The first thing I saw when the wool sack was yanked off my head, once my eyes adjusted to the light, was the beautiful woman sitting next to me. She blinked in confusion, squinted at me, then grimaced. There went the one bright spot in my
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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.
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