Look, I get it: I’m not your typical superhero. I don’t leap tall buildings, I’m not a billionaire playboy, and I didn’t get bitten by a radioactive spider. Plus, I don’t wear tights. Where the heck would I keep my gun?

But don’t get it twisted: I, private detective Truman Lord, am still very much a superhero. If my gun doesn’t get you, my powers surely will. I’m thinking about using that as my catchphrase. Don’t try to steal it. I copyright my stuff.

When Eileen hired me to stop a former lover from blackmailing her, I thought it would be a simple matter of using sweet reason to persuade him to stop. I call my right fist “sweet”; my left one is “reason.” But, when people started turning up dead and supervillains came out of the woodwork, I was soon investigating a murder case where I was the next target. Someone wanted me dead.

I hoped to foil their objective. “Foil" is superhero and detective-speak for “punch them in the face.”