but something about the way he spoke and carried himself told her otherwise.

“I see. What makes you think this…Silver Psycho individual is responsible?”

“As I said, just a feeling. But if anyone would have a grudge against me, he’s the most likely candidate. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to kill me. Took my whole team to defeat him last time…”

The man’s attention seemed to drift as he told Ebon his story. She could detect almost a hint of sadness in his voice, as if the victory he spoke of had been a bittersweet one. “Your team?”

“Yes, the Color Guard. We were the first superhero team on this world. I would expect you of all people to be familiar with our accomplishments.”

“Decades ago, long before you and the rest of the extraterrestrials landed on our world, I was known as Agent Orange,” said Tartan. “Back in those days, a group of us—the term superheroes hadn’t been coined yet—decided to form a team, and I was its first chairman.”

“This is all news to me,” said Ebon. “I will need to verify your story, but let’s presume for the moment that what you are saying is true. Why do you think your old enemy is after you?”

“Of course, Philip,” Ebon said, deeply moved by his words, “that’s why we’re here. I can have two of my team members assist you as soon as they return from patrol duty. They should be back within thirty minutes. But in the meantime, I would be glad to discuss this matter with you further.”

“Thank you, Ebon Huntress, but I must get back to my room. I’m a little tired, and I have a cat that needs feeding. They can get pretty finicky, you know. Would it trouble you to send your associates over to my place when they arrive?”

“Most certainly. May I ask where you are staying?”

“The Wilkenburo Assisted Living Center.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait here—where it’s safe—until my teammates show up? I could have Choral escort you back…”

Ebon watched Philip Tartan hobble down the street and fade into the distance before she returned to the conference room. Sitting down at the table, she quickly contacted Chromed Avenger on the viewscreen. After exchanging pleasantries, Ebon quickly filled him in regarding the strange visitor she had just received.

“Did you say Agent Orange?” asked Chromed, nearly sounding startled.

“Yes, that is how he identified himself,” replied Ebon. “Do you know him?”

“There have been several individuals to go by that persona. Philip Tartan was the original. I only knew…of him.”

“And the Silver Psycho?”

“We’re back,” interrupted Tawny, as she and Tangerine entered the conference room.

“Rajilot and Janyx, good to see you back so soon,” said Ebon. “I have an assignment for the both of you.” Ebon soon brought Tawny and Tangerine up to speed.

“So, basically you are sending us on a babysitting mission,” said Tangerine.

“Specifically, I need to you to find out if he is in any real danger. And I hope you will use a little more tact in your investigation.”

“When do you want us to go?” asked Tawny.

“Right away, please. He should be home by now, so the sooner you get there, the sooner we can find out what’s really going on.”

“Then it’s best we be on our way,” said Tangerine.

“Darna, wait,” Chromed interjected. “I would like to accompany them.”

Ebon stared curiously at Chromed on the screen.

“John, that is a highly unusual request coming from you,” said Ebon. “You’ve never asked to go on a mission before.”

“I feel I could assist in gathering information,” replied Chromed, “particularly in this case."

“You probably could, but I need you to search the archives and get me all the information you have on Agent Orange and the Color Guard. Plus it’ll take some time for you to get over to the facility, whereas Janyx and Rajilot can be over there in a matter of minutes. I don’t want to keep Philip waiting and unprotected for very long if what he says is true.”

“Understood. I shall begin gathering the information immediately.”

On the way to the retirement home, Tawny couldn’t help but notice that something was bothering her teammate and spouse Tangerine Mistress, even without using her powers.

“Jan, what’s wrong?” asked Tawny.

“It’s this mission,” replied Tangerine. “Couldn’t Darna have found something better for us to do than to look after some crazy old-timer?”

“Jan, I don’t understand. We should be happy there is someone that needs our assistance. Especially if he is who he says he is. He’s practically family if he was a superhero at one point.”

