David Roaway aka. Jet's Story

It was sirens that woke David up that morning. Then again when wasn't there sirens in that town. Someone was almost always having a panic due to some superhero getting spotted briefly or some poor bastard getting mugged. He woke up, starved. He hated the mornings, especially on days after he'd spent the whole night robbing the city blind himself or saving people, whatever his mood brought. A pile of lost things cluttered the coffee table in front of his couch, wallets and watches, phones with their sim cards crushed and abandoned someplace on the streets. His mother had given up telling him off for it all. He got away with it and they got to eat and pay the land lord off their debt one pawn shop at a time. David shuffled to the kitchen feeling slow as he had in the weeks before the incident his metabolism forced to a crawl in the night, his mind a fog of hunger and thirst. He pulled armsfull of food from the fridge and dropped it on the counter, standing on his toes to get it all on. He was very short for his age. Still in the 4ft zone. Not making 5ft even at 18, his hairless childlike face dimpled and smooth, black hair wild and short. He had on a pair of pajama pants that where too long for him and dragged under his barefeet across the broken tile of the kitchen. David dug into whatever meal he could make with what he took. A link of sausage which he tore off and tossed on a lightly sprayed frying pan along with some bacon and a splash of eggs. He gulped down orange juice from the carton and poured himself a bowl of Lucky Charms as he waited for the pan to heat up, he gradually felt his body lift in spirits and energy as he consumed everything he could get his little hands onto, simply standing at the counter not even bothering to settle down at the table. He dropped a pair of toast in the toaster and rolled the sausage around in the slowly simmering egg goop, plucking a strip of bacon out and dropping the greasy strip into his mouth. It was a right awful sight to watch but he knew he was there alone. His mother had already headded of for the day to work her long hours. It went on like that for a while before Jet could eat no more. he put everything away and wiped the counter down dropping the dishes in the sink before he vanished with a sudden rush, appearing next to a counter under a window peering down into the streets. The wind followed him seconds late causing papers weighted to their surfaces to flutter and the curtains to fly. He pulled on a green shirt with a striped tie and a white sweater vest to go on over it along with washed out jeans and a heavy faded brown leather jacket to go over it all. He dressed like an old man with even a plaid worker's cap to top it off and yet he smirked at his reflection briefly feeling for all the world like the best looking man in the city.

The last things he put on where a long off-white scarf and a pair of black, comfortable but skin fit leather gloves. He considered putting on his goggles as well but decided not to should anyone recognize his outfit as JET's. He took to the steps quickly, always moving as if he had an appointment to get to, his legs carrying him at impossible speeds for their length.