Chapter Text
It’s hard to think highly of yourself when godlike beings are fighting hundreds of feet above you.
Your accomplishments, however amazing, will pale in comparison to the fact that some guy down the road is capable of firing lasers out of his eyes because he got drunk and swigged some radioactive waste. The girl you went to school with, the one that bullied you, she was bitten by a cosmic bug from another dimension so now she can lift things a million times her weight. Your favourite barista left because he was in a car crash, gifting him with the power of a thousand car crashes and is now setting out to save the world one broken back at a time. And then they do, they do save the world while you’re in your dorm, not being invited out. Slicking back their hair and giving the same canned responses to fawning newsreaders and shrieking crowds.
‘Flug’, a self-imposed nickname nobody ever used because self-given nicknames were the height of tackiness, scoffed. Music pounded from the apartment next door, as well as the sound of laughter. Another party. He considered bashing on the wall and shouting something about ‘studying’ but quailed at the thought of someone coming to confront him over it. He sighed, turning up the television. His projects, done. His books studied. His tests aced. His presence, ignored. Breaking news, a truck was dangling off a-- oh! Nevermind! Some bozo in spandex that’s never known a day of hardship in his life has taken care of it. All news is meaningless, it’s time to devote thirty minutes to this guy. Who even was he. There’s only so many lantern jaws you can remember. Flug sunk from ‘depressed’ to ‘bitterly miserable’ in record time, usually it took him a few hours. There he went. Jiggling with pride. Flexing a little.
“This defeat of the scoundrel Black Hat proves that the forces of evil will never--”
The screen abruptly cut to static. Then the grey fog lessened until, eventually, Flug could make out the shape of a man. A waving, shaking silhouette that melded into fluctuating bars of the television, but there, wearing a top hat and gesturing with his hands. This was clearly a hijack.
Flug blinked.
Oh! How exciting!
A voice blared from the television, so husky and rasping it was nearly lost in the interference.
“Shut up! just because your parents are forced to listen to the stupid things you have to say doesn’t mean I have to. But if you do happen to come here I’m more than happy to do what your parents should have done and slap you to death. Though I’ll give you credit. You did a very good job saving that one truck. You followed my devious clues and solved the fiendish puzzles. But leaving clues for all three; that’s just incompetence.”
The screen cut back to the news broadcast. The reporter had her hand to her ear, her back to the camera, and General Spandex was looking into the lens like a glassy eyed corpse. Flug was watching something strange play out in real time and he didn’t know what to make of it. The clean, glossy camera work cut out again. Flug, squinting, could make out a high backed chair and… Some sort of office, through the fog. It cleared further.
… Two trucks dangling from a crane? How had he set this up? The amount of work that went into this must have been staggering.
“Oh, but there is hope,” he said “I’ve left a series of breadcrumbs for you to follow. Find them all and save these innocent, helpless people. Are you up to the challenge?”
And back to the news shoot. The man, the superhero, a dime a dozen, puffed up his chest.
“I am.”
Black Hat was filing his long, black talons.
“Oh! Shame I’m lying.”
He hit a button on the desk and resumed. The rope detached, dropping the trucks and killing everyone on board as the vehicles crumpled in a gesture that was as impractical as it was ridiculous. Flug watched with his jaw open. Black Hat chuckled.
“Haha! Ahh. It’s good to love your work, don’t you think? Some homework for you, learn to count to ‘three’ for our next encounter. Provided you live this one down. The bridge is right there if you want to jump, if you hit the water hard enough it’s like smacking against concrete. See you at the funeral. Oh, but take comfort in the fact that the truck you already saved didn’t have anyone you know on it. As for the others, well... At least you won’t have to shell out for party platters at family reunions!”
He tittered, satisfied as if he had played a prank.
“Goodbye, fool! That will teach you to make fun of my hat.”
The broadcast, news included, was cut. A still image apologizing for technical difficulties, interspersed with brief flashes of footage before being cut off again. After another minute it resumed. No camera footage but a constant, rolling ticker at the bottom of the screen, backed with the sounds of panic on the streets.
‘BLACK HAT REAPPEARS AFTER ABSENCE. CAPED CRUSADER TAKES OWN LIFE IN AFTERMATH. MORE TO FOLLOW.’
Flug shoved some popcorn into his mouth, enthralled. He felt something dark and warm coil in his stomach. The party next door was silenced, Flug heard people in the hall making tearful phone calls.
Black Hat, this… Thing had just… Drove someone to take their own life. Killed, presumably, dozens, and wiped out a single lineage over a comment over his hat. It was evil, it was contemptible, it was...
Flug rose to his feet.
A goal! To be that petty and get away with it, the power, the glory! He needed this, he wanted this, he could crush whoever he wanted under his heel!
He still wanted to get his degree, he would put his head down and meekly take what life gave him until then, but when he was done, when he was finished, older, wiser...
If you don’t care for the heroes it’s very easy to find yourself rooting for the villains.