Trevor has been at this for 8 years now. He's 19. Yes, he's been a hero since he was 11. Deal with it. Anyway, he's been doing hero stuff for 8 years, and in all of his years of experience...nothing prepared him for this.
"You're telling me...you want me to pay for all of your stuff...because YOU accidentally bumped into me?" "Yes, now do it, you white-haired freak!" Trevor was shopping in the tech aisle of the local Large Mart ("50% off is a really good deal for computers!") when he had bumped into the local crabby lady known as Marilyn Jenkinson. Or, well, she bumped into him. Forty years of constantly having things given to you by your parents did not make Marilyn a really great person, that was for sure, and she was currently threatening to get him charged with sexual assault if he doesn't pay for her $1200 laptop repair and a new phone.
"Look, ma'am-" "Don't you dare "Ma'am" me! I will sue you for emotional-!" "Alright then. I'm not paying for your crap, you look like you're 40 years past your own expiration date, and I'm not talking to you." Trevor interrupted the woman, a bold move for most people. "M-My word-!" "Buh bye, bother someone else!" Trevor quickly started walking away with his basket of items to the checkout. The clerk at the checkout looked up and chuckled. "Marilyn again?" he asked, questioning gaze on his face. Trevor let out a hearty laugh and nodded. "Yup, Marilyn "Manson" Jenkinson," the hero-in-disguise joked. The clerk sighed a little. "I expected that...here, let me give you my employee dis-" "No no, it's all good, I've dealt with worse!" Trevor exclaimed defensively. The employee shrugged and rang up his items.
Trevor soon was walking out with a basket full of items and was taking a walk to his home outside of the city. He didn't mind living alone, he preferred it, really. The silence was peaceful, it suited him when he was doing art. He walked on inside his home, down the hall, to the right, and flopped down onto the bed. "Ugh, glad that's over with..," he muttered, face first in his pillow. He was tired. Though, I guess when you're an insomniac you can't exactly help it, can you? Before he could fully fall asleep, his phone started buzzing. "....Uuuugggghhhhh...." He groaned and sat up, grabbing his phone. An alert, some gunshots being fired on Northwest Ferrald Boulevard. "Gunshots....eh, might be some good practice." He slid out of bed, yawning, and grabbed a small keychain charm and some fingerless gloves. "Alright, let's do this..." He slipped the gloves on and squeezed the charm. A few lights on the gloved flashed a turquoise blue, and a liquid started coming out of the cracks between his fingers. The liquid quickly moved, covering his hand, then his arm, then his body and the rest. He was covered head to toe with the liquid, which then proceeded to harden up. It formed a sleek suit, white and red with gold accents here and there, including the belt. His head was covered in a helmet and a reflective golden visor that reached his chin, along with red wingtips that reached down to the bottom of the helmet like a chinstrap. "Okay, gyroscopes are good...initiating photonic shift." As soon as he said this, the golden accents started glowing along with his visor. "Let's go." He then rushed out the door at high speed, glad that he nailed stuff down before leaving. As he sprinted through the city streets, reaching speeds well over 200 MPH, small, red, wing-like parts of the suit opened up on his back, slicing through the air. "Good, backdraft reducers are working...don't wanna accidentally send a car flying towards people from the wind I make." Trevor soon reached the boulevard and skidded to a stop. "Alright, what's going...on...here...?" Trevor trailed off as he looked out onto the sea of thousands of militia men, dressed in black and orange.
"So, uh....anyone just want to settle this on a game of Rock Paper Scissors?"