“Then why is he acting like an invalid? I know I hardly ever talk about my home, but my people never become this way. Certainly we grow old, but never helpless.”

“It’s different in this dimension…on this world. We aren’t all like your people. And the humans don’t even have powers! Well, they’re not supposed to, anyway. But that’s why you came to this world to begin with, to protect them.”

“Mr. Tartan, you have visitors,” said the nurse from the door. Philip Tartan blankly looked over at his roommate.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” said Tartan.

“Maybe they’re hookers sent by that friend of yours,” snickered Tartan’s roommate.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Carmine may have been a joker, but he would never do that. Please, Nurse, send them in.”

“Whoa!” exclaimed Tartan’s roommate as Tangerine and Tawny entered the room. “This is much better than hookers.”

“Charles, behave yourself,” said Tartan to his roommate. “If I’m not mistaken, this is Tangerine Mistress and Tawny Bimbo, of Primary Force.”

“Bimbo?” laughed Charles.

“That is correct. Mr. Tartan, we presume?” replied Tangerine while giving Charles a nasty stare.

“I am,” said Tartan. “And please, call me Philip. Pay no attention to my roommate. I have a feeling he hasn’t had his medication today. This is an unexpected surprise. I have been following your team’s exploits for a while now, and I have been most impressed. Is there something I can do for you young ladies”

Tawny and Tangerine stared blankly at each other for a few seconds.

“Great,” muttered Tangerine under her breath.

“Philip, we were sent here by our team leader at your request,” informed Tawny.

“My request?” asked Tartan. “I don’t recall making any request of you or your team?”

“I think we know who really forgot to take his medication,” laughed Charles.

“Mr. Fagor! Perhaps it would be best if you excused yourself from the room for a while. It sounds like these two have serious business to discuss.”

“Very well. Hey, can I interest either of you pretty ladies in giving me a sponge bath in the hot tub?” Tawny blushed with embarrassment as Tangerine gave Charles a look that could turn him to stone. “I’ll take that as a no. Never hurts to ask.”

“Please forgive him,” said Tartan as Charles Fagor left the room. “He’s mostly harmless, but does get a bit unruly when young attractive females are present. Now, you mentioned I made a request for a visit?”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” replied Tawny. “You showed up at the East Side Community Center about an hour ago,identified yourself as Agent Orange, and said that an old enemy was after you.”

“You don’t say…” pondered Tartan. “Are you certain it was me?”

“Well, we didn’t actually see you ourselves,” replied Tawny. “We would have to confirm that with our team leader. All we were given was your name and instructions to come investigate your claims.”

“And that you were once a superhero?” questioned Tangerine.

“Yes,” said Tartan. “Although we didn’t actually call ourselves superheroes back then. Here, let me show you.” Tartan went to his chest of drawers and began to pull out scrapbooks of various sizes. “These contain newspaper clippings and magazine articles about me and my team, The Color Guard. Feel free to look through them. Back in those days we were more concerned about our privacy, and I would never have admitted to being Agent Orange. But I’m long since retired now. Haven’t seriously worn the costume since I was a young man. Most everyone here at the retirement center already knows about me.”

“This is very interesting. I wonder why we’ve never heard anything about this before.”

“Tangerine Mistress, all this stuff is from over 65 years ago. And we weren’t the only ones. The Color Guard has had many changes over the years. I doubt that any but a few of the original members are even still alive. In fact, the only one I know of for certain is Carmine McGuffin.”

“Who?” asked Tawny and Tangerine simultaneously.

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t know him if you don’t even know who I was,” laughed Tartan. “He was also known as The Red Herring. Here, let me show you a picture.” Tartan opened the closet to his room. As he dug through boxes, Tawny and Tangerine peeked inside and saw an old but bright orange trench coat proudly hanging in the back. Above the trench coat was displayed an orange mask and a black hat with orange trim. Within a minute, Tartan turned around and handed them a weathered photograph. “I suppose I should have taken better care of this over the years. I look at it every now and then. This is the first picture ever taken of The Color Guard. That’s me in the center, of course, in between Doc Spectra and Carmine there.”

