Super

Prologue

Prologue

"I don't trust a guy without a dark side. Call me old fashioned."

– Tony Stark

"Thanks, have a nice night," Grace beamed as an old woman bagged her Reece's and scurried out of the convenience store. Her cheeks hurt from smiling at customers all night long and she hopped from foot to foot to shift her weight. A quick glance at the clock told her she only had twenty minutes left of her shift.

"Good job Grace," Ben smiled from where he was restocking female sanitary items. He followed her gaze and grinned, "I think we'll call it a night, huh?" Grace nodded like a toddler at her manager's suggestion. She was exhausted and needed sleep and from the sharp pang in her side, she suspected she might need some of the items Ben was currently restocking.

"Hey Ben, can you throw me a box of Always?" About to comply, Ben lined up the shot, but then stopped and frowned.

"Grace," he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "you're bleeding." He nodded at the spot in her side where it hurt. Following his gaze, she nodded. That explained the cramps.

"Aw man," she groaned, "this is a brand new shirt! Does blood stain?" The joking stopped abruptly when the pain increased exponentially; it felt like someone was twisting a knife between her ribs! Gasping, she grabbed the counter to steady herself, sending a tray of chargers flying. The fluorescent lighting seemed too bright, too glaring as the blood quickly seeped across her shirt.

"A.J., Steph, call an ambulance!" Ben was panicking as he rushed to Grace's side, skidding to his knees in front of her. "Hang on Grace, I know first aid! Okay, let's see: BLEEDS. B for Barrier–" He was already ripping out pads from the box of Always, trying to press them against the wound, but there was something blocking his way. Ignoring the obstacle, Ben continued fretting. "L for Locate– wow, gee, that's gonna be hard. It's not like there's a freaking GASH in your STOMACH!"

Grace grunted. Suddenly, she dropped to her knees letting out a blood-curdling wail as the patch of blood took a sudden dive down her torso. Ripping open her shirt, Ben found the cut in Grace's side was unzipping as if someone was dragging a knife through the skin.

Then, like the Cheshire cat, a figure emerged seemingly from thin air. First came the feral smirk and the sadistic eyes to accompany it. Then came the spandex-clad body. Dressed all in black, a teenager grinned wildly, the pale skin of the lower half of his face and hands popped against the smoky black outfit he wore. One hand curled around the hilt of a knife protruding from Grace's limp body. The other reached into an invisible pocket and retrieved a business card. Ben watched in horror as the boy extended the card to him with a steady hand.

A cocky smirk played on his lips as he began dissipating once again into mist, his words leaving his mouth with a hiss. He said, "Tell mayor Collins the Invisible Hand sends his regards." And then he was gone.