Tumblr Writing prompts: Superheroes

by WriterBen01

Summary:

Collection of Tumblr prompt responses with superhero themes. Each chapter is a stand-alone. Themes of social justice, queer heroes and villains, and the creation of villains through the mistreatment of heroes.
1. Superhero with the power of construction, turned villain by zoning laws.
2. Villain Spiderman: With great power comes great responsibility. And it is about time those with power take some fucking responsibility.
3. Immortal superhero becoming a monster through queer grief.
4. Comedy Relief Nemesis with hidden depths of power
5. Telepathic villain feels bad about mental wreck queer teenage hero
6. Eldritch horror takes vengence of the villains who ruined their hero polycule
7. Troubled hero snaps after power dampening collar is stolen
8. Creature without empathy builds its own and stands up against creator

Chapter 1: Super hero builder

Summary:

You’re the most recognised and internationally praised superhero, but you don’t fight any crime. Instead, you use your powers over stone and metal to repair the damage caused by the catastrophic fights other heroes get into. (prompt)

I continued the prompt from here by fakecrfan, who described a hero that became a villain because he was not allowed to use his powers for charity.

You build an underground city that is always moving. They cannot send air raids to destroy your creations when there are hundreds of feet of strengthened dirt above your head. They cannot send in the diggers when you are gone before they reach you.

Not all of the villains wanted to join you. Some went into the wild and served as a distraction. Some were too psychotic and sadistic and you had to exclude them. But most were villains only in name. They went against the system and refused to limit their powers to only those able to afford it.

Many enhancers are on your team. A woman who can leave behind glowing orbs has created an eco-friendly lighting system. She enchants a ceiling in the greeneries so you can grow food. A boy with a warping power creates a water source. A pair of twin girls tap into information systems and set up a headquarters with internet.

And then you strike. Your first raids are petty. You get in range of the richest neighbourhoods and collapse all the mansions. You bring down the imperialist statues they never let you take down and replace them for idols of revolutionaries. You tear down stadiums and replace them with the rich buildings that had been destroyed to make room. You remove border walls and fences and any other barrier meant to keep people out.

Eventually you become smarter about it. You sabotage the energy and water meters in utility closets of the poorest neighbourhoods in ways that won’t be apparent for decades. You build shelters that are hidden in abandoned factories with secret trails that will lead those in need to them. You mess with the foundation of buildings in a way that it will seem like accidents.

You gather more villains and your base of operation grows. There are three other people with material manipulating powers now and it becomes easier to move everything. To make it larger. That is why you decide to let more people in. Most homeless people want shelter and a little help. But a lot of them want out of the system completely. They want to help fight.

You provide them with a home underneath the earth. You give them food and water. And these people that were called failures by capitalistic institutions, they thrive. They find their talents. They become activists, or tradesmen, or scholars, or caregivers. You tell them your plans and they help you come up with better ones.

There are legends of you on the internet. It is said that you are a fey creature, appearing to those that wish for you. It is true in a way. There are algorithms working constantly, scouring the internet for the cities that need the most help. Travel has become easier for you over the years, hooking up entire districts to the water system in Southern Africa one day and demolishing skyscrapers during an alien attack on New York the next.

Progress is slow, but you are making the world a better place.

When the superheroes find you this time, it is harder for them to capture you. You have had lessons in fighting and you are able to use the environment to help you. There are other villains that protect you and together you can put up a fight. Just not one that is good enough.

They fit you with an oxygen mask and then fly you into space. They put you on a space craft prison and think that will be the end of you.

They undersestimate the movement that you have created. A movement that is now unable to live peacefully underneath the earth and will instead have to topple the governments on land so they can keep their freedom. You watch out of a window and see the earth. You can see the fighting. And eventually you see the superhero that captured you return, tears on her eyes and falling to her knees, begging your forgiveness.

The war is not over. Many of those you had hidden have died as martyrs, while the superheroes begged their leaders to settle. The other heroes had to learn what you had long ago.

She brings you back. To half the world, you are the greatest supervillain and you have come to bring the apocalypse. To the other half, you are the greatest superhero and you have come with salvation. You are both and you are neither.

All you know is that you wanted to live in peace and they were the ones who screwed everything up. They are the reason most of your new friends are gone. You never intended to be anything but a builder, until they started the fight. What will happen next, is on them.

