It was another typical morning on London's famous underground transportation system. This was officially (and unimaginatively) called The London Underground, but was known to the public as the tube. It was typical, because yet again the Northern Line was playing havoc with commuters' best intentions by switching train routes at the last minute, juggling timetables and throwing in the occasional signal failure or train breakdown.
A soon-to-be Author took an empty seat near the rear of the train and settled back, counting the stops to where he changed trains. The time was 9:40am as the 9:20 tube drew in at Clapham Common station. "Dammit," thought the nascent author, "late again." He flipped open his Newton and started idly jotting down notes..

A few minutes later the train pulled in at Kennington station. Mutt and Jeff, two 'jack of all trades' handymen, looked up from their papers as the driver's voice came over the intercom. "Sorry ladies and gents, but due to a mechanical fault this train will be delayed for a few minutes."
A collective sigh of resignation went up in the carriage. Mutt went back to the sports pages, Jeff shifted his toolbag slightly, some people glanced at their watches, and everyone settled down to wait. After a moment some muffled thumps came from the front of the train. Two minutes later the driver cleared his throat and said "Is there a carpenter on the train, or someone with a hammer in their bag?" A ripple of amusement passed through the carriage, followed closely by a general uneasiness as people began to wonder just what was wrong with their train. Mutt and Jeff lowered their papers and looked at each other.
"You go," said Mutt in a low voice. "Why me? Why not you?" muttered Jeff. A few nearby passengers looked over curiously, and the two handymen realised that there was no easy way out of the situation. With a sigh they both stood up, made their way out of the train, and down to the front of the platform. Back in the carriage there was a brief pause, then the two nearest passengers triumphantly grabbed the just vacated seats.

After a few more minutes and some impressive sounding thumps from the front of the train a young man, dressed in black jeans and a t-shirt and carrying a laptop-sized shoulder bag, got tired of waiting, stood up from his seat and started to leave the train. Unfortunately for him the doors chose that moment to close, catching him as he stepped out. He struggled for a few seconds with one arm and leg trapped until the doors opened again - just long enough for him to fall out onto the platform and send a middle aged businessman flying. As he got to his feet the doors closed again and the train moved out of the station.

The young man decided to see if he had any better luck on the buses, and left the tube station. He sighed as he looked at the bus-free street. Why did he always take the wrong turning, pick the bad fruit at the grocers, and generally not see things coming? While these thoughts passed through his mind he turned a corner and walked straight into a window cleaner's ladder. He had just enough time to say "Whups!" and look up, then a bucket of soapy water landed - upside down, of course - on his head, soaking both him and his bag.
Dazed and drenched, the young man staggered back a few paces, tripped over a "Caution, Men at Work" sign, and disappeared into a hole just dug by the local electricity board. His wet body broke though some high power cables, there was an enormous blue-white flash, the smell of ozone filled the air, and some nearby traffic lights went dark.

"Ere, mate! You alright?" The window cleaner peered over the edge of the hole, trying to see into the smoke-filled darkness. He made out a faint groan, followed slowly by the young man as he got to his feet. The soggy, slightly fried man looked up at the window cleaner for a minute, letting his eyes focus. After a moment his eyes opened wide, and he shouted "Look out!" A brief flurry of sparks flashed and went before they were noticed, and the young man was at the top of the hole and pulling the bemused window cleaner away from the edge. "'Ow'd you do that?" the window cleaner asked, then again, "Hey, you alright mate?" The young man was staring in confusion at the edge of the hole... he was sure he'd seen... And then, without warning, the spot where the window cleaner had been standing gave way and slid out of sight. There, he thought, that was what he saw. But... how had he seen it before it had happened? And how had he managed to get out of the hole so fast?

HOW DID HE GET OUT?

DOESN'T HE HAVE A NAME? (C'mon, we haven't been properly introduced yet.)

AND WHAT ABOUT THOSE SPARKS?

AND MUTT AND JEFF, FOR THAT MATTER?

CAN THE AUTHOR CALL HIMSELF AN AUTHOR NOW?

AND WILL HE EVER GET TO THE STATION ON TIME?

AND WHY DOES HE USE A NEWTON? (Hey, dead technology fan club!)

You know, if the answers will ever be revealed, it'll be... on Superguy!