“Who’s the girl down in front?” asked Tawny. “She’s cute.”

“Ah, yes, that’s Shocking Pink. We let her in the picture, even though she wasn’t really part of the team yet.”

 “I don’t understand.”

“She barged in on our first meeting and wanted to join the team. Unfortunately, the only really useful ability she had at the time was fetching coffee, so we made her our secretary. And to be honest, we really didn’t want a girl in our little club. But she was a good kid and eventually proved herself, so we kept her around.”

“This is all fascinating,” said Tangerine. “But it doesn’t explain why we’re here. Philip, are you certain you didn’t come to the East Side Community Center and request assistance?”

“I would remember if I had. My body may be old, but my memory is as sharp as ever.”

“And have you felt your life was in any kind of danger?”

“Only from Mr. Fagor’s terrible snoring.”

“Then I think we have an even bigger mystery on our hands than we were led to believe.”

“Philip, would you mind if we took some of your memorabilia back with us?” asked Tawny. “I am certain our team leader would love to look through all of this.”

Back at the East Side Community Center, Tawny and Tangerine informed Ebon Huntress and Chromed Avenger of everything they had learned in their investigation.

“This is quite curious,” said Ebon. “John, do you think Philip Tartan is suffering from any kind of degenerative disease?”

“Highly unlikely,” informed Chromed. “I have access to all of his current medical records on file at the retirement home. Despite his age, his mind and body are in excellent condition.”

“Could this be a new development?” asked Tangerine. “When was his last medical checkup?”

“Only three days ago. I doubt this type of forgetfulness has just suddenly crept up on him.”

“If we have an imposter,” asked Tawny, “who would it be?”

“The larger question is why someone would draw attention to themselves by having us help Philip Tartan,” said Ebon. “Even though he was the leader of The Color Guard at one time, I fail to see why anyone would want to hurt him now. Still, I would like the two of you to keep an eye on him. If there really is something going on then I would like to know about it.”

“Very well,” sighed Tangerine. “Tawny and I will keep an eye on the place.”

“In the meantime, I would like to review everything we now have on The Color Guard. I am very curious to see who, if anyone, would be after Philip, and why.”

Two days passed without incident as Ebon continued to review historical documents regarding The Color Guard. The routine reports she got from Tawny and Tangerine seemed to indicate nothing was out of the ordinary. She considered calling off the watch when Philip Tartan unexpectedly walked into her office.

“Good day to you, Ebon Huntress,” said Tartan. “Have you been able to discover anything yet?” Ebon stared blankly in confusion for a moment before composing herself.

“Philip,” greeted Ebon. “I wasn’t aware you were coming to visit. I would have had some refreshments prepared, as you are an honored guest.”

“Thank you, Ebon, but there’s no need to trouble yourself on my account. I am mainly curious if you have found anything regarding who might be after me.”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve had Tawny Bimbo and Tangerine Mistress keeping the retirement center under constant surveillance.”

“Two very lovely and astute ladies,” replied Tartan. “Yes, they came to visit me a couple of days ago. Thank you for sending them, Ebon.”

“You’re quite welcome,” replied Ebon. “I only wish we had to more to tell you.”

“It’s a shame I still don’t have my Torch. I could deal with this myself if I had it.”

“Your what?”

“My Torch…like a flashlight. Well, that’s what I called it. It wasn’t really a flashlight, but it looked close enough to one to most people. In any case, it was the source of my abilities. An impressive device, to say the least.”

“And if you had this Torch, you could take care of this matter yourself?”

“Who might that be?” asked Ebon.

