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62 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 4, 2012

"Listen," Clarke said, baring his teeth. "First, I'm not a superhero. I don't want a sidekick. I don't need a sidekick. I don't fly through the air and stop Lex Luther from taking over the city. I just stop whatever evils I happen to see."
"Second, about how I got my powers. I've been asked that very question by every fan, friend, casualty, reporter, naysayer, detractor, cop, and every federal agent of every country I've visited, plus four Kings and Queens of Britain, and twelve United States Presidents, and I'm going to give you the same answer. I don't fucking know! I was just born with them and they are a natural extension of my will!"
"Richard Clarke aimlessly wandered the streets of downtown Detroit. Derelict buildings towered above him on all sides. He looked at home in the dismal setting with his wrinkled trench coat and days old beard. He hadn't showered in almost a week and his short disheveled hair showed it. However, despite his poor hygiene, any passerby would have sworn he smelled like a freshly cut lawn. Clarke chose the smell since it was one of the few things left that made him feel anything."
"He was just going in circles, extinguishing what little he could. He was tired of leaving place after place, reestablishing himself in each new city. World War II had ruined him, and he had been killing ever since."
"He had all the power he could ever want, but it still wasn't enough. He was human, just like everyone else, with flaws, failings, and too much anger for one man."

“You… are going to spare me?” Clarence asked.
“Hardly,” Clarke said. “By giving in to the gang and joining them, you’ve only helped strengthen their numbers and domination. You should have fought them.”
“Are you kidding?!” Clarence shouted. “They would have killed me!”
“Better to die on one’s feet than live on one’s knees.”
Tears formed like a stiff branch as his body went into shock. It was an incredibly painful death.
“Richard?” Chloe said, gripping his arm out of concern.
“I’m fine,” he answered. “Just tired. I haven’t had a real home since the end of World War II. I’ve forgotten what it was like to stay in one place.”