The man sitting beside him laughed gently. "Don't worry, kid. You'll do fine. And you're here because you're the kind of person we need."

"But why?" Jonathan pressed. "I still don't really see why."

The man laughed again, running his fingers through his dark hair. "You changed the whole world, Jonathan."

"Yeah, but that was just a spell. It wasn't really me."

"You're wrong," the man disagreed. "We don't do much with magic here. That's one of the reasons we want you, actually. You've got experience with it. But one thing we do know is that a spell that powerful takes more than just getting the words right. You've got something inside you that let you pull it off, and something else that made you end it when you realized how wrong it was."

He turned to face Jonathan, and his black eyes bored into the younger man's. "The first bit, magical aptitude, we can find lots of places. It's the second part, the morals and conscience, that we need even more. Not enough people have those."

"But I don't!" Jonathan protested. "I mean, if I was so moral and good, I wouldn't have done the spell in the first place, right?"

His companion waved his hand in the air, dismissing Jonathan's point. "So you messed things up royally. So what? Big deal. You'd be amazed at some of the mistakes we make here. Why, I remember one time, back in eighty-eight, I think it was, when we almost set off a chemical reaction that would've destroyed all life on Earth."

"How?" Jonathan asked, wide-eyed.

"Poker game gone wrong. Long story. Anyway, we fixed it and things are as good as new. No harm, no foul." He paused, then went on, more seriously. "We do good work here, Jonathan. We help people. But we need help doing it, and we think you're the guy for the job."

Jonathan blushed. "I don't know what to say."

The man shrugged. "Then don't say anything. Just listen to the man when you get in there."

Before Jonathan could reply, the door to the office opened. A tall, handsome man with short blonde hair walked out.

"He's ready for you," the newcomer announced. Seeing Jonathan's face, he smiled wryly. "Don't be nervous, kid. He doesn't bite."

Jonathan didn't reply. Gathering his courage, he stood up and walked through the door. The blonde man closed it behind him, then turned to the dark-haired man and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"He'll be fine," was the answer.

Jonathan didn't notice any details of the office as he entered. All of his attention was reserved for the man who stood behind the desk to greet him.

"Hello," the man said, a broad smile on his face. He walked over to shake Jonathan's hand with a firm grip. "Welcome to what my associates laughingly call the Inner Sanctum," he went on. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," Jonathan managed, sitting in a comfortable chair in front of the desk. His host leaned against the desk and smiled down at him.

"Jonathan," he said, "I'm going to come straight to the point. We need you. We want you to accept an internship here at the Institute."

"I'm honored, Dr. Banzai," Jonathan began, but was cut off.

"Call me Buckaroo."