Monday, February 29, 2016

We Were Heroes, Now Available!

We Were Heroes, Martinus Publishing's latest anthology, is now available!  Check out the Kindle Edition Here, or order a print copy from the publisher.  Amazon and other retail outlets will also have the print version available in the coming days.

For those of you who want a free taste of this exciting anthology, Karl G. Rich's contribution, The Absence of Heat, can be found here.  It is just one of the many tantalizing tales in this collection of old, retired, and off-beat heroes!


As for future Martinus Publishing works, the much-anticipated "Altered Europa" is next on the list, featuring alternate history stories focusing on historical Europe.  See what might have been when this collection hits the market later in 2016!

Friday, February 26, 2016

We Were Heroes Interview: Bruno Lombardi

Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" will be coming out in 2016, and in preparation for this release we'll be running interviews of various contributors.

MTI:  Today I'm interviewing Bruno Lombardi, who contributed a story called "Mr. Cuddles" to the anthology.  Thank you for being here for another great interview, Bruno.

Starting off, let's pretend I haven't interviewed you before, and tell our new readers a little bit about yourself.

Bruno Lombardi:  Well I’m 47 years old and have been currently employed as a civil servant for the Canadian government for over fourteen years now. While I’ve been writing for my own pleasure since university, it’s only been a few years since I’ve been writing professionally. It’s a great feeling having something that you saw as just a great way to relax after work and impress a few friends now being seen outside my circle of friends – and even better, making a few bucks out of it. Not making enough to quit my day job, alas, but it’s still a great feeling being acknowledged for it nevertheless.

My writing tends to be quite eclectic in nature; I’ve written –and published! – everything from horror to science fiction to alternate history to genre-blending stuff that is difficult to categorize with just one term. The fiancĂ©e is quite impressed – and more than a bit concerned! – about how my brain works sometimes!

MTI:  "Mr. Cuddles" appears in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.  In a nutshell, what's it about?

BL:  It focuses on the ‘dark side’ of being a superhero. While most of the superheroes in many stories do it for noble reasons, the protagonist in my story is motivated to do it as a result of some rather unpleasant traumatic events – and, more to the point, by a talking teddy bear giving him advice. I had more than one reader impressed with the sudden shift from comedy to horror.

MTI:  Who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

My favorite hero, oddly enough given the nature of my story, has always been Superman.

MTI:  If you, yourself, could have any superpower, what would it be?

BL:  Just one? That’s a tough one but I’ll go with flying. The freedom to fly in the air like a bird, that moment where you’re floating high above the ground – quite exhilarating.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?

BL:  I have a few things on the go right now: a dieselpunk version of the Rapunzel fairy tale, a unicorn story that’s a comedic mash-up of The Seven Samurai and a story about a haunted subway train.

MTI:  Other than , appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

BL:  I’m co-writer on several stories that will be published in upcoming Martinus anthologies.

MTI:  You're pretty active in the promotion of your published works.  Tell us a little bit about the last convention you attended.

BL:  So after a very long day at the convention I take off and stop by a pub in the area to grab a sandwich and beer. While I’m waiting for the food, I notice one of the servers staring at me. After a moment or two, he comes over to me.

“Sorry to bother you,” he says, “But weren’t you sitting at a table at the sci-fi con with a bunch of your books?”

“Why, yes, yes I was.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a few copies of some of the books with you now, would you?”

“Well, as a matter of fact…”

“Awesome! Tell you what; if you give me two of the books – signed, of course – I’ll pick up your bill! Sound good?”

And that’s how I ended up exchanging books for food, truly the sign of a great writer, yes?

MTI:  Wow, that's something I'd love to have happen, for sure.  Moving on, when it comes to television, are you watching anything new these days?

BL:  Nothing new at the moment but I’m eagerly awaiting the new season of Person of Interest. For those who aren’t aware of the show, it’s a science fiction action-thriller TV series that began as a twist on the police procedural concept and over the course of the last four seasons it’s smoothly developed into a post-cyberpunk spy drama with dueling Artificial Intelligences.

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?

