Selling crack cocaine to under-privileged black youth, [janus retorts, their hands and feet moving fast over wheel, clutch, gas. the car lurches into reverse, narrowly missing a garbage can as janus screws a sharp backward turn, puts the car into forward motion again, the engine roaring underneath. the window frame probably bangs around thom's arm a little, inertia flailing through the contents of the vehicle-- it won't be the best angle for shooting superpowers at their attackers, but

well if mobsters can do it on high-speed chases in a comic book universe, surely a baby hero in a domino mask can too.]

I work in this neighborhood sometimes. [a paper bag blows across the windshield and janus wipers it away, seconds before a dumpster to their right abruptly explodes in a ripple of orange alien tech energy. rancid coke and sandwich wrappers shower over the side of the car, and janus scowls, stooping low.] You better be shooting to kill, hero.