I sometimes wonder why, in this great big world of ours no one (aside from the occasional crackpot) has donned a cape and taken it upon himself (or herself) to go about fighting crime.
Since fortuitous bites from radioactive fauna are pretty rare, I’m thinking a real-life super hero would need to go the Batman route of equipping himself with all sorts of technical wizardry. What sort of gadgets could one actually obtain that would render him “super?” I’m thinking bullet-proof vest, pants, etc. would be a good start, but I know you guys could come up with something way more creative than that.
I have actually been bitten by a radioactive (or at least highly irradiated) spider. Real gamma radiation from a facility testing radiation effects on electronics, not microwaves or something wimpy like that. Unfortunately, the results Marvel Comics led me to expect have not been forthcoming.
Well, you have to drink the magic formula. I’d tell you what it is, but that would reveal my secret identity.
Faster than a speeding turntable!
More powerful than Little Eva’s “The Locomotion”!
Able to leap tall sofas with one hop, but chooses not to!
Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird! Aw crap, he just pooped in my eye!
Boss, boss! The plane! The plane!
well, you need a driving force, some kind of motivation to keep you going and make you into a twisted over-zealous vigiliate. Unless someone in your family dies because of a criminal, you’re probably out of luck there.
I was going to say that you could roll around in radioactive/nuclear/toxic waste to give you super powers, but it might just give you Lymphoma, like Adam West.
There’s a new book on this subject. Amazon search should find it.
But first, you need a secret hideout. One thing that I’ve learned from my attempt to become a superhero with Chicago’s notoriously tough building code: MAKE SURE THE INSPECTOR GIVES YOU THE OK ON EVERYTHING. You’ll also need to call the alderman to get some variances.
Trust me. You can defeat legions of the undead, stop Nazi clones and aliens who eat stars, but if the alderman and the Building Dept. are mad at you, your life will be hell.