Collin said I have to decide which is the alter ego: Frankie, the office receptionist, or Foglifter, the superhero sidekick. This came up because I was telling him having two jobs is really kicking my ass, I’m not getting enough sleep and my other boss is starting to notice. Collin— sorry— El Nocturno and I were tracking this jewel thief at three in the morning, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. El Nocturno pushed me into a brick wall and jabbed his padded finger into my chest as he yelled, night goggles glowing red. That’s when the perp ran into a getaway chopper and flew off and El Nocturno put me on secret lair maintenance for a week. I’ve had lunch with other sidekicks and this is the defining experience— you try to speak up, it gets in the way of heroics. Plasma Girl didn’t get paid for a month because of a direct deposit issue. Plasma Girl, second-highest frontrunner for solo promotion, next to myself. We’ve talked about a union, but, I don’t know. Two dozen evil goons tried to unionize earlier this year, now there are two dozen less evil goons. Alpha Boy said the League of Defenders wouldn’t allow our bosses to lash out that way but Alpha Boy got bumped to Alpha Man and works his sidekicks for less pay than anyone else. I don’t want to put up with the shit these so-called heroes call sensible! You understand? Who wants to be sensible? Who wants to validate parking all morning long? Frankie, maybe, but not Foglifter. Foglifter’s ready to go full-time, create some fucking jobs and get two dozen evil goons back to what they do best. I know all the weak points in El Nocturno’s secret lair, and I’ll know every superhero’s once you third-rate sidekicks tell me where.