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Genre: Dark Superhero Fiction
Inspiration: Snow covered trees just out the window

The high winds blew the masked man's cape across his field of vision. Perched in the branches, high above the rocky cliffs below him, The Shepherd knelt surveying the valley below. The light of the full moon accentuated his formidable, sculpted physique and he lamented that there was likely no one secretly appreciating it from a distance. Even if there were a lone wanderer who did happen to be looking up into the branches while walking alone, late at night in a remote wood, the steel gray camouflage of his suit was too perfect to be seen by a mere mortal. It would take a creature, likely devoid of a human soul, but capable of sensing heat signatures to even detect his presence; or perhaps some kind of diabolical mind capable of deploying a hyper-sensitive motion detection system. Regardless, the likelihood of being seen, let alone appreciated for all the hard work he put into his rippling physical construction was nil.
The flapping cape was becoming a frustration, but frankly, would have been a more pressing issue were in not for the nuisance that his Shepherd's Crook was causing him. It was large - over six feet in length, and very inconvenient for someone who favoured a perch in a tree to a pasture. He was beginning once again to second guess his cunning disguise, which was inevitably the result of a slow night. If only someone - perhaps the same hypothetical, diabolical madman with motion sensors - would attack, or even persecute the villagers below, the Shepherd would have to indulge his wandering mind. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Being the village blacksmith by trade, and immediately familiar to most villagers, he had chosen his secret identity based on his deep loathing of shepherds (a direct result of their refusal to shoe their animals, which seemed only natural to the blacksmith given their arduous grazing). It was either that, or capitalize on his hatred of jogging. Regardless of motivations, once he had settled on his identity the crook seemed a natural accoutrement, and was easy enough to fashion. Indeed, there was never a question of appropriateness for his disguise...