High up on the corner of the tallest skyscraper in Waggish City perches The Tanman. Cloaked in shades of grey, black, and a little neon blue, he remains perfectly still. His elogant cape follows the length of his body and goes back several feet as it blows behind him, like a flag reserved only for the demented and evil to see. The rain pours hard, like tiny needles trying to break his focus and distract him from the task at hand.
Lights litter the landscape as he peers over his domain. His city. His people. It all needs protection. This is a desperate time for Waggish City, and no one dares try and stop it. No one, save for him. Crime runs rampant, the corrupt flourish, and the plastic bottles get thrown away with all the other trash.
Until now...
The Tanman closes his eyes, briefly, preparing himself for the work that must be done. That will be done. He stands and turns. His foot steps on his majestic cape, causing him to slip.
Tanman: Oh God...
Off-balance, he stumbles over the ledge. The air howls around him as his descent continues to accelerate in speed. It's going to be a long night...