“Holy shit,” you whisper. Dave joins you at the window. There are no stars left in the sky. Nothing but blackness and a faint soap bubble sheen. “Is that a dream bubble?” Dave says. And then it swallows you.

You wake up to the sound of rain thundering hard and heavy against the roof of your apartment building.

Random telepathy, human blankets, pinnacle life experiences and the best way to spend a Halloween.

"On the bright side," Dick says as he shimmies down the building, "You didn't raise a group of homicidal, raging, vengeful killers and sociopaths so much as you raised a group of emotionally-volatile, obsessive, spiteful vigilantes and paper pushers."