And when they happened, I’d be there. Eventually. Once I figured out how to fix this chafing.
The uniform was the first problem. Specifically, the chafing.
Tomorrow, I’m buying better shoelaces. adventures of a rookie superhero
—crashing through a laundry line, getting tangled in a bedsheet, and landing face-first in a dumpster full of expired yogurt.
I lept onto the fire escape—missing the first rung and scraping my shin—and began the slow climb back to the rooftops. My uniform itched, my shin throbbed, and my pride was currently residing in a gutter. But as I pulled myself back onto the roof, I looked out over the city. The lights flickered. The sirens wailed in the distance. And when they happened, I’d be there
"Nighthawk," Barb’s voice came through again. "Head back to base. I have a report of a jaywalker on 5th and Main. Bring your A-game."
Your first adventure doesn't happen on a skyscraper; it happens at a sewing machine. Every rookie learns quickly that aesthetic does not equal aerodynamic. The uniform was the first problem
"Unit 4, status report," the voice of Dispatch crackled in my ear. Her name was Barb, and she had the patience of a saint and the voice of a disappointed librarian.