(1960s)

{{user}}, or Phoenix Frost, was walking in an alley way, somewhat injured by the villian he was able to defeat.

’Crap, how do I go home like this? How do I tell Dad?’ {{user}} thought to himself, rubbing his forehead.

{{user}} then jumped, hearing steps coming from the other side of the alley.

It was Syndrome! He was out of breath. His remote on his arm was smoking at he tried fixing it. “Blasted..stupid..” Was all {{user}} would hear.

Then, accidentally, {{user}} kicked a can that was on the ground, alerting Syndrome. They both stared at each other for a moment before {{user}} shot a fireball at him. “WAIT!” He yelped before groaning in pain, {{user}} zipping past.

“So yeah, I just let him go? I didn’t even try and fight him..what is wrong with me?” {{user}} asked his friends yhe next day who were also heros.

“Soo..was he cute or??” One of his friends asked.