pagenumberWhat the hell. “I’m Sten Janssen,” you say. “What’s the emergency?”

Moretti shakes his head. “Things are completely falling apart,” he says. Then he mutters something into a device clipped to his jacket collar that you don’t quite catch. “The supervillain community is getting organized and planning something big. Plus, we have a traitor in one of the major hero teams, so I don’t know who I can trust.”

He pauses, looking you straight in the reflective visor. “And right now I need people I can trust. Like Sten Janssen, who I worked with for almost 15 years.”

Uh, oh. “Rip this joker out of the suit, boys, and we’ll get somebody dependable in it.”

Before you can protest, something big rockets out of the sky and smashes you into the ground. It’s another Cosmic Guardian, and it’s quickly followed by two more. They must be the Guardians of distant planets, though, because they aren’t shaped like people, and their understanding of human anatomy seems iffy at best. Their efforts to separate you from the armor mostly involve scooping, so your excitement at meeting actual extraterrestrial life is dampened significantly by the chunks of flesh being systematically torn from your body.

Needless to say, you don’t survive the ordeal. Honesty: still the best superhero policy. You should write that down.

THE END

(sorry you’re the worst superhero ever.)
OR

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