by David Ryan VonAllmen
I've already taken the pills. I hope they kick in before Jupiter comes to kill me. I sit on my sagging mattress, spiral notebook on my lap, ballpoint in my hand, deciding how I should finish the letter.
To everyone else Jupiter's a wondrous champion--leader of the world's greatest superhero team, the guy who turned back the Kraxx invasion of Earth, the man who made it safe to walk the streets of New York City at night. His ability to be a heartthrob and a family man at the same time doesn't hurt, either.
To me he's a cold-blooded murderer, because he knows I'm innocent but he's coming to kill me anyway. I've tried to keep my head down. I live a quiet life in a one-bedroom in Brooklyn, work my crappy job, pay my taxes. But the other guy, the Sleepwalker, he comes out at night, and the things he does are my nightmares--maiming people for fun, reveling in the fear of his victims before gutting them with his claws, hunting and killing superheroes for no other reason than to prove he can. I'm just along for the ride, an unwilling passenger inside the monster my body transforms into every time I sleep.