BL:  Well, this is the opening paragraphs to Mr. Cuddles:

"We need to talk."
I blinked in shock and surprise at that line. Not just the fact that it was being spoken to me, but also simply the fact that it was being spoken at all.
The sentence had just been uttered by my stuffed teddy bear.
“What?” was my astoundingly intelligent response.
“We need to talk,” repeated Mr. Cuddles.
I looked around the room. It had been fourteen years since I had last been in my bedroom, having moved away—well, run away, let’s be honest—from home two weeks after mom died and three weeks since dad got… got away with what he did. The room had not been touched since then—grandma had made sure of that—and the place looked exactly like what you would expect a 14 year old boy’s bedroom would look like; Superman bed sheets, a few posters of (now forgettable) 90’s bands, supermodels and TV show characters, and the obligatory piles of toys, comic books and sci-fi books.
And, of course, my stuffed teddy bear, Mr. Cuddles—the only friend I'd had when I was a kid.
We really need to talk,” said Mr. Cuddles patiently.
            I looked at Mr. Cuddles. Yup, he was a teddy bear. Brown. Fuzzy. A bit threadbare. One eye missing.
“Shit.  I’m losing my mind,” I said, out loud.
“No, you’re not,” replied Mr. Cuddles.
Yeah–that alleviated my concerns…
“How…?”
“Don’t know, Brian. It just is,” said Mr. Cuddles. “Now, take a seat. We have something to discuss.”
“You’re a freaking teddy bear!” I yelled.
“Yeah, I know that, Brian. Yeesh! You always were a bit slow. Now would you please take a seat?”
I think I babbled something incoherent but I sat down nevertheless. On the floor, as it turned out. No chairs my size in the room.
“What…?” I croaked.
“By the way, remember that time you pulled my eye out? That stung, you know."
“Ummm… sorry?”
“That’s okay. All water under the bridge, man. But now the important part. Now pay attention; this part is a bit crazy.”
Now comes the crazy part?” I asked cynically.
Mr. Cuddles either missed or ignored the sarcasm in my voice.
“You have a mission in life now, Brian. A very important one.”


MTI:  Excellent.  Thanks for another fantastic interview, Bruno.  For those who'd like to read more of "Mr. Cuddles" and other off-beat hero stories, We Were Heroes will be released On February 29!

Monday, February 15, 2016

We Were Heroes Author Interview: Wayland Smith

Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" will be coming out in 2016, and in preparation for this release we'll be running interviews of various contributors.

MTI:  Today I'm interviewing Wayland Smith, who contributed To Fight the Unbeatable.  Thank you for being here.

Starting off, could you tell our readers a little bit about yourself?

Wayland Smith:  I’m a voracious reader. My primary rule of life is always have a book with me. I’ve worked a lot of jobs that  have given me interesting experiences to write about, including being on tour with the circus, private investigator, co-owner of a comic book shop, and deputy sheriff.

MTI:  Now, getting down to business; what first compelled you to weave fiction, and what's your favorite type of story to write?

WS:  I started writing seriously several years ago when a friend of mine, author Harry Heckel, pushed me into doing NaNoWriMo for the first time. My first novel, In My Brother’s Name, started off as a NaNo project. As for type, my running joke is I write what the little voices tell me to. I skip around genres a lot.

MTI:  Tell me, if you had to pick just one author who has influenced or inspired you, who would it be?

WS:  Just one? Wow. Jim Butcher, writer of Dresden Files, Codex Alera, and Cinder Spires. I love his combination of humor, magic, and heroism. But picking just one is hard.

MTI:  Your story appears in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.

WS:  To Fight The Unbeatable is a quote from Man of La Mancha, a musical about Don Quixote. My story is about aging heroes, in this case, Alzheimer’s. What do you do when someone with the power to level a building can’t always remember who, where, or when he is?

MTI:  Indeed, it is quite a poignant topic.  As a quick aside, my grandmother played in an off-Broadway production of Man of La Mancha in the early 70's.

Moving on, who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

WS: Again, just one? I’ll go with Nightwing, the grown up Dick Grayson, formerly Robin. He was the first sidekick to get his own identity, and I love his pre-reboot costume.

MTI:  If you, yourself, could have any superpower, what would it be?

WS:  Superspeed. I hate being stuck in traffic. No more rush hour jams.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?

WS:  I use what I call the Gatling Gun approach to writing. Each month, I try to do at least one chapter on my various works in progress, revise other work, and look around for short story opportunities like this one. Novels I’m presently working on include Hunter, about a band of monster hunters in Boston; V-Day, my take on a zombie novel, and From the Ashes, a superhero novel featuring Steel, the main character in this short story.

