Sicarius Sagittare was sitting at his desk staring intently at the monitor in front of him. He was rapidly paging through screen after screen, studying the people he saw. His trained eyes scanned quickly but carefully for any new developments, but things were slow and nothing noteworthy presented itself. He was in this state of fixed concentration when his partner Belua Speculor entered the room.

      “Sicarius, there is a situation developing. It looks favorable.”

      “What are you talking about? I haven't seen anything. Everything's cold.”

      “This situation has only come about in the last forty-five minutes or so. Case number 29445.”

      Sicarius went to that page and studied that scene. Belua continued. “Our agents saw an opportunity and moved in quickly to foment it. They're working it now.”

      Sicarius sat back from the monitor and sighed. “There's just too much to keep up with. I can't see this stuff coming anymore.”

      “That's okay,” said Belua. “That's why you have me to help.” He walked up behind Sicarius and looked at the monitor. “We don't have much time, but if we can make good on this opportunity, it can affect things for years to come.”

      “I see there's a babbler involved.”

      “Yes. Classified: sporadic. We need to strike now.”

      “Yes.” Sicarius rose and stepped over to a large glass cabinet. He opened the door of the cabinet and took out an ornately decorated bow. Its recurved limbs were heavy and powerful. He also picked up a black quiver of arrows. He elbowed the cabinet door shut and turned to face Belua. “Let's go.” The two left the office.

      Although it was still rush hour and the traffic was heavy, the two made it to the other side of town in the space of a few minutes. They arrived at a grassy field that formed a power-line right of way. Along each side of the right of way was a row of nice houses. A low spot in the ground, opposite to where they were standing, had filled with rainwater and had attracted a number of dragonflies. Sicarius hooked the quiver so that it hung from his waist. Then he strung the bow as he and Belua surveyed the houses. With the bow made ready, Sicarius grabbed an arrow and fitted it to the string.

      At one of the houses near the pond a door opened and a young boy of about seven years old came out carrying a small sack. He went to one of the trashcans that stood next to the house and placed the sack inside. A dragonfly, blue with striped wings, was perched on the next can. The boy peered at it in wonder. He stepped closer and the dragonfly flew away. The boy laughed and ran after it. The dragonfly kept close to the ground and headed for the pond. Another dragonfly, green with clear wings, darted between the boy and the blue bug. It turned behind the boy and the boy turned with it. He giggled aloud as he chased the darting insect. He ran past the pond and several dragonflies scattered. The boy laughed and pursued them. Even the dragonflies seemed to enjoy the game and stayed always just out of reach of the boy's waving hands. At one point the boy was a dragonfly, buzzing and darting close to the ground, flying playfully with his insect friends. He flew over a frog that sat next to the…

      “Stephen!” boomed an angry voice from the door. “What the hell are you doing?”

      The boy stopped running and turned to face his father standing in the doorway. “Nothing.”

      “There it is,” said Sicarius flatly. He extended his bow arm and drew back the string with the arrow. He took a deep breath, let it out half way, and carefully sighted along the arrow to his target.

      “You're supposed to be cleaning your room,” growled the father. He stepped over to the boy.

      “I have been,” said the boy. His face grew pensive.

      By now the father stood directly in front of the boy. “Your mother said you have been fooling around all afternoon.” He spoke through clenched teeth and leaned over him. He brought his right hand up and slapped the boy hard on the side of his head.

      At the exact same moment, Sicarius released the arrow. The heavy bow propelled it like a laser beam straight into the boy's back. It plunged deep and held fast. The boy staggered inside, but took the hit. He looked up at his father.

      “Now get in there and finish that room!” shouted the father. “Don't make me tell you again!”

      Fear and shame welled up in the boy and spilled over as tears down his face. He ran past his father and into the house. As the father turned to go back into the house, Sicarius could see several arrows sticking out of his back.

      “Oh, now I remember him!” he said, pointing a crooked, clawed finger at the father. “I thought he looked familiar.”

      “You've dealt with these people before?” asked Belua.

      “Yeah, the father.” Sicarius thought for a moment. “You'd think I'd be able to remember every case, but there are just too many of them nowadays. We're going to need more people if this territory continues to expand like it's doing.”

      Belua snorted. “I agree, but you know that's not going to happen.” He watched as Sicarius unstrung the bow. “That sure is a nice bow. Where did you say you got it?”

