In the living room of a homely Brooklyn apartment, Neo-York -
A boy woke up with a start, his face, healthily tanned from spending a few too many hours playing under the sun, deathly pale. Sweat pooled down from his matted black hair. He breathed heavily, chest heaving in and out before he leaned backwards, resting against a rough synth-leather couch pockmarked with holes in need of repair.
He sucked in a deep breath before leaning forward, palming his face. The light of early morning struggled to stream in through the prison of blinders covering the windows.
Last night, he had stayed up waiting for his parents to come back, but they never did. It was not unusual. They were heroes, after all. 'Justice never sleeps!' was what his dad would have said to him.
"Oh…"
The boy looked down and saw a green blanket wrapped around him. He smiled. That meant his parents had come back and tucked him in.
