open for the spring breezes and the alley cat who condescended to visit him occasionally.
When he lifted the sash it shot up much harder than he’d intended, cracking the glass in the frame. Damn. He squeezed in. He’d have to deal with the glass later. In climbing over the bookcase below the window, he knocked into it, sending it flying, scattering books across the floor. And that, he’d deal with that later, too. He felt like a gorilla in a china shop, or whatever. He’d thought to use his enhanced speed to get quickly in and out and on with his day, but no.
Greg moved with exaggerated care to avoid bumping anything else on his way to the kitchenette. If he switched back to normal, he’d miss this chance to practice applying his powers to stuff less durable than elephants and cars before he had to do so in a more public way.
How had Superman managed in his Clark Kent guise? It proved surprisingly hard to gauge the strength it took to do small, ordinary things like open the refrigerator without tearing the door off its hinges, or open the peanut butter without crushing the jar in his grip. Let alone applying peanut butter and jelly to bread without mashing the bread to a paste. He threw a couple of botched attempts out the window for the squirrels and birds before he produced a sandwich that held together long enough for him to eat it. He followed it with half a carton of milk. It might not be scallops with cashews and basil, but it hit the spot.
Recalling the potholes he’d left behind on his earlier take-offs, Greg didn’t dare attempt leaving through the same window by which he’d entered. He left his apartment taking great care of the door and lock mechanism and practically tiptoed down the stairs and out to the alley, where he relaxed, shaking off the sensation of being three sizes too big for his apartment. Nobody’d care if he harmed the weeds beside the garage, out in the open air with plenty of elbowroom. Now to try taking off again without adding a new crater to the ruts of the alley.
Stepping as lightly as possible, he started off at a run, faster and faster, aiming high, building up to super speed as if flinging himself, like a Frisbee, into the air. He took flight in time to soar above any cars passing the mouth of the alley and twisted to look behind him, zeroing in with super vision. The alley looked no worse than usual, no fresh new potholes anyhow.
Even at super speed, Greg had only gotten as far north as Franklin Avenue before a now familiar buzz sounded in his ear.
“Hurry!” Serafina’s voice urged him. “It’s a home invasion.”
Chapter 7
No sooner did Serafina impart the address than Greg bent his angle of flight toward Prospect Park, steering by the ‘witch’s hat’ tower standing on the highest bit of ground in the city.
The house proved to be an older Tudor-style structure shielded from the street by trees and hedges. He circled above. What now? Ring the doorbell?
At the same moment he remembered the option of x-ray vision, his super hearing brought him the sound of flesh striking flesh and a woman’s muffled cry.
Greg spun in the direction of the sound. It came from the upper story of the house. Focusing intently revealed shadowy figures through the walls. Guns showed clearly in the hands of the two standing in the center. A slight figure crouched over someone lying unmoving nearby.
He crashed through the window, tearing it from its frame before he thought better of it. Who would pay for the damages?
He landed in the large, well-upholstered bedroom in full superhero regalia.
“What the hell,” someone exclaimed.
It didn’t take super vision to read the situation. The guns in the hands of two unkempt youths swiveled instantly from the fallen man and crouching woman to take aim on Greg as he alit inside the destroyed window.
He had barely time to flinch before one of the guns fired.
Something struck his chest and he stumbled back a step. The impact
When he lifted the sash it shot up much harder than he’d intended, cracking the glass in the frame. Damn. He squeezed in. He’d have to deal with the glass later. In climbing over the bookcase below the window, he knocked into it, sending it flying, scattering books across the floor. And that, he’d deal with that later, too. He felt like a gorilla in a china shop, or whatever. He’d thought to use his enhanced speed to get quickly in and out and on with his day, but no.
Greg moved with exaggerated care to avoid bumping anything else on his way to the kitchenette. If he switched back to normal, he’d miss this chance to practice applying his powers to stuff less durable than elephants and cars before he had to do so in a more public way.
How had Superman managed in his Clark Kent guise? It proved surprisingly hard to gauge the strength it took to do small, ordinary things like open the refrigerator without tearing the door off its hinges, or open the peanut butter without crushing the jar in his grip. Let alone applying peanut butter and jelly to bread without mashing the bread to a paste. He threw a couple of botched attempts out the window for the squirrels and birds before he produced a sandwich that held together long enough for him to eat it. He followed it with half a carton of milk. It might not be scallops with cashews and basil, but it hit the spot.
Recalling the potholes he’d left behind on his earlier take-offs, Greg didn’t dare attempt leaving through the same window by which he’d entered. He left his apartment taking great care of the door and lock mechanism and practically tiptoed down the stairs and out to the alley, where he relaxed, shaking off the sensation of being three sizes too big for his apartment. Nobody’d care if he harmed the weeds beside the garage, out in the open air with plenty of elbowroom. Now to try taking off again without adding a new crater to the ruts of the alley.
Stepping as lightly as possible, he started off at a run, faster and faster, aiming high, building up to super speed as if flinging himself, like a Frisbee, into the air. He took flight in time to soar above any cars passing the mouth of the alley and twisted to look behind him, zeroing in with super vision. The alley looked no worse than usual, no fresh new potholes anyhow.
Even at super speed, Greg had only gotten as far north as Franklin Avenue before a now familiar buzz sounded in his ear.
“Hurry!” Serafina’s voice urged him. “It’s a home invasion.”
Chapter 7
No sooner did Serafina impart the address than Greg bent his angle of flight toward Prospect Park, steering by the ‘witch’s hat’ tower standing on the highest bit of ground in the city.
The house proved to be an older Tudor-style structure shielded from the street by trees and hedges. He circled above. What now? Ring the doorbell?
At the same moment he remembered the option of x-ray vision, his super hearing brought him the sound of flesh striking flesh and a woman’s muffled cry.
Greg spun in the direction of the sound. It came from the upper story of the house. Focusing intently revealed shadowy figures through the walls. Guns showed clearly in the hands of the two standing in the center. A slight figure crouched over someone lying unmoving nearby.
He crashed through the window, tearing it from its frame before he thought better of it. Who would pay for the damages?
He landed in the large, well-upholstered bedroom in full superhero regalia.
“What the hell,” someone exclaimed.
It didn’t take super vision to read the situation. The guns in the hands of two unkempt youths swiveled instantly from the fallen man and crouching woman to take aim on Greg as he alit inside the destroyed window.
He had barely time to flinch before one of the guns fired.
Something struck his chest and he stumbled back a step. The impact
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