This is not the story of how I became a superhero. Far from it in fact.I was just your average all American reject. The kind of guy you never even not...ce, getting lost in the endless shuffle to and from class. I felt indifferent towards most of the small world that surrounded me with one very big exception. The girl of my dreams, Olivia Hamilton.I cannot remember a time in my life when I wasn't staring at her or daydreaming about one day asking her to marry me. She had been my neighbor for what. I would rise about nine in the morning and make my ablutions and have breakfast. After which I would catch up on any company paper work and deal with any disciplinary matters. At noon I was served a good lunch by Mine Host of the Anchor Inn, a well-made buxom woman, with a fine head of coppery red hair. I estimated her to be around forty years of age, and she carried those years well.After my lunch I would take my ease until half past two, and then I would put on my tunic, buckle on my sword. More

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