Right before you’re about to be eaten alive by bugs, you’re entitled to a flashback or two about how you became a superhero.
Those thirty people in the world who have the physical copy of this storyline should skip it and come back June 3rd, when it ends, and we pick back up with those bugs.
EXT. SKYE'S BACKYARD-TEN YEARS AGO
CAPTION: I've always been stupid.
Establishing shot. Little Asian-American boy, about five or six, stands forlornly reaching towards a red balloon trapped in a very, very tall tree. His mother holds his other hand.
MOM: I don't think we can get it down from there. Sometimes you have to let things go, honey.
CAPTION: I'm kind of proud of it, actually.
Little Asian-American boy faces us and holds, in his left hand, a scribbled blueprint of a bicycle flying up off a ramp into the tree to get the balloon. He's got a helmet on, and crash-pads on his elbows and knees, and with his right hand he grips his bicycle handles. Behind him, in the background above the blueprint we see the ramp already set up. Facing him, with his back to us, is another little boy, Mark, a black-haired Irish-descended boy with freckles, but of course we can't see the freckles. We just see the back of the boy's head, and his shoulders and neck, and he's laying a chubby finger on the blueprint under the ramp.
CAPTION: It means I get to try things no one else experiences.
We're looking up at little Skye on his bike as he soars through the air, above us, with light reflecting off his helmet and pure joy on his face.
Skye has crashed. We see his bike banged up, and he's lying flat on his back on the ground with his leg twisted under him in a way it shouldn't go, probably broken at the knee, and a look of absolute pain on his little face. His Mom leans over him with an EMT or two. In the background, top right-hand corner, you can see Mark being led away by the ear by his dad.
CAPTION (bottom of panel): But I hate it when my stupid hurts someone else.