MTI:  Other than your contribution appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

WS:I have a novel about superhuman mercenaries called Cadre Clash that I’m in final revisions on, and hope to have out soon.

MTI:  On a lighter note, have you watched any good tv lately?

WS:  It’s a great time to be a hero geek! I love Flash, and the Netfilx Daredevil and Jessica Jones. I’m also watching Arrow, Agents of SHIELD, and iZombie, all of which I review regularly.

MTI:  How about music?

WS:  My musical tastes are all over the road. Favorites include Queen, Billy Joel, Pink, Dolly Parton, and the Eagles.

MTI:  Can you name three movies that you could watch over and over again and not be bored?

WS:  I do love my movies. Let’s see.. Raiders of the Lost Ark, Field of Dreams, and Avengers, but there are so many more.

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?

WS:   Here are a few paragraphs from Blood Of A Nation, about a man who falls in battle on the first day of the American Revolution but gets brought back as something more.

It had been such a fine day. Absurdly, inanely even, that thought kept circling in his head. As if that could negate everything else that happened. A lovely day, spring in the air, not overpoweringly hot, no rain, a good day for working the fields. McLean could remember the blue of the sky, the brilliance of the sun, and then the terrible sounds like a huge sheet ripping as the lines of muskets fired, then the smoke that wreathed everything and made it near impossible to see. Who had fired first? It seemed important, but there was no way to know. The confusion, the near panic, the thick acrid smoke from the muskets, and then the feeling of being hit by something like a monstrously strong hammer.
            There had been no pain, not at first. Just the dazed confusion, trying to work out what had happened, why he was lying on the ground. Then the burning pain, and later the slow tightness in his chest, it getting harder and harder to breathe. He tried to get up time and again, and felt weakness through his body. His legs shook, refusing to bear his weight, while his arms trembled uselessly.  He tried to cry for help, and only managed a weak croak. The long day passed, the smoke drifting away and he lay there, helpless. The fight had long ago moved off, toward Boston... He thought the militia had won, or at least driven them back. That ought to shock them, King's Army forced back by "peasant rabble." His mind kept drifting to the days before, the fights with his father, his impassioned pleas for the man to just see sense, to recognize the injustice of the King’s treatment of the Colonists.  The bitter sting of gunpowder filled his nostrils, making him cough.  The cough caused him dizzying pain, and he passed out with a tearing sensation ripping through his chest.
            He started awake. It was much later in the day. The sun had moved in its lazy dance through the spring sky.  He was terribly thirsty. He had heard some faint moaning earlier, other wounded no doubt. But now it was still and silent and he was thirsty and it was harder to breathe. It felt like he couldn't get air into his chest. The spring sun was beating down on him worse than the height of summer, tormented as he was by pain and thirst and heat. "Someone... can anyone hear me? Help me," he wheezed out, barely able to hear his own words himself. This would do no good, no aid would answer a call barely voiced. He tried to force himself up, and slid a bit down the slight slope. Fear gripped him as he remembered the Concord River. Not much of a river, true, but as he was now? He'd drown like a helpless babe. He tried to frame a prayer, and passed out again.
            It was dark. For a moment he feared he had gone blind as well, then realized he could see stars– he must have lost consciousness again. The bitter smell of gunpowder had faded, replaced by the cool scent of the river.  Insects buzzed in the darkness.  He called out again for any sort of help, and his voice sounded worse than before. Or more truthfully, barely sounded at all. Was this how he was to die? No great hero, no veteran of battles to free his land, forgotten on the first battlefield of the war, like lost luggage on a dock? He nearly sobbed in frustration, fear, and pain. "Help.... me." he rasped out again. He let his head hit the ground, exhausted by the effort.
            But wait-- footsteps, surely? He could hear the tread, even the creak of boot leather. Amazing how something that wouldn't be remarked suddenly became so momentous. He tried to call out again, and couldn't summon the breath or the strength. But somehow, the footsteps came closer. The words weren't kind, the tone not warm and caring, but they were the sweetest words he'd ever heard.
            "This one lives. He will have to do. Bring him."
            More footsteps, people coming, hands reaching for him. Lifting him up caused new barbs of pain to dig into him.  He gave a strangled half cry, and tried to resist. His powerless limbs weren't up for the challenge. Blackness rushed in on him, and blissful oblivion.

