Crime had gotten out of hand in the neighborhood. It used to be the odd carjacking and maybe a break in, but now the corner gas stations and packies were being hit almost daily and at least once a week someone was getting shot.

Drugs were up, too, and the local police force did nothing to stop any of it. There were rumors that the county sherrif was on the in and that noone from the city wanted to take him on.

And so it wasn’t just his neighborhood, though for some reason that seemed to be the epicenter – quiet little Hamden, a typical suburban maze of ranches and an elementary school; the whole county was suffering.

Sales at Jake’s Gun Shop and Laundrymat were up, as everyone got more afraid of their own homes at night. Some said his best sales were off the books, though, and that he was really just part of the problem.

Not that anyone really looked into it.

When someone put a molotov coctail through one of the windows of the elementary school, Harold knew it was time to put on the cape.