And The Silver Spoon
You called yourself The Bolt (it was the 90s).
You started off small, stopping petty shoplifters, sloppy bank robbers, and greedy purse snatchers.
As the years went by, and as your identity remained intact, you began taking on bigger bad guys. The kind that had powers like you, too. The kind that threatened major New York landmarks and innocent civilians parked cars on the city blocks of Manhattan.
The kind that called themselves super villains, similar to how you called yourself a superhero.
Your fame skyrocketed over the years. You got movie deals. Merchandise. Theme songs. Your face painted on the sides of important buildings. And out of the mask, the women just flocked to you. Your newfound characteristics made you devilishly handsome and irresistible to them. You confided in none of them; after all, your identity wasnt something to mess around with. But you enjoyed their company nonetheless.