Today was one of those funny days.
In days past one man wouldn't have been enough. In ages past he would have run away and that, right there, would have been the end of it until the police arrived. Times change. People take things too far and social consciousness shifts. It happened in the museum. As the two departed with their threats and made their way deeper into the museum the man reached for his smart phone and then, he stopped. He put it back and limped his way over to the welcome counter and lifted a guide book from its slot. He flipped it open, skimming through the pages like a speed reader on crack.
The museum contained relics and costumes from the Age of Heroes. It was relics that he needed now. One relic, in particular, struck him as useful to his current situation. He finally found it and moved off in that direction as best he could, fighting through the pain. He took the opposite direction of the two women, ascended one extremely painful stairway and arrived at precisely what he was looking for. He looked at the display glass and removed a tactical pen from his pocket. With careful precision he struck the tip against the glass and the entire pane shattered. He reached in and with some struggle was able to pull free the costume he was after. He started to remember all of the youtube videos he could from the old days and hoped to hell the suit was working.
It was.

He lifted his head as the suit slid and locked into place automatically, its inter locking plates adjusting their positioning and sizing to accommodate his smaller form automatically. A HUD activated in front of his vision, calmly informing him of both the injury to his leg and the fact the suit was down to less than five percent power. Not long...maybe long enough to leave a mark. The man in the suit was Carson Delaware, he was a lonely man with no one who would mourn him when he died. He stood for a moment in the suit of a former hero. He knew, of course, that donning the suit of a hero who's named no longer mattered was not going to put him in a new league of fighting prowess, or erase the wound to his leg. He knew as he set out for the hallway with limping motions aided greatly by the suit's servo motors, that he was going to his dead.
He wondered as he descended the stairs if he was going to be remembered by the media, by anyone. Then he realized...it didn't matter. What mattered was that someone stood up to these people...even if they failed in the process. He came down to a landing and found himself standing face to face with none other than Dragonfang. He tightened his hands into fists and allowed the suit to inject a combination of old stims and pain killers. It wouldn't prevent his leg from being crippled but it would help him past the pain. He tried to adjust his youtube memory to account for the fact that one of his legs was, more or less, dead weight.
"The Age of Peace is over." He said, his voice turned into a low rumbling growl by the suit.
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The two women have their own issues soon after leaving. A girl, no older than sixteen, stands between them and their next target. She has nothing on her of any consequence save for a baseball she tosses between her hands. Her eyes glow a faint yellow and she smiles at them...though the smile is a facade. In fact she is terrified...terrified but unwilling to let any further harm come to her friends and the people in the museum. It may have been a good time to be bad...but that didn't mean there were no people left to stand up for the innocent. Maybe people had forgotten how to be heroes...but maybe it was buried somewhere in the human genome. Maybe...
Maybe you never really forgot, maybe it only went dormant for a time, until it was needed...like now. She threw the ball with the expert ability of a high level baseball player. The ball accelerated, shattering the speed of sound in the blink of an eye. The sonic boom shattered glass all around them as the ball hurtled towards Athena, the girl having chosen her target based upon who looked more intimidating. The ball accelerated...and accelerated. The material of the outer covering caught fire somewhere near the mid point of its flight. If it struck, it would do so with explosive force kinetic force strong enough to break bones and pulp internal organs. The ball itself would be unlikely to survive the experience of striking, well, anything.