Click on image to enlarge.

	Regular				Club
List Price:	$1.09				$0.93
You Pay:	$0.60				$0.51
You Save:	44.95%				53.21%

eBook Category: Fantasy
eBook Description: The immortal, mentally infirm Captain Fantasy is brought out of retirement to face enemies who seem to come from his own past, while his handler, master imposter Mr. Li, poses as the Captain's long-dead sidekick. This note-perfect story at once celebrates classic superhero stories and re-examines the nature of heroism.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Realms of Fantasy, 2003
Fictionwise Release Date: October 2004

22 Reader Ratings:

Great	Good	OK	Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [44 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [44 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [29 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [277 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [32 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [86 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [102 KB] , hiebook (KML) [77 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [62 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [26 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [33 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [61 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [46 KB]
Words: 9152
Reading time: 26-36 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Shortly before I met Captain Fantasy, I sliced the end of my forefinger off while dicing cucumber for a salad. I shouted and shook my hand, splashing blood on the counter and tearing the thin strip of skin that held my fingertip on. The tiny lump of flesh tore loose and flew into the sink, down the garbage disposal, gone.

I cursed, then concentrated on my nerve endings, switching off the pain. My whole finger went numb. I had trouble controlling the nerves on such a small scale. Holding my finger in the air like a "we're-number-one" fan at a basketball game, I urged new flesh to grow over the wound. I'd make a few big hamburgers to go with my salad, supply some mass and calories for the healing ... my new fingertip should be grown by morning, though the nail would take longer, and I'd have to either keep the nerves dead or be careful not to scrape the sensitive under-nail skin.

The phone rang. I answered it left-handed, clumsily. I expected my director, Jack Harrah, to call and remind me of that night's dress rehearsal, as if I'd forget. I was playing Orestes, the lead, at Harrah's Greek Revival theater. "Hello?"

"Hi, Li," Brady Doolittle said.

I almost hung up. But why bother? They'd found me. "Boss," I said, neutrally. "I tendered my resignation."

"Not accepted," Brady said cheerfully. "We need the best Metamorph available, and that's you. We let you run loose for nearly a year, never bothered you. Be grateful for that."

So they'd kept tabs on me all along. Well, of course. The Facility didn't lose track of people. "Tomorrow's opening night. Can't it wait until--"

"Your understudy, Bill Monroe, he can handle it. By tomorrow night, you'll be playing a much more important part."

Brady knew everything. Always. That's why he ran the Facility. I looked at the spots of blood on the counter and gave in. "When can I expect you?"

"A car's waiting outside. Pack a bag." He paused. "I think you'll like this one, Li."

"Sure." I hung up. I didn't have to pack a bag; I already had one ready, a change of clothes, travel-sized toiletries. Old habits die hard.