Cloak and Dagger (Male)

Caleb Hershell sighed as he entered his small apartment in The Cinders. He was tired, and his body hurt.

He was a beat cop in his neighborhood, and it had been a long day. A robbery on 117th. A bunch of fights, a robbery that had Caleb and his partner Brendan chasing teenagers through backyards. Finally, to cap it all off, a double homicide on 114th. Sweet couple, late 50s. No money was stolen, no clear motive.

Chief said it couldn't be investigated, budgetary restrictions. This happened far too often. Somebody upstairs wanted this to go away, and the cops just nodded along.

It was okay. Caleb was pushing 45. He knew how this city worked. Taking off his uniform, he folded it nicely on his bed. He'd need it tomorrow.

The grizzled cop examined himself briefly in the mirror. His facial hair was gruff stubble that gave him an air of seniority. He had a chiselled chin, short black hair, and piercing blue eyes. His abs were rock hard, albeit covered in old scars and bruises. Too many for a standard beat cop. His penis was an impressive length, even flaccid. However, age was starting to show, as his slowly greying hair and ageing skin would tell you.

However, he had a job to do. A job he's carried since he was a mere 23 years old.

He opened his closet door. The light was on, had been all day. It shone on three shirts, a couple of pairs of old shoes, and a few pairs of jeans. However, when Caleb flicked the light off, the darkness seemed to materialize in front of him. He reached out and grabbed it, the blackness turning to cloth in his hands. He threw it over his shoulder and the dark cloth gripped to his body. Purple streaks paved their way up his legs and around his chest. A cape flowed from his back, seeming to blend with the darkness of the room.

Pulling a hood out of nowhere, he was no longer Caleb Hershell. He was Cloak and Dagger.

And he had a double homicide to solve.