Shutting the television off filled the workshop with total silence. Basil leaned back on his chair – he had been working on the prototype for a stun gun when news of Desolation-in-Light’s appearance in Moscow came through. He had spent the last two hours watching as the Sovjet Union had deployed nearly every single superhuman they had and, as had everyone before them, failed to do more than slow DiL down for a bit.

It somehow reminded one of their mortality. Maybe it was the way Red Star, who still looked like a sixteen-year-old, had been torn limb from limb before being impaled on the Sovjet Flag in front of the Kreml. Red Star had been one of the more powerful S-Class metahumans.

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