The trials, tribulations, and occasional benefits of having gods, monsters, super soldiers, and master spies infiltrate your work place...


“I dunno,” the newbie, Walt-something, chimes in as he drops his own pile of shards into the dumpster. “I’m happy. Thirty bucks an hour? My Ma did cartwheels when I told her I landed this gig. City works got nothin’ on Stark Industries. For that amount of dough, I’d shovel shit.”

He surveys the former living room with a critical eye.

“Plus, we could be out there on the streets, hefting alien corpses onto a truck, for minimum wage. In the rain.”

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