MTI:  Fantastic.  I'm suitably intrigued.  For those who'd like to read more of Mr. Smith's writing, We Were Heroes comes out February 29th!


Wednesday, February 10, 2016

We Were Heroes Interview: Frank Byrns


Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" will be coming out in 2016, and in preparation for this release we'll be running interviews of various contributors.

MTI:  Today I'm interviewing Frank Byrns, who contributed Night Terror.  Thank you for being here.

Starting off, could you tell our readers a little bit about yourself?

FB:  Sure -- thanks for having me. Let's see -- I grew up in North Carolina, and after a brief stint in Arizona, I've spent the last fifteen years in Maryland, about halfway between Washington, DC and Baltimore. And for most of those years in Maryland, I've been writing and editing fiction of all kinds, but particularly superhero fiction. I have published four books of superhero fiction (check them out at www.frankbyrns.com), and also edited 14 issues of A Thousand Faces, the Quarterly Journal of Superhuman Fiction. We published over a hundred stories in a little over four years -- the exact kind of fiction I think readers of We Were Heroes would enjoy.

MTI:  Now, getting down to business; what first compelled you to weave fiction, and what's your favorite type of story to write?

FB:  I've always been a writer, all the way back to grade school when I would write my own GI Joe and Robin Hood adventures. Early fan fiction, I guess. I made comics with some classmates, created Dungeons & Dragons adventures for others. I used to write a little newsletter for a backyard wrestling federation hosted on my neighbor's trampoline. I don't remember a time when I wasn't interested in storytelling of some kind, but I guess you could say I got 'serious' about it in the last ten to twelve years.

My favorite kind of story to write? I like human stories in genre trappings. I like to write superhero stories with very little punchy kicky stuff, no powers, and maybe even no code names that are still distinctly superhero stories. If you took out the superhero element, they wouldn't work nearly as well. I know those sound like terrible superhero stories, but it's a little hard to describe. Hard to write, too! They are crime stories, noir stories, with a little bit of cape in them. Hero noir. Something like that. (Not to say there's anything wrong with superfights and capes and supervillain deathtraps or any of those things -- I like to read some of them, just don't care to write them as much.)
MTI:  Tell me, if you had to pick just one author who has influenced or inspired you, who would it be?

FB:  Just one? For my superhero stories, I guess I'd have to say Kurt Busiek's run on Astro City. I love the way it flips the narrative of  'what it would be like if superheroes lived in our world' to 'what it would be like if we lived in theirs'. A subtle difference in perspective, but one that I have always loved. Those books got me back into comics after a long absence, and they continue to inspire all these years later. 

MTI:  Your story appears in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.

FB:  "Night Terror" was written quite a while ago (originally entitled "Twilight", which didn't seem like a bad idea at the time) and when I saw the call for submissions, it just seemed like a natural fit. The jumping off point was the standard retired police detective who has the one case that he could never solve. You know the guy with the stolen copy of the case file he grabbed on his last day at the office, the one he pulls out a couple of times of year and spreads all over the kitchen table with a bottle of bourbon and some slow jazz in the background. And my thought was, I bet superheroes would have these, too. It kind of took off from there and became something somewhat different (as stories often do), but that was the genesis.

MTI:  Who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

FB:  Daredevil. All the crime noir trappings, the Catholic guilt. Captain America, Batman, Green Arrow, and Hawkeye would round out my top five, but DD is my guy.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?

FB:  Sure. I have quite a few things going -- I usually work on several things at once until one of them catches fire and demands to be finished. I am working on a couple of short stories -- one's a pro wrestler in the 1970s moonlighting as a bail bondsman that I'm starting to get a handle on. I am also working on a novella (probably -- could run a little longer, but I don't think it will) featuring Adonis Morgan, the guy who has proven to be my most popular character. And I've been trying to crack a novel for a while now -- I have a story that feels relatively fully-formed, I just need to find my entry point. To paraphrase a much better writer than I: I have the words, I just don't know what order they go in.

MTI:  Other than "Night Terror" appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

FB:  I have a superhero story entitled "When None Pursueth" that will be appearing on the Ares Magazine website in the early part of 2016. That's the only thing on the docket at the moment, but there are submissions floating out there that will hopefully bubble to the surface soon.

