[i]So this is it, huh? Some of the most powerful, dedicated, and fashion challenged men and woman on the planet, all gathered into one room. Daniel woulda loved this. [/i]Tommy Springsteen, better known as the lightning-slinging hero 'Hi-Voltage', stood a little apart from his supposed peers, content at the moment to merely watch the others in their interactions. Truth be told he felt that even if did desire to speak to them that he would struggle to find any common ground with the assemblage, besides the obvious fact that they all had far too much time on their hands. 

Arms folded across his chest, he wondered to himself if he'd ever felt so out of place in his life? Did they do what they did out of a genuine desire to do good? Or were they more like British-Bulldog, fighting the 'good fight' in the pursuit of personal fame, glory and riches. Or like him were they driven by regret and shame, tortured by some mistake in their past. Did they feel a pang of guilt every time they heard their name in the news, or avert their gaze from every picture of themselves righting some wrong, feeling that it could never be enough? [i]God I hope so. Surely I can't be the only bastard in this room, I mean look at that guy wearing full motorcycle leathers and helmet on a day like today! That nutcase looks like he gets his kicks by punching kittens. [/I]

The simple truth was that Tommy was feeling a bit self-conscious, standing just outside of this crowd wearing his supersuit. He had gotten used to wearing the distinctive, figure-hugging, blue jumpsuit in public, but here it was different. Here everyone else had their own costume, and he was sure they could see him for what he really was, a sheep in wolfs clothing. 

What made him stay though was the fact that he was certain that most everybody else here was thinking the same thing. Sure, some of them probably got a kick outta wearing a costume and being the idol of millions of regular people, but Volt reckoned a lot of the people here had probably come to the same conclusion he had; that the public liked their heroes to look like heroes. It made them feel safe. Or at least he hoped that was the reason, and he wasn't actually surrounded by a group of superpowered cosplayers. He'd seen enough of that nerd shit with Daniel to last him a lifetime.

And besides, he didn't have anything to prove to anyone here. He'd been at the hero game for as long as anyone else, longer than most, so he knew he'd paid his dues. [i]Besides, I'm not here for them. I'm here for Obsidian, and they're a means to that end. [/I]

So he stood there, listening to crap elevator music, waiting for the three founders to get this show on the road and trying not to draw any attention to himself.[I] Not that's going to be difficult in this crowd, even while wearing this get-up.[/I]