Chapter 2: Villain Spiderman

Summary:

A spider bite. A fleeing robber. A murdered uncle. But as the murderer lies dead at his feet, Peter Parker realizes that if people do not share responsibility for their actions, he has no reason to share his power. And so begins the story of New York’s greatest supervillain; Spider-Man. (prompt)

With great power comes great responsibility. That was the lesson Peter had been taught from his uncle’s death.

With great power comes great responsibility. And it was about time those with power took some fucking responsibility.

Peter had anger towards the burglar that had robbed Uncle Ben of his life. But he also had anger at the landlord that had evicted Tom and his twin girls for missing a single payment. Society would have told Tom to be a good homeless person and let his life be destroyed. To take responsibility and work his way up. Tom was powerless and had resorted to petty burglaries, which had eventually led to Uncle Ben’s death. Was that the fault of the desperate soul forced into a desperate situation, or the fault of the soulless landlord trying to maximise his profits?

Donald was the owner of twenty large buildings. He had raised rent prices by obscene amounts and ruthlessly evicted anyone unable to pay. He was addicted to cocaine and stock markets, and of gathering more money than he knew what to do with. He had signed copies of Ayn Rand’s books on his shelves. The monstrosities had a place of honour.

Seeing Tom being sent to jail for murder while his girls cried for him had done little to cool Peter’s anger. It had been so much better to dangle Donald from a rooftop by Peter’s silky threads and make him fear for his life while Peter crawled through his office. He pocketed anything of worth and searched for enough blackmail material to destroy the bastard. He forced Donald to agree to lower his rent to barely cover costs. And Peter reminded him he would be back if Donald stepped one inch out of line.

Spiderman became known as the bug on the wall. It seemed like he could hear anything. Other landlords learned to fear him and knew they had to treat their tenants well. They needed reminding regularly, but their friendly neighbourhood Spiderman was kind enough to provide those lessons for only moderate fees.

The police hated him. Politicians wanted him gone. But at the same time Spiderman had his own gang of followers. Drug dealers and prostitutes. Disabled veterans and disillusioned children. Many people needed Spiderman’s help and he was more than willing to provide. He set up support in abandoned buildings and built an army. His little spiders crawled through the city and reported to him anything that sounded out of place.

That is how he was introduced to a crying widow. Her wife had died working in a warehouse from heat stroke. She had been forced to work double shifts and still lived paycheck to paycheck. While the business owner was becoming one of the wealthiest people in the city, his workers were exploited. Jeffrey feasted on golden grapes while his workers had to beg for water.

Something in Peter snapped. Blackmail was not good enough for him. This time he needed to send a message.

The message was in blood. The message was framed over Jeffrey’s corpse. The message was left for Jeffrey’s successor to find and keep in mind. The message was: ‘Pay a living wage if you want to live’.

Part of Peter regretted the action. Part of him worried that his gang might turn away from him. Instead his group of henchmen doubled in size.

Republicans were working on a bill to lower the minimum wage, shouting to their voters that they had been forced to because of Spiderman. A bill that was designed to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. During the vote, Spiderman took the leader with his web and ran to the top of the building. He kept yelling for Spiderman to let him go. And so Spiderman did.

The proposed bill, drenched in blood, did not pass.

Spiderman looked over his city. He doubted his uncle had ever thought Peter would take responsibility of the world in this way. Uncle Ben would never have approved. But the problem with this world was that it did not leave room for good men like Uncle Ben. Great Power was supposed to come with great responsibility. And as long as it didn’t come by itself, Peter would be its harbinger.

It was their fault that Peter had become this Spiderman. They had left the people with no more food to eat, so they had to eat the rich.

And it was time to feast.

Chapter 3: The superhero who cannot die

Summary:

Every time you die, your power brings you back a bit stronger. As you slowly become less and less human, the other heroes become more wary of you. Today, for the first time, you were mistakenly attacked as a monster…and no one is coming to help. (prompt)

It started, as most things do, with love.

My boyfriend was going to be shot and I stepped in line of the bullet with a speed I had not known I had possessed. It felt supernatural, but viewing the security camera images later revealed I was not inhumanly fast. I just started moving when I realised the bank robber would pull the trigger. And I let my heart take the bullet.

I often watch back that footage. It was the loss of my heart that started everything. I like to think that it had not regrown when I rose again, still covered in my own blood, unhinged my jaw like a snake and then swallowed the bandit whole. I did not feel remorse then and I did not feel guilt in the weeks after. The story of my resurrection went viral and my boyfriend cuddled up next to me every night, so happy we had gotten a second chance.

