Anticipation pulses through Anya as she hears the car pull up outside. She rises, making her way to the door, giggling quietly before schooling her features and opening it.
The man steps onto the porch, his aftershave hitting her nose, the scent marking his youth. “Mrs. Jansen? I’m Jed Barker. The agency sent me.”
“Good morning, sir.” The smiling woman in the white lab coat held the door open. “Cubicle One, as usual.”
“Thank you.” Donald returned her smile as he limped through with his cane. I’ve wanted superpowers all my life, but this is what
A man in a suit dropped a bottle cap on my table at the back of the soda shop. I flipped it over. It had a white dot painted inside. He knew my code, which meant he was part of the underground crime system, but
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Marjorie woke up strapped to a surgical table in an unfamiliar laboratory. One minute, she had been walking to her car alone, worried her life was going nowhere; the next, she’d fought for it as a pungent cloth covered her nose and mouth.
Read it now
“S.A. meets here tonight.” The crinkled, handwritten sign hung askew on the door. Lucy tapped the edge of the paper, and it instantly righted itself.
As Lucy tugged the handsewn mask over her face, a loose thread dangled in front of one eye. She slipped it under
“What made you want to be a superhero, anyway?”
Leslie Lewis was startled by the question. The stone-faced lady filling out her superhero license application couldn’t really be looking for an answer. What was Leslie supposed to say, that she wanted to use her powers for good?
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.
Janitor. Maid. Hygienic maintenance specialist. All these job descriptions were technically accurate. But none of them alluded to the truly unique skillset required to be a member of the staff cleaning crew at C.A.P.E Quarters—that is, the headquarters of the Crimefighting Association of Powered Entities.
She was Dee Dalsey … The Cleaning Lady.
I staggered into the kitchen, pulling on the white-grey shirt of my superhero suit and accidentally jamming my toe against a chair. “Ouch!”
Behold, the mighty hero Shields, sans coffee.
With the shirt on properly—never mind, it’s on backward—I jabbed a button on the coffee maker. Gurgle, gurgle.
“Mister, um…” Brushing a stray brunette lock from my eyes, I squint at the top section of the form on my clipboard. “I hope I’m pronouncing this right. Is it Uberloorde?”
Bare scalp glistening under the fluorescents of my cramped office, he adjusts
“Grow, and live,” I whispered to the glass butterfly in my hand. I kissed it and placed it into the dirt hole in front of me.
“Now cover it,” my mother said. “Everything must die and return to the earth before it can grow.”
“Ugh, could you be any slower?”
I risk a glance over my shoulder to look at the current angry customer. She’s dressed in an expensive-looking coat and is staring daggers into the back of Jimmy, my coworker, who is fumbling to spray whipped cream into her mocha.
He doesn’t reply as he drizzles a little chocolate over the cream
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