Faster than a crashing newscast, more powerful than an intern’s optimism, able to stretch a single fender bender into thirty seconds of forgettable television. Look! Over there! It’s … it’s … some poor camera dude struggling to stay awake. But take no pity on this mere mortal, for he’s folded time on a daily basis, made sitting Presidents sweat and poked a thousand holes in the sky. We won’t even talk about all the pretty people he’s rescued.

Posing as Rex, a mild-mannered cameraman, our hero plods through his day without the benefit of tights and a cape (though his utility belt would make Aqua-Man sink). Instead, he fights for truth, justice and a decent lunch — all while taken for a catatonic commoner. But don’t fall for all the yawning. Beneath the surface, this unlikely everyman is bristling with super-kinetic energy, knowing at any time his Metropolis could fall victim to plague, pestilence or a six-part series on airport bathrooms that no one this side of Krypton wants to watch.  

So take heed, miscreants! Should you be unlucky enough to stumble across this protector of the electorate, don’t even nod in his direction. Otherwise, he’ll pounce like a half-mad jungle cat, use his near X-ray vision to see your weakness and cast its reflection to the heavens and beyond. Before you know it, you’ll be trapped in a satellite shot, explaining your own secret identity to the likes of Anderson Cooper.  

Nobody wants that. We’d rather watch the airport bathroom thingie.

Faster than a crashing newscast, more powerful than an intern’s optimism, able to stretch a single fender bender into thirty seconds of forgettable television. Look! Over there! It’s … it’s … some poor camera dude struggling to stay awake. But take no pity on this mere mortal, for he’s folded time on a daily basis, made sitting Presidents sweat and poked a thousand holes in the sky. We won’t even talk about all the pretty people he’s rescued.

Posing as Rex, a mild-mannered cameraman, our hero plods through his day without the benefit of tights and a cape (though his utility belt would make Aqua-Man sink). Instead, he fights for truth, justice and a decent lunch — all while taken for a catatonic commoner. But don’t fall for all the yawning. Beneath the surface, this unlikely everyman is bristling with super-kinetic energy, knowing at any time his Metropolis could fall victim to plague, pestilence or a six-part series on airport bathrooms that no one this side of Krypton wants to watch.  

So take heed, miscreants! Should you be unlucky enough to stumble across this protector of the electorate, don’t even nod in his direction. Otherwise, he’ll pounce like a half-mad jungle cat, use his near X-ray vision to see your weakness and cast its reflection to the heavens and beyond. Before you know it, you’ll be trapped in a satellite shot, explaining your own secret identity to the likes of Anderson Cooper.  

Nobody wants that. We’d rather watch the airport bathroom thingie.