The lonely alley was coated with dripping ice in mid-July. Partially crushed, a sideways dumpster pined a limp hand underneath it.
Clair nodded. "Something changed a summer's day into a deep freeze, then crushed this poor old dude. It's gotta be a super."
Asil studied the tarnished ring she'd found on the asphalt. "Hold that thought: Once upon a time, this guy WAS a super."
"The 70s were all glitz and glam. Before that, we torched villages in Vietnam, hunting communist supers. I remember the screams."
"You're a hero, Asil! I was just a soldier. I did it for a paycheck, and the government drugs that kept my powers from killing me."
"Star Squad was a joke! A government PR campaign making capes out of the least fucked-up remnants of a super-soldier experiment!"
The scaffolding began to topple, and Asil reached out with her power. A tarp saved a man snagging his boot as a blue tendril.
Suprised, Clair fished the beeping, tarnished Star Squad ring from her pocket. "A distress signal?" Asil asked. "He's in trouble."
Copyright © 2017 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.