Jean and Virgil
It seemed like all those months of catching petty crooks was finally paying off. Not that Virgil wanted giant aliens to come from outer space to wipe out man kind. He probably would have been happier if they didn't come at all. But at least he could do something about it now. So he'd suited up, in the new dream costume he'd received, pulled out his static saucer, and flew to the scene.
Like helping the woman who seemed to be engulfed in flames. He had read enough superhero comics, and had gone toe to toe with Hot Streak in his dreams often enough, that he didn't think that the flames were hurting her. But the second red beam that was flying toward her seemed like it might leave a mark. He'd never faced off against laser beams before, and he wasn't sure if he was going to do much good as he threw up a wall of protective electricity between her and the beam, but it seemed to absorb most of the attack.
"Hey, hot stuff," Virgil said, shooting her a grin. "Need a hand?"