"You were born to lead this team. Maybe not now. But soon."

Moonlight streamed in through a crack in the blinds of a hotel room window, gently caressing the face of a sleeping young man. The moon's ministrations were soon interrupted, however, by the sudden blaring of an alarm clock. The man rolled over in his bed, hand flailing desperately to end the raucous noise which pierced his eardrums. After a few seconds of disoriented flopping, the young man finally hit the snooze button, once more sending his room into blessed silence.

The young man sat up, half awake, and recalled his dream. Most specifically, the last thing he heard before he was ripped from his mind.

"Man, how am I supposed to lead a team I'm not even on anymore?" the young man whined, though there was a slight undertone of sorrow to his complaining. Remembering those good old days hurt, even more so when he came back to reality and realized just why those times were long gone.

With a sigh, the man pushed himself to his feet, yawning loudly and scratching his chest. He went about the room, grabbing clothes and toiletries from various places, then walked into the bathroom to begin his daily routine.

About a half hour later, the man emerged from the white-tiled bathroom, along with a billowing cloud of steam. He wore a simple white t-shirt and a pair of slim-fitting black sweatpants. A towel lay on his shoulder, protecting his shirt from the water dripping off his still-wet hair. He breathed in the colder air outside the steam-filled room, and heaved a sigh of relief.

The man walked towards his bed, dropping to his knees on the carpeted floor and reaching under the frame. He pulled out a duffel bag, which contained pieces of black and gray armor. It took him a few minutes to suit up, buckling and clasping and clicking things into place. Afterwards, the man simply stood there for a moment, flexing this way and that to get a true feel for the new costume. Satisfied that the material wouldn't inhibit anything other than outside threats, he pasted a white-lensed domino mask to his eyes, then pulled a helmet on over his slightly damp hair.

Poking the center on his metal belt buckle, which sunk in slightly at the touch, the suit whirred to life, lights flashing. Tapping his gray right gauntlet, the man was satisfied with the holographic screen which popped up, performing a few test procedures to ensure everything was running correctly. Finally, he spoke out loud, his voice much deeper, and noticeably metallic, due to the voice-changer in his helmet. No such thing as too prepared, after all. Said helmet also hid the wide grin, which threatened to split the young man's face right in half, behind an intimidating white skull.

"Red X is ready for patrol."