MTI:  On a lighter note, have you watched any good TV lately?

FB:  Sure -- I watch a lot of TV. (Too much TV?) My favorite show this fall had to be Fargo -- I loved the first season, but I found this past season to be essentially perfect. I like what I've seen from the first four episodes of SyFy's The Expanse -- looking forward to seeing where that one goes. I love watching Arrow and The Flash with my kids -- we're looking forward to Legends of Tomorrow in a few weeks, as well.  

MTI:  Can you tell us what the last movie you watched was, and what you thought of it?

FB:  Like most of America, the last movie I watched was Star Wars: The Force Awakens. I loved every minute of it. I loved being able to take my kids, the way my dad took me to see the originals, and the way my wife and I saw the prequels as a newly-married couple. Circle of life, and all that. Thinking critically, I don't know if it was a great movie, per se, but I really enjoyed it. And now that the board has been cleared and restacked with the new characters, I can't wait for Episode VIII. (I also watched a double feature of No Country For Old Men and A History of Violence on my parents' couch the day after Christmas -- Happy Holidays, everyone!!)

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?  (If you'd like to share a few paragraphs or a page of writing, this could be a good place for it.)

FB:  Sure -- here's a little bit from "When None Pursueth", appearing at the Ares website soon. The jumping off point for this one -- what if instead of landing in a cornfield in Kansas, baby Kal El's rocket landed in a back alley dumpster in Gotham City, and instead of being found by a kindly old farm couple... you get the idea.

The story was originally written for a long-ago abandoned shared-world anthology dealing with superheroes in the midst of an alien invasion. I thought it would be fun to approach it as a writer of a regular comic series taking the editorial mandate of a company-wide crossover and shoehorning into his own book as a tie-in issue. So here's a bit from (if you will) Godhammer #422, "When None Pursueth". 

-------------

            The first relief shipment disappeared a week ago; the second, three days after that. So I attached a tracer to the third, and watched as it went from airfield to UN warehouse to white unmarked panel truck to different panel truck, which parked itself on the curb while the driver locked the doors and went inside an 8th Street Thai massage parlor that is owned, if you dig deep enough into the paper trail, by Zito Properties. 
            Three minutes later, a different driver emerged, climbed in the cab, and made his way here, to the back door of Nada. According to the remote camera I placed here yesterday (identical to the one trained on the dock of every Zito restaurant in town – call it a hunch), it's the only delivery they've gotten all day. The implication is clear, as far as I can tell: Mr. Zero is taking the food relief shipments meant for the neediest residents of this town – three more grocery stores have shut down in my neighborhood this week alone – and using it to feed the richest. 
            You would think the city would have cleared out as soon as we realized that we were the focus of the Qraken force, but it hasn't. Among the rich and powerful, it's been almost business as usual. And why not? The Arsenal and their kind have always been around to keep their best interests at heart. For Zero's happy clientele, the invasion is just the latest in a long thread of the same, no different from the time The Unforgiven robbed their Savings and Loan or the time when Kuroikaze poisoned their water supply. 
            They're all still here because they want to be. Unlike folks on my side of the tracks; the only ones left there are the ones who can't leave. The ones who can't just quit their jobs: the police officers, the firefighters, the nurses. The teachers, many of whom won't leave until the last child is gone. They haven't left, so neither can I. Not that I've ever even thought about it.  
            Up on the rooftop, I tap the goggles stitched into my cowl, accessing my magnification lenses to get a better look at the giant goons who just stepped out the back door of the restaurant for a smoke break. Hmmm. This might go deeper than just the food angle – Zero's brought in some heavy hitters. I see Skull Krusher, Monkey Tom, Black Rhino. And you can rest assured that if Rhino's around – yep, there she is. Trouble. 
            The four of them standing there outside the same door, the one between me and Zero. I had expected one, maybe two, goons; it's been years since Zero's lifted as much as a finger with intent. But four – the evening just got a lot more complicated. 
            Almost on cue, I hear a pair of boots landing softly behind me. I say “landing” because I am positioned against the ladder that provides the only access to the roof from below – therefore, the newcomer must have come from above. 
            That, and I recognize the sound of the footfall. I should; after all, I taught him everything he knows. 
            “Hey, Pops,” he says. 
            Like I said: complicated.