“Someone who was in the Color Guard, naturally,” said Tartan. “The younger members who joined after us…the Golden Harvester—the second one, mind you, not the original—for starters. Then there’s Lavender Bender, Chartreuse Chanteuse, Mahogany Marauder…not to mention the last guy to be Agent Orange, whoever he was. One of them would have to know what happened to my Torch.”

 “I see. And just how would I go about finding one of these individuals? As you know, people in our line of work tend to keep their identities secret.”

Chromed Avenger sat patiently in the conference room as Ebon relayed the most recent encounter with Philip Tartan.

“This is very strange, John,” said Ebon. “Philip still thinks someone is after him. And he knows Rajilot and Janyx came to visit him a couple of days ago. Yet the Philip Tartan they talked to didn’t seem to feel his life was in danger at all. What do you make of all this?”

“I would surmise that he is not all that he appears to be,” replied Chromed. “What I find the most curious is his desire to locate his so-called Torch.”

“What in particular do find curious about that? Philip is rather advanced in age, and the Torch is the only part of his former identity that he’s missing. He could simply be suffering from sentimentality. It may be hard for you and I to understand, but that’s how humans are.”
 
“I am well aware of humanity’s fragility when it comes to their emotional state. But I am not convinced that is the motivation here. My research shows that Philip Tartan willingly gave up that power years ago and has lived a full life since then. Why would he suddenly want it back now?”

“Maybe he just wants to feel comfortable. John, I know you are old; very old. And I know you barely know anything about your origin. But wouldn’t you feel better if you did, to have even a part of your past restored to you?”

“I suppose I would,” replied Chromed. “If I had the ability to feel.”

“In any case, I think we should try to find his Torch,” said Ebon, suppressing the urge to laugh. “It may help us to unravel the mystery surrounding his erratic behavior. You wouldn’t happen to have any information on the whereabouts of these heroes Philip mentioned, would you?”

“Actually, I know exactly where one of them is: The Mahogany Marauder.”

“Then let’s go talk to him. Where is he?”

“Right here in this room.” Ebon didn’t even bother to hide the surprised look at Chromed Avenger's statement.

“Are you telling me that you’re The Mahogany Marauder?”

“At one time, I was known by that name. And for many years, under that alias, I was part of The Color Guard. Towards the end, I helped lead the team.”

“John, I’m stunned. You were once the leader of The Color Guard? You’ve never shown any interest in being anything but an advisor. When I first approached you with the idea of forming this team, you were reluctant to even be a part of it. You insisted that you only wanted to advise and provide logistical support.”

“And while I was in The Color Guard, that was primarily all I ever did. Circumstances forced me into the leadership role. It was not something I wanted, Darna, but it was necessary. Events have transpired which I am not yet ready to discuss with anyone, and much of that involves The Color Guard.”

“I see,” Ebon relented with a heavy sigh. “I will need some time to take this in. In the meantime, we have Philip Tartan to worry about.”

“And to that end, I suggest we try to give Philip Tartan exactly what he wants.”

Philip Tartan sat staring at the old uniform hanging in the back of his closet when the nurse informed him he had another visitor. Philip turned to greet his most recent arrival and a smile formed upon his face.

“The Mahogany Marauder,” greeted Tartan. “This is a very unexpected honor. Carmine and I were just talking about you a couple of weeks ago.”

“You mean The Red Herring?” asked Mahogany. “I only met him once, back in ’55, but I did know his successor. And yours as well, Agent Orange.”

“Son, no one’s called me that in almost fifty years.”

“Of course. And my apologies for intruding, sir. I know we have never been properly introduced.”

“It’s alright. I’m well aware of your service in The Color Guard. And please, call me Philip. It’s funny, but I would’ve expected you to look…older. I guess Carmine wasn’t just making another one of his bad jokes.”

“About what?”

“Oh, it was nothing. He just thought that you resembled Chromed Avenger, one of the members of Primary Force. His eyesight’s not what it used to be…but I wonder if maybe he was onto something.”

