Flying into Dallas at 4PM, I land near a busy intersection. Now that there aren’t any phone booths anymore, I struggle to find a place to change clothes quickly.
Next move? Work.
Possibility of finding a job at a local paper? Slim.
Chance there will be a bus teetering precariously on the edge of a bridge, about to plunge a hundred feet into the river below, passengers screaming to be saved, none aware of the means by which a local super villain put them in harms way? Uncertain.
Does this place even have any local super villains? Gosh, I sure hope so.