The brute slammed Clair into a wall, but she stubbornly clung on to his back and unleashed enough voltage to drop an elephant.
Most picked weapons like swords, eyeing each other as opponents. Theresa chose a hatchet, knowing the real opponent would be nature.
"Why are the enemy pilots so little? They're hobbits!" "Genetic engineering. Small pilot, small cockpit, small target."
"Capes? A bunch of glory hound vigilantes if you ask me! Yeah, I'm a Super.. But I'd never trade my police badge for a mask."
"Aren't wizards supposed to use wands?" "Traditionally, but I used some imagination and enchanted an 1880 Colt Peacemaker instead."
She hugged him as the dream faded. "Please remember." He awoke writing a number he didn't know. He never regretted calling it.
Small hands shook her from sleep. "Mom." "Hon, what?" "There's a monster." "Under your bed?" "No. Right here," said the stranger.
Copyright © 2017 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.