      “The prince of Persia gave it to me when I was assigned to his area. I was the best shot he had.”

      “I'll bet. How did you get transferred here?”

      “There were some political changes over there and things got quiet. This area may become more of a hot spot.” Sicarius unclipped the quiver from his waist. “We'd better get back” he said and the two returned to the office. 

      Later that evening in another part of town an elderly woman was on her knees before the Lord. Her house was quiet and the room was dark except for a single lamp beside the bed. Her Bible was open on the blanket in front of her.

      “Oh, Heavenly Father. My heart is so heavy for Stevie this evening. I don't know why. He's such a sweet boy, Father. I don't know his particular needs today, Lord, but please go to him. Minister to my grandson with your perfect Love and Grace. Help him to discover your gift for him, and please prepare him for the path you have chosen for him.”

      The woman was silent for a few moments. In her mind's eye she saw Stephen and her heart was filled with longing for him. Her soul sighed deeply for the boy and she began to cry. “Oh, Lord, please nurture him. Please nurture that precious sweet child.”

      She remained kneeling by the bed until the flood of emotion had subsided. Then with deliberate effort, she arose from her calloused knees and climbed into bed.

      “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered. “I love you so much.” And with the fragrance of that thought lingering in her mind she soon drifted off to sleep. 

      With an invisible silence the two angels arrived in Stephen's bedroom. As they approached the boy in the darkness they saw that he was laying on his side wide awake. His eyes stared vacantly at some distant unseen point.

      “He's still awake, Raphael,” said one of the angels.

      “I know, Erelah,” said Raphael. “That will be all right.”

      The two angels stood before the boy. The angel called Raphael leaned over him and felt for the arrow. He grasped the shaft with one hand and placed his other hand on Stephen's shoulder. Erelah placed both hands on the boy's ribs and waist. Raphael carefully tried to pull the arrow out. Stephen's face began to contort into a grimace. With as much gentleness as he could bear for the task, Raphael increased the pulling pressure. The boy began to cry. He cried with the quiet weeping of profound loneliness and pain. Raphael eased the pressure and released the shaft.

      “Oh, for mercy's sake! He cries with such pain,” Erelah whispered. “No child should ever cry like that.”

      “The arrow has struck deep,” said Raphael. “It is an arrow of shame. He's not letting it go.”

      “What can we do?”

      “We must give him what we brought for him.” The two angels adjusted the placement of their hands and bowed their heads. They both spoke gently and rapidly over Stephen; kind words in their own tongue. The words and their effect soothed the boy. His crying subsided and in a few moments he had drifted off to sleep.

      The angels gently lifted their hands off of the boy. Raphael bent down and kissed the boy on the temple. “I'm sorry, Stephen,” he said. Then the angels departed the room. 

      *    *    * 

      Sicarius entered the office and went to the glass cabinet. He opened it and placed the bow and quiver inside. He took a second look at the quiver.

      “I'm going to need more arrows,” he said aloud.

      “What's that?” asked Belua, seated at the monitor.

      “I said I'm going to need more arrows.” Sicarius shut the cabinet and walked over and stood behind Belua's chair.

      Belua glanced up at Sicarius. “How'd it go with that girl, uh, what was her name…Angela?”

      “Oh, yes. Angela. I think one more well placed shot and our “Angel” will be ready to start doing tricks on the street.”

      “Excellent.” Belua's thin lips stretched into a grin that showed his crooked, yellow teeth.

      “I've got to give her a little time to get used to this latest arrow. If I give them time to accommodate the new discomfort, then each hit has an accumulating effect.”

      “What if you plant another one too soon?”

      “Well, it either pushes them over the edge, or makes them totally numb.”

      “Pushing them over the edge isn't bad, is it?”

      “It's not bad, but it's not very efficient. I've done a few of them myself. It's not hard, especially if they're isolated. But the destruction is limited. One life destroyed, several others shattered. And sometimes that's called for. But as the population grows, there aren't as many of my type to go around. We found that if we destroy them slowly, piece by piece, then they in turn go around destroying others piece by piece.”

      “Like a chain-reaction.”

      “Exactly. Then all we need to do is to go around making adjustments and corrections, keeping it moving in the right direction. Then this job can get very easy. That's what I've been working so hard to accomplish these past few years.”