Spend your nights in a handmade Iron Man suit (mostly constructed of egg cartons and yarn), prowling the dangerous streets of suburbia for evil-doers. When you find one (like that stupid Steve Wrigley, who keeps spray-painting "THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED" on everyone's garages), you take swift and righteous action (usually by shouting "QUIT IT, STEVE WRIGLEY! YOUR MOM IS THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS! TOUCH MY GARAGE AND I'LL PUT YOU IN A WORLD OF HURT, SON!") Your personal mantra: "You're cruisin' for a bruisin', Wrigley."
Your special skills: Delivering justice to the masses, quoting Robert Downey Jr., punching through pieces of tissue paper with your bare hands, shouting loudly from a safe distance.
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