Superpowered NYC -- Floor 97,612 | BYOA
The buildings looked like tiny black islands, immersed in an ocean of fog. LEDs and neon lights couldn’t quite pierce it, only painting a sign-shaped color into the mist, the golden glow of the streetlights were the only respite from the dark in less crowded areas. It smelled like rain, like gasoline and Chinese food and Italian and Hamburgers and trash and death. It was Alfred’s city.
The night had been pretty slow. He’d tagged along with the police, but they seemed to be just like him, patrolling, waiting for trouble. There were no bank robberies, no drive-bys, not even drunk driving! He’d never seen anything quite like it. It should have made him feel happy, but it didn’t. It made him feel a bit anxious, like they weren’t in the clear, but rather in the eye of the storm.
Suddenly a scream pierced the air, and though Alfred would never admit it, he pursued the noise with relief.
((OOC: So you can be whoever you want, the person being saved, the villain doing the attacking, some weird-ass anti-hero being morally ambiguous, or even a nagging sidekick, complaining the way Alfred saved the person in distress wasn't good enough. If you want to play with girl!America instead of boy, just write "Amelia" in the subject line. Thread-jacking is okay with me, you only have to ask the other person. Oh, and no limits for this guy. FINALLY. ALFRED GETS TO BE THE HERO.))