“Or perhaps he has an overactive imagination,” Mahogany Marauder offered with a tight smile. “But even if there were some truth to that, you of all people understand the importance of a secret identity.”

“Yes, I guess you could be right,” Tartan replied with a knowing grin. “In any case, what can I do for you?”

“Actually, I heard you were looking for me.”

Philip stared at Mahogany in confusion.

“Now that’s the second time this week someone has said I sent for them when I don’t remember making such a request at all,” said Tartan.

“So you didn’t visit Primary Force at their East Side Community Center?” asked Mahogany.

“I have never been there. I would certainly remember if I had. Just like I told their two teammates the other day; Tangerine Mistress and Tawny Bimbo.”

“So you remember meeting them? But you don’t remember going to the East Side Community Center asking about the location of your Torch?”

“My Torch? Heavens no. Why would I want that back?”

“Why indeed?”

“Well, I suppose it would be nice to have in my collection. But I gave it up to another man, to carry on in my name. I am far too old to be dashing around in a costume, shooting force beams at bank robbers and alien robots and whatnot. Besides, wouldn’t the last person to wear the mantle of Agent Orange still have the Torch?”

“He would indeed,” smiled Mahogany. “Rest assured, it is still in good hands.”

Mahogany continued chatting with Tartan for a short time, catching up on old events as well as new. Satisfied after their conversation that the kindly and energetic man had indeed been the original head of the Color Guard, Mahogany returned to the East Side Community Center and his current identity of Chromed Avenger.  

“Seems you’ve become quite the celebrity again,” said Charles Fagor, stepping through the open doorway a brief moment later.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” replied Tartan. “Still, it has been nice to have the visitors. It makes me feel somewhat important again.”

“Yes, it’s a pity he didn’t let you know where your Torch is. Then you could show these youngsters what a real crime-fighter is like.”

“What are you talking about? I have no desire to get all dressed up and go out on the streets again. It’s hard enough just walking to the bathroom.”

“Yes, but just think about what it would be like if you could do it all again! Just the feeling you’d get from having the sheer power at your disposal…”

Philip merely shrugged. “Eh. A fantasy for the young, nothing more.”

“Heh, I guess so. Anyway, I’m going to run down to the cafeteria. You want anything?”

“Just the usual, thank you.” Tartan sat in silent contemplation as his roommate left to get their dinner.  The longer he thought, the more troubled the expression on his face became.

“Ebon Huntress, I presume,” greeted Tartan as he entered the briefing room. Ebon glanced up at him for a moment, quickly surmising from his greeting she had never met this particular Philip Tartan before.

“It is a pleasure and honor to meet you, Mr. Tartan,” said Ebon. “Please have a seat.”

“Thank you. You seem a little surprised to see me considering you had two of your teammates pay me a visit a couple of days ago. However I expect that surprise comes from them informing you I never asked for you to send them.”

“As you can guess this has left us with a bit of a mystery.”

“I feel that somehow I am the cause of it, albeit unwittingly. And I’m sure I am about to make matters worse. You see I have some concerns about my roommate.”

“Your roommate? From what I have heard you would only need to be concerned if you were a young attractive female.”

“Normally, I would agree with you,” laughed Tartan. “However, after I had a visit from the Mahogany Marauder of all people yesterday, Charles became unusually interested in learning everything I know about all the members of The Color Guard. I honestly didn’t have much to tell him. I only knew a couple of the teammates personally. He kept asking me specifically about more recent incarnations of Agent Orange.”

“Your successors?” asked Ebon.

“Yes. He seemed the most interested in trying to find out if I knew the current one, or how to find him. Honestly, I don’t, but for some reason he kept asking me as if I’d suddenly have another answer. If anyone did, it’d be Mahogany, and if not then, at least he could find out. Now why would he have a sudden interest in knowing that?”

“I don’t know, but I agree that it is highly unusual and suspicious.”