* * *

            “Hey, Pops.”  
            It's the right thing to do, announce my presence like that. He already knows I'm here; I'm sure he heard me land. And it's not like I'm trying to sneak up on him. I mean, I could if I wanted to. . . I think. Scratch that – maybe not. He's pretty crafty, the old man. 
            I wonder sometimes how my life might have turned out different if the rocket that brought me to Earth as a child had crashed in, say, a cornfield in Iowa or Kansas rather than a dumpster in an alley in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. Would I have still grown into the same man I've become? 
            But there's not much time for idle speculation these days. I wasn't found by some kindly old widower who might've stepped out of a Rockwell painting (as I imagine her); instead, I was found here, by Godhammer, about two minutes before some crackheads happened across me and sold me into white slavery, or worse. He took me home and raised me as if I were his own, and for that I am eternally grateful. But still, a guy can't help but wonder. 
            Of course, raising me as if I were his own meant molding me in his own crimefighting image. His apostle, he called me, only half-jokingly. My alien DNA gave me powers far beyond any Pops had ever dreamed of for himself; the miracle baby from beyond the stars, he called me. 
            “Hey, Kid,” he says. He still calls me Kid because he knows it bothers me. Worse yet, I know that he's doing it on purpose, because it bothers me, and I still let it bother me. I haven't been Kid Cosmo in ten years. I think his feelings are still hurt.  
            “Quite the murderer's row down there,” I say, mostly to change the subject, motioning towards the array of supervillains enjoying a smoke break below. “Zero must be running a helluva dinner special.” 
            “Yeah, something like that,” he says, no longer able to hide his irritability. I smile a little under my mask. 
            “Stop smirking,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
            I glance towards the northwest sky, which glows faintly, residue from this morning's terrible battle. “We could really use you out there, Pops,” I say. “On the front line.” 
            “You don't need me. You made that clear a long time ago.”
            We have this same argument, one way or another, every time I visit. It's been ten years, but sometimes you'd think I left yesterday. “No, I said we need you. Wildfire's missing, Peregrine, too – it's getting really bad out there.” 
            “My work is here.” 
            “Yeah, well, if things don't start turning around out there, there won't be any here left.” 
            Godhammer gives me his back, watching the scene in the alley below. “When I see a Qraken platoon on 8th Street, I'll let you know.” 
            “You do that, Pops.” I shake my head; the man has always had a singular gift for making me wish I had never come home. 
            “So this is, what, some kind of shore leave?”
            “Yeah, something like that.”
            Pops goes quiet a moment, watching below as Trouble grinds out her cigarette beneath a ridiculously long stiletto heel. She turns for the door, lingering long enough to give us both a nice clear view of the backless black leotard / fishnet ensemble that has been her trademark for as long as I've known her. She looks back over her shoulder coyly, then disappears inside. For a brief moment, I wonder if she saw me up here, the little performance meant for my eyes.
            “You gonna try and see Jackie while you're home?” Pops asks, snapping me out of long-ago memories.  
            “I did – this afternoon. My first stop.”  
            He nods. “Good. Bet she liked that.” 
            Pops may have taught me what it was to be a crimefighting machine, to be superhuman; but Jackie taught me what it was to be human. I think all three of our hearts shattered forever the day she walked out on him. 
            “How about you?” I ask. “You get over to see her much?” 
            He turns, unable to meet my eyes. “Not as much as I'd like. It's hard to see her like that, you know?” 
            I do know. I was there this afternoon. “Yeah,” I say instead. 
Black Rhino finishes off his cigarette, then follows Trouble back inside the restaurant. Two final puffs later, Monkey Tom does the same. Skull Krusher lingers a moment longer, watching as an F-22 screams across the sky at very low altitude, a Qraken starfighter in close pursuit. 
            “That's gonna be tough, fighting your way through that door,” I say, once my ears have stopped ringing.  
            “Yep.”
            “We could try the front door,” I say.
            “We?” Pops asks, a smile creeping across his lips.
            I nod. “For old times' sake.” 


MTI:  Well, I'm suitably hooked.  Thank you for that tempting sample, Frank.  For those who wish to read more of his work, check out We Were Heroes, coming February 29, 2016!