The fire of a thousand suns washes over me. My skin is withering, charring like I’ve just been hit by Superman’s heat vision. Am I being burned by a flamethrower? No, my accounting professor has snuck up on me and let loose with a blast of nuclear halitosis. Hot, heavy smog invades my consciousness; I feel like I’m drowning in old socks and used cat litter…I fumble in my pockets and open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. Batman swings by on his grapnel. A quick flash of his arm, and two darts fly through the air. One sticks me in the neck—a custom-engineered, fast-acting dose of Kryptonian stem cells. The other hits the professor and expands into a polypropylene bag that encloses him in his own stench. As my ravaged flesh heals, my professor claws at his neck, questioning his life choices.