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The city of [Insert City Name Here] was completely devoid of actual criminals. "Do something illegal, assholes!" she screamed into the night. She stood on top of the RonCo. Towers. She had hoped she could spot some criminals from up there, but so far it had worked about as well as her patrol, turning up nothing. The city seemed to be crime-free. No break-ins, no muggings, no nothing. Not even a damn mendicant. Just peace and quiet. She couldn't even hope for a super villain. She was beginning to grow very discouraged. Being a superhero had always been a dream of hers. Sorta. It wasn't a major dream or anything. She hadn't thought about very much. It was the kind of dream like when you're in the bathroom and you think how cool it would be to be a rapper. And your name could be Tarantula, and you could reach stardom with a remix of Flight of the Bumblebee put to the Theme From Shaft, then lose it all after being caught by your trophy wife, Jennifer Garner, in an orgy with the. A copse of leafy trees sat to their left, breaking the late afternoon sunshine into warm dapples of light and shadow. The sky looked almost too blue to be real, broken only by a few thin patches of perfect white cloud. Somewhere, off in the far distance, church bells sounded. "You bastard," Gemma said, fighting back tears. "How could you?" Without speaking, Michael opened the car door and stepped out. A cool breeze blew a few stray strands of hair across his face. He sat against the bonnet of the car and waited, trying to look calmer than he felt. Eventually he heard the other door open and close. Gemma appeared in front of him and stood, arms crossed and hips cocked. "OK," he said, pouting. "You win. Now what?" Michael thought for a moment. "Let's go down to the water." Gemma nodded, a look of impatience on his face. "You'd better not have brought a picnic lunch, though." He turned and started down the slope. Involuntarily, Michael paused for a moment. The.
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