A body suddenly crashed through a plate glass window at the Brigadier’s house. The ensuing chaos of screams, sprawling people, and shattered glass caused no end of confusion. The butler was the first to respond as his wits came back to him and he rushed to where the body lay.
There on the floor, sprawled in an awkward pose not seeming right for a human to be in, lay a man wearing a dark blue jumpsuit, his head covered by a white helmet with a big blue star on the side. The visor was down, and for all intents, he looked to be a motorcycle daredevil rider.
“Sir. Sir. Are you alright.” The butler’s formal British accent was almost as stiff as his body language as he knelt before the man, not wanting to move him fear of causing further injury. The man rolled over onto his back, groggily coming to his wits.
He flipped up his visor and the butler sat back in shock as he stared at the Brigadier’s face. “Sir?”
The Brigadier sat up, dusting off glass from his jumpsuit. “It does seem the catapult needs a bit of adjustment, my good man.”