He sits back and crumples the paper with his powers, wondering if he pushes hard enough if it will form a black hole, if maybe that would end his problems, because it would probably destroy the world. f**k. With a sigh he lets the crumpled paper drop back to the table. Who’s he kidding? He’s no supervillain with a secret desire to make the world pay. He’s just a superhero who’s been sucking at his job. Maybe he is getting too old.
A buzz from his pants makes him wish that he could crush his phone like he had the paper, but he pulls it out anyway, dreading what might be there. A notification that he was being removed from the Superhero Alliance? Maybe an email from his landlord telling him he was getting evicted? His gaze stuck on the text, once again from a restricted number.
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