All I can hear is the faint chatter of guards, the whirring snow outside, and the echo of a dripping faucet from the cell next to me. It’s surprising the waters dripping at all, considering the frigid temperatures of the prison they’re keeping us in. I throw myself against the bars of the cell and call out to one of the prisoners across from me. We conversed only for a short time until a guard broke up our conversation, dragging us to the prison yard.
The wind whirs around the three of us, picking up snow as it whips our thick clothing. We discuss our escape: the front gate has ID scanners and any passing vehicles must have permission from the Tower first. From the yard we sneak out to the garage, stealing uniforms as we move. An inattentive guard getting into his vehicle allows us to steal his ID, we hotwire one of the trucks, and we follow behind him.
Lacking his ID, he’s gunned down in front of us. His vehicle swerving off the road and crashing, ensuring his death. We manage to pass through the ID check, the only one amongst us who can speak Russian radioing to the tower for permission. We escape, but now we’re trapped somewhere possible worse: the Siberian wilderness.
We follow the faint car tracks through the snow for many hours before we pick up any radio signal.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” We call over the radio, to no avail. We’re unsure if it’s safe, but we continue anyway, “We’re citizens of the United States of America, we have just escaped a high-security Russian prison—” Someone answers back. But not over the radio.
From the sky descends Superman, holding arms with Wonder Woman, followed by numerous United States military helicopters. They load the three of us into the helicopters and fly us back to the States, allowing us to enjoy our first warm meals in many months.
Some time later we find ourselves seated for a picnic in a park, accompanied by Superman and Wonder Woman. Superman stands up from the table and proudly exclaims his love for Wonder Woman, calling forth a horridly disfigured version of himself from behind one of the park’s trees. This Superman hobbles over, flying as if dragging his body behind himself. Ten fingers on each hand, a bald and tumorous head, his left arm twisted.
Superman introduces him as a clone, made from incest with himself, one that he hopes wont ruin his relationship with Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman, disgusted and horrified attempts to attack Superman to no avail. He grabs her whip mid-air and immediately and silently shoots a laser between her eyes. Angered and confused he begins attacking random park-goers.
My Siberian friend and I had apparently been experimented on by Russia in an attempt to unlock our true laden potential as superhero’s. I tried vigorously to stop Superman, but I apparently lacked powers. Powerless, I simply stared intensely at Superman—poof. He disappeared, and a small line appeared in the bottom left corner of my vision.
“Superman left the game.”