A superhero, a ghost, and an angel walk into a bar. Dario, the ghost, feels a sense of déjà vu. He died in a bar, and it seems like he might be reliving that terror over and over again. This time, however, there’s an angel at his side, Dondre, and that brings some comfort.
After a few t0o many drinks, Dwight, the superhero, reveals his animosity toward angels. He’s angry angels get all the credit when someone survives a deadly incident. People think angels are real, while most believe superheroes are only found in fiction.
When a wave of deadly crime sweeps across the country, Dario and Dondre become the prime suspects. Who is setting them up? All signs point to Dwight, the disgruntled superhero. Can the ghost and the angel prove themselves innocent? Will someone else die? And what of Dwight? Is he friend or foe?
Introductions were made. Dario knew the names of all three dogs and six cats currently at the shelter. “And this is Mama Cat.” He save her for last, and she purred for Dondre, too. “I wish I could find homes for all of them before I ... depart for good.”
“Yes. They all deserve love.”
“Everyone does. Almost everyone.” Dario returned to his chair, and Dondre wrapped him in soft, feathery comfort from behind. “Except the creep ... the monster blowing up bars for some twisted reason.” Offering Dondre a seat would have been the right thing to do, but Dario liked him where he was.
“Recapping our top headlines.” The news channel anchorwoman pulled focus. “The Bar Bomber has struck again, this time in Augusta, Georgia. Police believe the serial bomber is now responsible for three explosions so far, in Texas, Maryland, and now Georgia.”
“I had no idea I was even in those places,” Dario said. “Save for Texas, where I live ... lived ... where we are now, until he or she strikes again.”
“Where will the next target be?” the anchor asked. “Law enforcement isn’t sure, and if they have an idea, they’re not saying. An anonymous source has come forth, however, with a description of a pair of suspects, and get this, he claims they’re ethereal.”
Dario leaned forward.
“I know it’s getting near Halloween.” The newswoman’s male partner seemed incredulous. “But this is a serious crime. Are we really bringing supernatural BS into it?”
“Actual footage caught on special surveillance cameras of a pair of suspicious looking males, one captured at all three crime scenes, the other showing up at least twice so far, has officials very interested.”
Dario’s jaw dropped when he saw himself onscreen. “No.”
The next photo, equally shocking, was of Dondre. “Someone is setting us up.”
Dario tried to remain calm for Mama Cat. “Someone who can see us.” It wasn’t easy.
“Dwight.” Dondre said it just as Dario did, and then continued on. “If he has contact lenses that let him see angels and ghosts, why not a camera?”
“Right. Plus, if anyone has access to the press ... I mean, being a superhero, Dwight’s gym, his golf buddies, his Christmas card list ... he’s probably lousy with mild mannered reporters. Why, though?” Dario couldn’t stop wondering.
“I mean, we said it before. A vendetta against angels.”
“Blowing up bars, murdering innocent bystanders -- at least one, so far -- because his feelings are hurt no one believes in him? It’s a bit much.”
Dondre shrugged. “Some people are fucked up, Dario.”
“But ...” It didn’t quite sit right. Dario was up. He set the cat down on the chair and headed for the shelter office.
“Where you going?” Dondre followed, and so did Mama Cat. “She knows you.” Dondre’s smile temporarily lightened a tense mood.
“Yeah. Good and bad, as eventually, I’ll have to leave her.” Dario sat at the desk and clacked a few keys. “I can work a computer.”
“I see that. What are you looking for?”
“Social media. Dwight’s.” Dario signed into his Facebook page. “I wonder if these ever get taken down, or if Facebook will eventually be seventy-five percent dead people.” He pondered something else. “What the heck is Dwight’s last name?”
That was a stumper, but a little detective work brought results.
“Wow. You should do this for a living.” His hand already there, Dondre gave Dario’s shoulder a squeeze. “Sorry.”
“You make a pretty cute face when you think you’ve stepped in it.” Dario, looking back over his shoulder, had to touch that face. “It’s okay. And thank you.” Then, he went back to internet. “Comicon seemed like a place Dwight might go to feel almost himself.”
A picture of Dwight dressed as Marvel’s Falcon took up the whole screen.
“Maybe it feels a little like gay pride to someone in the superhero closet.”
