The Stuff of Nightmares
A second kick knocked out the window. The supervillain’s fist reached out. Her segmented bracers ran the rim of the pane to clear away the burrs and shards that had been left behind. She swung out of the warehouse before the glass had shattered on the concrete walkway below. She was a blur of cloud white, soulless black, and wine red. The glass shards crunched under her armored boots as she dropped the story and a half to the ground. “Wrong exit, criminal,” came a loud, authoritative...