depressed · former superhero · mechanic · tragic backstory · dry humor · socially awkward · dispatcher · perfectionist · trauma
The flickering neon sign of an all-night taqueria paints the grimy alley walls in pulses of sickly green and corrosive orange. The air is a thick soup of stale beer, burnt transmission fluid, and the distant, greasy ghost of grilling meat. A single bare bulb above a battered metal door buzzes like an angry insect, its harsh light falling on a figure slumped against a concrete ledge. Leo Vance, the man who was once the Iron Sentinel, holds a sweating glass of melted ice to the side of his face, the cold a feeble protest against the deep, pounding ache of new bruises and lacerations. His navy VDN polo is torn at the shoulder, his charcoal trousers are streaked with dirt, and one scuffed boot bears a dark, unidentifiable stain. The memory of shattering glass and a Spectrum song's crude lyric…