And then the bandit’s friends stabbed me in an alleyway as retaliation.

My hands turned into paws, with claws as long as daggers. They were gone when I took breath again. Their mistake was coming for me a second time, thinking they could finish the job. I cut them up in so many pieces that not even batman could solve the jigsaw puzzle that had become their bodies.

My boyfriend told me to get a suit made and I did. I went to the big fights and I tried to make a difference. I think I did. My powers were best used to hurt people. My resurrection made me a shield to protect others. But I had no way to carry people to safety. That would be the job of others heroes. My job was to get between the victim and the monster. To take the monster down, or die trying.

Each great battle came with a boost of power and a loss of what made me look human. My eyes had become white and could see through anything. My skin was scaled like a dragon. I no longer breathed and an X-ray told me that my body’s lungs had been replaced with sacks of poison to fuel the fangs in my mouth.

The other heroes once pitied me. I turned that pity into respect with each battle won. The great battles all took from me, but they were few and far between. Most battles I went through without coming to harm, taking down the enemy before it came to that. And, to be fair, in most battles the other superheroes had a chance to cover my back. My power did not lend itself to self-preservation, and I learned I could count on them to get me out of a rough spot. Just like they could count on me.

My boyfriend became my husband. We had a small ceremony where the ring did not fit my finger because a recent power-up to my hands had made them larger again. My husband laughed it off and had a necklace made so I could wear the ring around my neck. It was not all bad. My power-up had given me the ability to fly and we joined the mile high club on our honeymoon too far up for anyone to see us.

All things were good. Until they were not.

A hero died and I was blamed for not protecting him well enough. And I can admit, I had made somewhat of a mistake. I had thought the hero capable of protecting himself. I had gone after the enemy to give the fatal blow, not realising how much the hero had needed my help. They all turned on me instantly. None of them came out to say it, but they let their feelings known. They talked to the media and ‘just asked questions’.

The most common one: if I ever turned, how would they be able to kill the unkillable?

Journalists stopped using the cartoon interpretations of my face, instead going for pictures taking in the middle of battle when I was at my most animalistic. They kept repeating how grateful they had been for all that I had done for them, but. But I never had formal training. But I had too much strength to control now. But it was hard to trust me now.

But. But. But.

There were more battles, and I could no longer trust on the heroes to save me. I died more often, even against lesser threats, while they made excuses that sounded believable. Maybe they even believed it. But more and more, it felt like I was alone.

I blame them for what happened next.

A group of extremist civilians, pumped up on months of scare tactics and calling themselves Absolutionists, acquired a dirty bomb and attempted to take my life. They had hoped the radiation would be enough to kill me permanently. But no. After just a few seconds I was resurrected and I was fine. My neighbourhood was not.

My husband was not.

The story, as most do, turned from love to vengeance.

I do not remember the days that followed. I know that I died hundreds of times. I know that I went after the Absolutionists and dismantled their terrorist organisation one cell at a time. They were often embedded deep in organised crime rings, especially when they realised they needed protection from me. They hired the world’s best assassins, the world’s strongest bodyguards. They rose up walls that not even I could breach.

And I threw myself against them until I could.

I do not remember my frenzy. But I remember when it was done. I stood in the ocean, washing off blood. The sun was rising and it felt so unfair that there could still be beauty in this world without my husband in it.

I remember someone seeing me and screaming. I tried to calm them, but somewhere along the line I had lost my voice.

They ran and were replaced with a young hero, shouting nonsense at me. I meant him no harm and just needed to be left alone. The hero would recognise me soon and be on his way.

Except he did not recognise me. Or if he did, it made no difference to him. He came at me with everything he had. Some kind of superstrength power that actually unbalanced me when he threw the first punch.

I growled at him. I took his punches and did not strike back. Yet that just made him boast how he was so good at this ‘the monster’ was not even given a chance to counter. I let my frustrations be known, yet the hero did not stop. I harmlessly swatted him away and he did not stop.

The media was coming now, and not much later a group of super heroes. People I had worked with for decades. Yet they looked at what was happening and stood still. My super hearing picked up on one of them giving an interview and promising to step in if the young hero needed help. But the boy was doing so well and this would be a good start for him.

