"It looks cool," I suggested. "You know. Dramatic.Like your pauses," I mocked."Does it have something to do with that tired clich? that with greatpowe... comes great responsibility?" ahe suggested.She knew that? One of my key tenets... I sighed angrily. The way she'dmocked it I guessed I'd hit a nerve. She thought herself superior. Itfigured. But antagonism wouldn't help, no matter how good it felt. Timeto start this basket weaving session and see what I can learn. "I do ittro... protect.... Bartlett holding his daughter in one arm with the other around his wife. The little girl had a bandage wrapped around her arm and some bruises on her face. Mrs. Bartlett just had some bruises. She was desperately trying not to cry, but was failing. Mrs. Behr stood up and wrapped the other woman in a hug, which just made Mrs. Bartlett sob. She probably blamed herself for Fuzz dying, too, but I knew better. Her part in everything was an accident. What I did, not helping Fuzz, had been. More

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