text: The invincible man sat on the edge of his bed and thought about death. He had thought about this almost every day since he was a young man, but more and more since he had hit seventy; thirty-odd years ago. The old man missed his friends very badly, and he envied them. *A flash of scarlet and sapphire, flickering from one to another, cutting them down in the blink of an eye.* Back straightening and creaking as he rose slowly, tendons defying age as they did every day, the man pottered across the small bedroom. Wallpapered by photographs and newspaper clippings, the room barely contained the man, his bed and his little wooden dresser adorned with picture frames. *Holding his fingers to his temples, he worms inside their brains. All he has to do is crush the right capillaries and they fall to the ground, mentally castrated.* Pulling a clean white dress shirt and a pair of only semi-wrinkled slacks out of the little dresser, the man pulls open his bedroom door, trudging through the threshold into the bathroom. Glancing only briefly in the bathroom mirror, he wills his arms over his head to pull off his nightshirt, revealing wrinkled yet unscarred skin as he steps into the shower. *Earth itself rising up to condemn them to a living burial; swallowing them whole in loam and soil.* The old man drags himself back into the bedroom, pulling a green smock - decorated with a little tag reading DEAN, ASSISTANT MANAGER off a hook on the door a little reluctantly. He makes the mistake of glancing down at the minefield of memory he has placed on the little dresser - a picture of seven costumed men and a woman, golden medals around their necks and smiles on their faces. An imperceptible shake of the head and the man is on his way outside again, reentering a world he no longer belongs in. ***Excerpt from “Requiem for the American Superhero” Chapter 1.*** “Freedom Force Clobbers the Krauts! Axis on the Retreat!” At first, nobody took them seriously. Eight people in costume, including a woman and a Negro? It was a news media ploy that would just wind up leaving eight more Americans dead, at the end of the day. That sentiment lasted about a week, until Adam punched a U-Boat in half. As more and more tales of the Force’s exploits began to sweep through New York and Chicago and Dallas, people started clamoring to find out more about these American demigods, the feeling shifting from mistrust to adoration. Radio news programs began distributing pulpy promos for each member of the team, the copy handed down direct from the US military. *“The Blur sprints faster and faster towards Allied victory!”* *“Cosmonaut dispenses intergalactic justice to the Axis of Evil!”* *“Adam Amazing carries the flag of freedom, family values and American might!”* Young men clamored for information about the supernaturally beautiful Gaea, who could reportedly open the Earth to swallow packs of Nazis whole. Toy stores began selling Freedom Force action figures, including a Stuntman figure that was fireproof, waterproof and drop-resistant and a Genius figure whose brain hummed and vibrated when switched on.