Sometimes, even superheroes need to call 911.
Superman lay face down in the alley next to a Dumpster, a circle of dried blood staining his red cape. Detective Harbison gazed down at the body and decided that regular bullets could take down the Man of Steel just as well as kryptonite.
“Poor Markie!” The Latina standing beside him dug her plump fingers into her skirt pocket and pulled out a tissue. “He’s a good customer. He says, ‘Imelda makes the best coffee in town.’ Markie comes in my diner when he takes a break from work.” The alley where they stood was just behind the tiny restaurant.… Read the rest