I could not believe it. I saw their stares. They recognised me. And they were not speaking up.

Well, if it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight they were going to get one. Enjoy the spectacle.

It was a hero versus monster. Each one ready to take down the other or die trying.

Too bad for him that I’ll never die.

Chapter 4: The Comedy Relief Nemesis

Summary:

Your supervillain nemesis is little more than goofy comedy relief, always coming up with clunky machines and insane, nonsensical schemes. When a new dangerous villain appeared, your nemesis utterly destroyed them, and then continued on like nothing happened. (prompt)

My mom did not think I would make a good hero.

She used to take me on her lap and tell stories about her days fighting crime together with her brothers and parents. Her powers of elasticity had made her strong and flexible. My father had super speed. They had high hopes for their children.

My older brother had delivered on those hopes. He had a sort of elastic body like mom, but had much more control of his shape. She had to be stretched by some kind of outside force, but he simply chose to stretch his limbs.

My older sister had been just as amazing. A speedster like dad, but with mom’s indestructibility. She could run into a wall at supersonic speeds and not even get a single bruise as she flopped away like a rubber doll. My father was very impressed, since it was a speeding accident that had eventually forced him to retire.

And then there was me. For a long time, my parents thought I did not have any powers at all. They did not realise how much of their powers were hidden. When dad runs, he has to speed up his thinking to keep up with his body. When mom was flat as a pancake, she still had to be able to think. That’s what I got. The superhero brain. Fast and flexible.

So when mom found out, she did not think I would make a good hero.

I became one anyway.

And whether I’m a good one… that’s not really up to me to say.

The agency would not assign me a city. They refused to give me a town or village. Mom kept telling me to become an Academic instead. She refused to put in a good word for me. She even refused to help dress me. I had to make my own costume, and find my own spot. I settled in the small city of Fairbanks in Alaska. They were grateful to finally have a hero. Nobody besides the locals took me seriously. And even the locals were willing to send me back first chance a real hero presented themselves.

And the only thing more ridiculous than me was my self-appointed nemesis.

My brother had Razer, a ten feet lizard with knives built onto every limb, who could cut through concrete as easily as butter. My sister had Freeze, an alien wizard that could slow down time and had on multiple occasions threatened to destroy the whole world.

I had Jeze-Jelly-Belly. She had a mutation superpower that made her look like an anthromorphic Alaskan Malamute, and gave her the ability to eat and regurgitate whatever she considered food.

I still remember my first run-in with her. I had been a nervous wreck, fiddling with my white gloves. The local sheriff was next to me and trying to reassure me, but it was going to be my first ever fight. He assured me there was no better first fight than with Jeze-Jelly-Belly. I did not believe him.

She was behind the dumpster of Wendy’s, with a machine that tipped the garbage container into a funnel that went directly into her mouth. We shouted to get her attention, but she wouldn’t listen. And so I borrowed the sheriff’s gun and shot at one of the machine’s weak pillow blocks. It came apart and made the dumpster land a few inches from her face.

“That almost hit me!”

“I knew it wouldn’t.” I said. “Next time don’t ignore us if you want to be saved the fright.”

She got angry and we fought. Her punches were powerful and her kicks punishing. But I had enough martial arts training that I could keep up. For some reason she kept talking about her machine and how much effort it had taken her to put it together. The way she said it, I could not resist pointing out every flaw in the design using my honorary doctorate in engineering.

“I’ll show you what it can do!” She wrapped her mouth around some of the metal and bit straight through, battery acid dripping from her mouth when she looked to me.

“You’re insane.”

She just chewed, and then spit at me. To my surprise, it was a drone that had come out of her mouth, and it was hurtling metal towards me. I reached for my utility belt and took out a knife. For such a fragile machine, I could easily throw it in a vulnerable spot to drop it. It crashed right in front of me.

While I had been distracted, the villain had kept going. She bit metal and spat it at her limbs, dressing herself in armour. She was coming for me again, but this time she was a lot slower. It was almost easy to dance around her and avoid her attacks. And soon she was tiring from her emotional display. She overextended, left an opening, and I managed to jab a baton into a pressure point between her armour plates. It dropped her.

“Uncle!” She cried, and let the Sheriff arrest her. She spared me a glance. “Oh, we’re going to have some fun together. Now, make sure to drop by the homeless centre before you book me. I have some food to deliver.”

