The day was the 3rd of August. The location was the Lambric County Airport. The mission? A large sign posted outside the abandoned terminal sported the simple words in bold black letters:
Superhero Barbecue. Welcome all! Bring a costume.
Hosted by the Experimental Aircraft Association, the get-together was set-up for no other purpose than to amuse retirees whose buildings were visited by newcomers annually at most.
Five vintage grills were set up.
Hot dogs sizzled and bargain brand hamburger patties steamed under closed hoods. Batman paused momentarily to flop a crisp patty across the bun on his plate. Returning to the worn picnic table he, he helped himself to the ketchup and joined the conversation.
"I hear you're redoing Hanson's Stinson?"
"Mm-hmm," the man in the red and yellow suit of the Iron Man responded. "Not an easy job though. It's definitely seen better days. Pay's worth it though."
"Oh?"
The Iron Man laughed. "Guess who gets to hitch to ride?"
Batman replaced the ketchup and rounded the table for the potato chips. "Why you don't get a license is beyond me. You know more about aircraft than most of us put together."
With a shrug, the Iron Man turned back to his hot dog. "Waiting for a better opportunity."
Superman wielded the the spatula with expert skill, rounding the tables. "Anyone want another hamburger?"
War Machine eagerly rose. "I do."
At the same instant, Superman turned, the spatula slashing through the first inch of delicate costume material. "Ach, sorry," he apologized, moving the hamburger carefully to the plate.
War Machine shrugged. "It's not a big deal," he responded, already digging into the sandwich.
From the far corner of the hanger, near the radio, someone shouted, "C-16 doing a pattern in a few minutes. Anyone care to watch?" The majority of the group flowed out from the building onto the field. Many sat down on the grass to wait. Conversation continued.
Done with his meal, War Machine stretched out lazily against the grass. Time seemed to crawl. Countless voices blended into a monotonous thrum. Without his notice, his eyes closed and drifted into sleep.
Something clenched his shoulder.
"You're not going to believe this," Iron Man muttered.
"What?"
"The C-16 did a touch and go."
"And," he waited for the rest.
"It bounced."
by 
