Criminals? They prefer the dark places. So I shall become a thing of bronze and light!

When I sat down in the comfy chair in my father's study, one thing was clear to me: I didn't understand that common man. Who were they? How did they live? What kind of lamps did they like? After all, I was rich enough to travel the world for a decade with no real means of support, and it's not like a billionaire's son ever needs to apply for a job, right?

And yet, my dream was to walk among them, lead them, tell them what to do and how to live. To do that, I'd need to understand them, to BE them, to wrap my mind around that cowardly lot who never once spent an afternoon eating cucumber sandwiches while waiting for the polo game to conclude.

And that's when the Bronze Torchiere lamp came flying through the window.

At first, I was upset. I mean, it was a stained glass window, after all, that thing cost big bucks. But then it hit me: this wasn't some cheap piece of crap. This was a SIGN. This was a GIFT. This was THE SORT OF LAMP A CLASSY GUY LIKE ME WOULD LOVE TO HAVE IN HIS HOUSE! And yet, the price tag said the lamp was easily affordable by people who didn't inherit a trust fund large enough to buy sixty or seventy custom sportscar/tanks a year.

I cradled that lamp like a newborn babe (one of those, incidentally, would soon be my partner!) and looked into the sky. "FATHER!" I swore. "I SHALL BECOME A LAMP!"

But I didn't really. What, become a lamp? That would be crazy! Nobody could do that! I just dressed as a lamp and beat up criminals. Much, much, much saner.

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