Bob heaved a sigh, the only sound other than the rhythmic clank of his boots on the metal floor. Gray metallic floors with gray metallic walls and, you guessed it, a gray metallic ceiling, lit by occasional incandescent bulbs. Bob swore those might be gray too, but he didn't know if that was the lights themselves or the tinted goggles of his helmet. Why he had to wear a helmet at all times was beyond his comprehension. What he did comprehend is that his nose itched something fierce.

Bob didn't know what he expected from this job, but this definitely wasn't it.

Bob winced as pain stabbed through his right foot. There was definitely a blister there. He started bending down to rub it before remembering the sheer thickness of the boots he wore. Heaving another sigh, he leaned against the wall, taking pressure off the foot as best he could. He grimaced as that caused a dull ache in his other foot. Would it kill the good doctor to give a five minute break on an eight hour patrol?

Giving the break might've killed the doctor, but taking that break anyways saved Bob's life.

Bob wasn't sure what happened next. A loud bang. A flash of light. Pain all over. A feeling of floating. More pain. Bob's heart raced, his stomach dropped. Sweat began to cover his brow. He heard nothing but a high-pitched ringing. He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. He lifted his trembling arms with what strength he could muster, it felt as if the air had turned to mud. He pushed his helmet with all his might. He gasped, desperately filling his lungs. He still saw nothing but black.

And then a red flash of light lit the world. Bob could see the floor, suspiciously close to his face. He could see twisted and jagged pieces of metal, torn wires and broken chunks of concrete. He grimaced as he tried to stand. One of those pieces of metal or chunks of concrete might be on top of him in fact. He tried twisting his neck to look up and get a better view, ignoring the stabbing pain in every muscle he attempted moving.

And saw Jenkins flying through the air.

Bob was no fragile snowflake. Working construction sites builds some muscle, his high school position as a linebacker built some more. But Jenkins, now that was a man. He stood head and shoulders above his coworkers with the heft to match. There was always some cocky newbie who made fun of Jenkins as fat. And Jenkins had fat, the kind of fat that protects the truly strong. Jenkins wasn't some showy body builder with rippling muscles that were naught but skin and bones. Jenkins was a wall of mass and muscle. The ideal form of applied strength. He could and often did lift full grown men with a single hand, as every cocky newbie experienced personally. The saying went Jenkins was the most gullible man in the world, because he trusted everyone as far as he could throw them.

That very Jenkins now flew through the air like a basketball lobbed from half-court at the buzzer. Bob winced as Jenkins slammed into the wall, grateful his hearing hadn't returned yet. Jenkins fell to the floor, a dented wall plate falling on top of him. Jenkins lay still.

Bob pulled his gaze away from Jenkins. He grit his teeth as he pivoted his body and pulled on his leg. He pulled himself free, his heart dropping as the rubble shifted. He closed his eyes, holding his breath. But he felt no new pressure or pain upon his back, and so he opened his eyes. His entire body trembled, his limbs felt like jelly and the air like water. But he grit his teeth and pushed his arm forward. He grabbed onto a metal pole, and pulled his body forward. And then another. And another. Dust fell on top of him, the very earth itself trembling. The ringing in his ears grew softer. He could hear faint sounds of shouts and gunshots and something like the air itself being ripped apart. He reached a larger piece of concrete, grabbing it with both hands and desperately pulling. His legs screamed in agony. He trembled, feeling as if the slightest breeze would knock him over. He pulled one leg up, kneeling upon it, then he ever so slowly unbent his knee until the second leg was under him as well. He inhaled and exhaled over and over, his lungs on fire, heart pounding in his chest, until the trembling slowed ever so slightly.

And then Bob ran.

So began the career of the greatest supervillain to have ever lived.