The Unforgotten Country

Bob was beginning to wonder why he bothered. Yeah, it did feel good to put criminals behind bars. There was something comforting about the nice solid thud they made as they hit the pavement, but it just wasn't as fulfilling as it had been. He chewed thoughtfully on the stub of his ever-present cigar as he wandered the streets of Paragon City. On almost every street corner there were gang members loitering, muggings, even the occasional Circle of Thorns s'mores roast. He'd been fighting them for ages and it never seemed to make a dent. And it wasn't just him. Hundreds, if not thousands of caped crusaders wandered the sidewalks along with him. Some days he couldn't elbow his way onto the plaza, much less talk to his contacts. There was something wrong with the equation, but he wasn't sure what.

It was time for a new cigar.

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These snippits are copyright Martha McMahon Bechtel and may not be reproduced or distributed without express permission. All rights reserved.