At the Icy Bastion

The Winter King sits on his throne of ice and sweats a little. It’s too hot here. It’s too hot everywhere.

His crystal monitors dance like auroras, showing him the warm-blooded world. A new kid swaggers on a rooftop. Virginia’s strung up between two satellite antennae, looking nonplussed, and Joe’s winking at her, ignoring the new kid’s monologue.

The Winter King sighs. These amateurs never know what to look for. The Kid Stupendous slips along the outside of the roof, and the new kid is flanked without knowing it. There’s something to him, though, that makes the King smile.


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