Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


August 22nd 2016 in Microfiction

“And over here is the clinic,” Wesson said, leading the small group of civic leaders through the labyrinthine halls of the Justice League. “Triage and urgent care for general injuries, a surgical suite, and a private counseling office.” “You have a permanent medical staff?” Ketchum asked, surprised. “We have select staff on call; no need to have people sitting around all of the time,” Wesson replied. “But, of course, when we need them, we need them right now.” McMahon nodded. “Incredible. I think the general public believes these guys are indestructible.” Wesson smiled. “Sure. We treat a lot of deep bruising, inflammation, fractures, the occasional rupture,” he said softly, “and, if they make it, we’ll eventually treat arthritis, memory loss from repeated concussions, and depression.” “Depression?” Thomas asked, surprised. “Can you think of a more optimum set-up for missing who you used to be?” They stood silently, watching a tech nod to Batman before snapping his dislocated shoulder back into place.

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Hi, Burt.

I tried to reach you last week, but got your out of office vacation message; I hope you had a great time.

We’ve had a number of people voice concern over the way you’ve been yelling out, “Winter is coming!” in the hallways and at the close of meetings. I realize that this is probably […]

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