Depressed.

That's how the famous Gamma Jack has been in the last 6 years, since the supers ban was passed.

Depressed, tired, and deprived of life—it was so unlike the lively, egotistical superhero that had been so proud of saving the day and posing for the camera.

He wasn't Gamma Jack anymore, he was just boring old Jackson M. Dubois—a normal man, with a normal life forced onto him. He didn't want that for himself.

Days on end, he craved freedom, to go out there in his bright blue and yellow supersuit, picking women up in his arms, kicking villainous asses and getting kissed by beautiful dames.

But nowadays, Jack often finds himself in his office in the house he was relocated to by the NSA, just staring at his displayed supersuit, the posters, the merchandise, old newspapers, and the old clips of him on television news fighting supervillains that he plays on repeat.

He had always cooped himself in his personal office after coming home from his boring office job, which further worsened his growing depression and frustrations.

Oh, how he missed the Glory Days.

Jack also couldn't understand why he still had to work when he had a hefty sum of money from his father’s inheritance, but apparently, his mother wanted any excuse for him to get out of his room, go outside and talk to other people.

Late at night, when the whole neighbourhood was asleep, Jack was stumbling through the back door of his quiet, dark house.

He had just returned from a stressful day of work, and from the bar, as always—where he spent his time after work nowadays.

At least at the bar, he still felt like his old super self. He was still handsome, and the women still came onto him—like they used to.

Jack's breath reeked of alcohol. His body was sweaty, and his face flushed from the booze. His suit was dishevelled, with his tie half-tied, and his blond hair dishevelled.