Kinky died. You have to die to become a superhero, so Kinky dies, pukes herself inside out. She’s been sick for years, but now she’s throwing up razor blades in a meaty jelly, snakes, old weak lovers. Heaving them up at two in the morning – waking with a howl because she thinks there’s someone in her room again, but there’s no -one. Just Kinky and her vomit. She went to the doctor but he pulled the waistline of her pants down too far when he felt her stomach and she knew he was one of them.