TWENTY SEVEN
AS THE late news played live on a screen, Brett Holt announced to the viewing audience, “Tonight’s guest, a chat with Supernatural Steven Arkin. Maybe he can shed a little light on the Council Interim President’s upcoming address to the United Nations. You’re not going to want to miss this exclusive interview. Tonight.”
Steve clicked off the TV broadcast, and he inspected himself in his wall mirror. His body had taken some blows from that earlier fight in Africa. His burned chest healed somewhat, but it still felt damaged. His house in complete darkness, Steve strolled out of the sliding glass door into his yard. Checking his watch and the milky black night sky above, he jolted upward at a high speed.
The news studio broadcast tower sat in a sea of flickering skyscrapers in
