There's an abandoned parking lot in the corner of Maple and Rosemary, near the highway. It's overgrown. There are cracks in the pavement and weeds growing in the corners. Close to the corner is a man wrapped in newspaper, with one glaring headline on every front page:


Mystery Man, at this point, was actually snoring softly and a squirrel was eyeing his clumpy beard because it looked like some walnuts. He was curled up on the pavement and sleeping in newspapers that were talking about his own heroic exploits.

Mystery Man was a hobo sleeping in the abandoned parking lot in the corner of Maple and Rosemary, near the highway.

There was one of your typical fast food chain restaurants a little ways from the parking lot. The manager was walking to work and saw Mystery Man sleeping. The manager tossed some coins at the hero and yelled, "Get a job, you lazy hobo!"

That woke Mystery Man up. He blinked several times and yawned. The squirrel ran away in fear of his horrific morning breath. Mystery Man picked up the coins and counted the change. 15 cents and a bit of lint was all that had been left for him.

The whole "get a job" bit bugged Mystery Man. First of all, he had a job: crime-stopping and fighting for the principles of truth and justice. Though that didn't pay anything. Secondly, the manager had denied his request for a job at that very fast food place, and every other place he could find. But getting a job, no matter what kind, was far easier said then done. Nobody was hiring, and he hardly had time. He was too busy with the whole fighting for truth and justice thing.

Mystery Man rolled over and stared at his coat, which had been flattened and wrinkled a little. He rubbed it out, trying to make it smooth again but he was pretty doubtful he could. Mystery Man then darted into the woods and changed into his costume, then, checking to ensure nobody was watching, he flew off into the air into the depth of the city, searching for something that needed to be done. Something always needed to be done.