1917
The Mayor of New York was growing uneasy by the day. He could not sleep as he was getting nightmares about him getting killed by a masked man. His wife had grown so fed up by this, that she decided to leave him and go live with her sister. That night again, he closed his eyes but had his pistol under his bed with his right hand firmly grasping it. The windows shook a little hard and he was alerted. Who was that? he shouted as he raised his gun at the window. There was no one. He shut his eyes again hoping to sleep but to no avail. Again the windows shook hard. He resisted the temptation to point the gun at the French window of his huge mansion that he so comfortably lay in. A mansion that he had built with ill-gotten money. He got up, not because of the sound but because there was a knock on his head. He pointed the gun at the man standing there in complete darkness. That gun will not do me any harm, he said. But the Mayor did not any heed to his words. He shot at the man. And true to his word, the man chalked off the bullet like it was nothing. Time to make my presence felt, he decided and he ignited his suit. The suit was made of anti matter and it had a glow that was not seen in this world yet, and he looked like a person that did not belong to the planet. His face was covered in a mask, but the Mayor could tell that he did not belong in this dimension. That was presumably the last thought he had before his face was pummeled to a pulp by Telekensis. He brain splattered all around the covers. Telekenis dusted his hands off and leapt out of the window.