Daylight had run its course, leaving behind it the hopes and vibrancy of the daytime; the hustle and bustle gave way to the quiet still of the evening. A few minutes before midnight and all seemed well. However, such was always the case…right before the scum of the underworld reared their ugly heads.

In a random alley, outside of an electronics store…

”Move it, you two; load the truck and let’s get outta here, before some caped do-gooder shows up.” Of the ski-mask wearing men that were there, one barked orders while the rest followed suit, loading stolen wears into the back of a shoddy-looking van that was parked in the alley. The store’s owner was nowhere to be found, himself having left the shop for the night hours ago and was safely sleeping in his bed, unaware his shop-all he had in this world-was being picked clean by a gang of ruthless thieves.

And even if he did, it was unlikely the elderly man would have been able to do anything about it.

Nearly done loading their haul, the ringleader turns to locate another of his mates he hadn’t noticed for a few minutes. ”Hey…anybody seen Jonesy?” At this request, everyone began looking around, confirming the man’s absence. Irritated, he turns to another man besides him. ”Make sure they finish; I’m going to find Jonesy.” He’d leave the others, and return to the store’s now bare interior to find his missing mate.

What he found was more than he bargained for.

There, lying beside the counter, slumped over and utterly unconscious…was the missing Jonesy. ”What the…?!” He hardly had time to reach for his weapon, when a sudden gust of wind shot past him. His head snapped back as he was tossed bodily out the very door he entered into, surprising the band of thieves outside as his body slammed hard against the alley wall. He was out like a light. The following moments a series of windstorms, accompanied by something dashing around reduced the small militia of armed men into a scattered pile of half-or fully!-unconscious goons.

Afterwards, across the street a young African-American male removes a pair of shades from his face as he ambles down the block towards the corner store. He was jonsing for a Redbull! ”Those dudes were wack!” He whispered to himself as he stroll along, calmly removing his phone as he calls the local police to alert them to the collection of sleeping crooks in the alley outside the store. He’d end the call just as he opened the store’s front door and entered.

He could see the Redbull’s from here!

”Yeeeaaa, man!” He did a stupid dance towards them, before he’d grab two of the mega-sized ones and gave the guy a $20 to pay for it before he exited the store; the red and blue of the flashing lights alerted him to the cops approach. A few minutes later, and the scene was one of confused crooks being hauled off to pay for their crimes. Quentin simply sat across the way, watching as if he were just another concerned citizen. Which he was…

One able to do Mach two.

He scoffed as one of the goons went on about a ‘Sienna’ blur; the police paid no mind, as this was not at all out of the ordinary for them. In fact, they knew what the crooks were going on about, even if they pretended they didn’t. ”It’s ‘Sienna Streak'!” He whispered to himself, frustrated. Nothing he hated more than being misrepresented. Turning the corner, a low -schoom!- and he was on his way.

Avengers Assemble was on in two minutes!