“I feel like he’s been…spying on me, eavesdropping on my conversations with old friends. Or maybe I am finally getting too old. Maybe with all the recent visitors I am starting to see things that aren’t there. If he hadn’t asked about my Torch a hundred times…”

“Your Torch? He asked about that?”

“Over and over again. I was barely able to go to sleep, he asked so much.”

“Philip, you may have real reason for concern. If you would, please stay here tonight as our guest. I have a feeling that your roommate may be the key to unraveling this mystery.”

That night, Charles Fagor frantically tore through several boxes located in the closet belonging to Philip Tartan, unceremoniously tossing photos, newspaper clippings, and other decades-old paraphernalia aside as he went.

“He has to have something in here that can lead me to it,” muttered Fagor. “That old coot keeps everything.”

“And just exactly what is it you expect to find?” Fagor rose and turned to face Ebon Huntress, along with several of her teammates standing in the doorway.

“I’m sure you have guessed by now what it is I am after, Ebon Huntress,” sneered Fagor.

“If it is Agent Orange’s Torch, you most certainly will not find it here,” said Chromed, stepping forward.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Fagor accused him.

“It’s over, Mr. Fagor,” said Ebon. “Come with us peacefully and I am sure we can come to some reasonable solution.”

“Give up? I don’t think so,” replied Fagor as he moved his hand behind his back.

“He’s reaching for a weapon!” shouted Crimson as he moved in to protect Ebon.

“Too late, young fool,” replied Fagor as he held up a bright red ball with a gold fish emblem on it. “No one is ever going to capture me again!” he proclaimed, throwing the ball on the floor. Instantly the room became filled with thick black smoke.

“Everyone spread out and cover the exits,” shouted Violet in the darkness. “Tangerine, can you do something about this fog?”

“I’m on it,” replied Tangerine. After she cast a quick spell, the room was once again empty with no trace of Charles Fagor.

“He couldn’t have gotten far,” said Ebon. “Tangerine, Tawny, can either of you pick up his location?”

“I don’t sense him anywhere,” replied Tawny. “He's already out of my range.”

“I can detect no trace elements of him either,” said Tangerine. “My tracking spell doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Nor would it, if I am right about what he used,” said Chromed.

“Very well,” said Ebon. “Let’s return to base. Chromed, once there, check the surveillance logs to determine which direction he might have gone. We should be able to track him from that. Everyone, let’s move out.”

“I’m sorry, Philip, but I do not think it would be safe for you to return to the home,” said Ebon. An hour had passed since the encounter in Tartan’s room, with no apparent luck in locating Charles Fagor. “I’m still not entirely certain how he gave us the slip.”

“What you described to me sounds like one of Red Herring’s custom smoke bombs,” said Tartan. “Never would tell me how the blasted things worked. Even the magicians on the team couldn’t trace him when he used those.”

“Do you think it was him? The Red Herring?”

“After everything that has happened, and he did come to visit me a few weeks ago...but I’ve had Mr. Fagor as a roommate for years. I’m not sure what to tell you.”

“Well, I think it is best that we find somewhere safer for you to stay. Somewhere we can keep a more watchful eye on you and your visitors so that if he decides to show up again, we’ll be ready to follow him and find out what he is up to.”

“I appreciate your kindness, Ebon Huntress. I just hope it will be enough…”

Meanwhile, having successfully escaped to an out-of-the-way hotel room, Charles Fagor stood before a mirror, a thin smile starting to form upon his face.

“You think you are safe and protected with your new friends,” smirked Fagor. “Their bungling of the situation is only a minor setback. I merely have to wait for them to lead me to what I seek.” As he broke into a maniacal laugh, his appearance began to change, first into that of Philip Tartan, and finally a more terrifying form—a creature of sheer darkness that faded away into the shadows.

“And when the time comes, not even Primary Force will be able to protect you!”

So concludes the twentieth chapter of Primary Force. Stay tuned for Chapter 21: The Madness Of Men