If there was one thing that Iris City had in surplus, it was abandoned buildings. In his Icebird guise, Houston Haas circled over a block full of them, trying to localize the lady’s cries for help. At last, he pinpointed a rusting building that had once been a warehouse, surrounded by a graveyard of other similarly decrepit structures.
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A job for Icebird, on Dad’s birthday. How ironic is that?
One year ago, Houston Haas had taken up the mantle of Icebird from his late father, complete with costume, jetpack, and freeze ray, but in a wholly different direction. His father, Jerry, had used his inventions to help criminals commit robberies for a cut of the loot.
“If you’re watching this, then I’m sure you have a lot of questions I’m not there to answer.” In holographic form, Jerry Haas looked almost apologetic—almost.
“Yeah, Dad, you could say that,” Houston said. Despite all the high-tech equipment in the cavernous secret room, his attention was riveted on the contents
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