Superheroes had always fascinated me. I would run around my apartment with a bed-sheet tied around my neck, using laser vision to zap the evil dust bunnies. I didn't want to sit around all day waiting to be saved. I wanted to do the saving.
Then the Army locked down my Territory, destroying it to shambles and killing thousands--my parents included. I witnessed the gates of the city close, a symbol of enslavement that would define me for the rest of my life.
For ten years I've been trapped here, forced to design military aircraft for the Army. I can't stand living like a wretch anymore, but how can I escape if armed soldiers are guarding every exit?
As much as I don't want to believe it, I'm the damsel in distress. I'm waiting to be saved. But superheroes don't exist, and no one is going to swoop down from the sky and save the day.
At least that's what I used to think.
Then I saw the mask.