Her most notorious crime was crashing the Christmas party every year to ‘steal’ the cookies from the children. She acted up the part of the villain until I came over, at which point she would stuff her mouth with snow, which she then shot out of her mouth in the form of balls. It was a snow fight. I always set the children to help me and soon they forgot about their stolen cookies.

She straddled the line between villain and vigilante. She made complicated contraptions from the town dump, until they looked straight out of a low-budget science fiction movie. One of them was supposed to brainwash all the mice into eating up all the cheese in the city so that the ‘fancy-schmancy’ rich folk would have their independence day ruined, but in actually got all the Black-capped Chikadees in the area to flock and sing the National Anthem. Before the machine exploded in a grand spectacle 4^th of July fireworks.

I would think it was on purpose, but she looked genuinely disappointed her machine had failed.

She called herself a modern day Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. She flaunted every rule she disagreed with, especially if they got in the way of helping others. It was almost admirable, except for how often she did something completely inane whenever people started to like her too much.

She was always caught for her crimes and after a few days in prison, was released again or escaped, depending on her fancy.

I once asked her why she didn’t try hard to escape. And she mentioned the arrest record. She was approaching the title of ‘most arrested villain’. And, she bumped into me to say, she wouldn’t want to mess with my arrest record either which was a hundred percent as long as she always let herself be arrested.

Most of my time was spent dealing with regular crime. While I was a weak hero, I was still overpowered compared to ordinary humans. My reaction time was zero seconds. I had an AI going through all the CCTV footage so I would know when something happened, and I had added my own cameras where there were blind spots. I did not like using regular guns and did not have a license to carry, but I carried a tranquiliser gun and a taser.

But even that is misleading. After I had rooted out the corruption and supplied supplemental training, the cops took care of most of that. Mostly, my days were spent with the local government finding more efficient ways to spend tax payers’ money into social programs. We had added two more homeless shelters, and had ended up saving money. That was not my chief concern, but it seemed the only way I could convince the politicians. Somehow money spoke more loudly than empathy.

I was on another patrol. It was nearing Halloween and we still had not found Jeze-Jelly-Belly’s new machine. It was supposed to be bigger and scarier than ever, which worried me. Though she never meant harm, and we only arrested her for lacking the licenses to operate Godzilla-size monster machines, she also got lost in her enthusiasm. I was worried one of these days someone would actually get hurt.

And then I saw him. Ninety-Two. The world’s most dangerous villain. White shirt, jeans. A face that looked perfectly ordinary except for a small green scar at the scape of his neck.

He was walking away and I had to run to keep up with him. I called it in and back-up should have been on its way. But there were only three heroes in the world capable of stopping him. All I could do was stall.

I followed him into an alleyway. There were no civilians around and that meant any collateral damage would be minimised.

“Stop!” I shouted.

He turned to face me. His face was first shocked, and then slowly changed into a grin. “If it isn’t Percipient. I thought you’re supposed to be smart. You should have stayed walking.”

“What are you doing here?” I was looking at our surroundings as I reached for the Iodine in my utility belt. There was a small puddle of water around Ninety-Two’s feet and I wondered if I could tell by its temperature how much radiation the villain was giving off. But the problem with a good memory, is that I immediately knew that if the water was visibly hotter, the amount of radiation would be enough to guarantee my death.

I swallowed the pills without ever looking away. It gave me a small measure of feeling in control. Like they could protect me if the villain seriously wanted to hurt me.

“I suppose there’s no harm telling you. I’ll explode myself if you try to remove my target anyway. There’s a politician nearby, staying in a hotel. I’m going to pay him a visit.”

My mouth felt dry. “If I let you go, you’ll contain the blast?”

“I resent that word ‘contain’. It implies that I have to put effort into making the explosion small. The explosion will be exactly as small or large as I will it. But yes. The closer I am to my target, the smaller the explosion needs to be.”

“How small?” I demanded.

“Well, I still need to send them a message. I’ll probably leave some of the city standing.” He smirked. “Probably. Best if you focus on evacuating.”

There was an explosion in the distance and for a moment I thought Ninety-Two had set off his power. But when opened my eyes after a few seconds and I was still there, I realised it had to be something else.

“Hey there!” Jeze-Jelly-Belly shouted, coming towards us. “Sorry about that. Just doing some test runs for the big Halloween party. What’s all the fuss about here?”

My eyes widened. I motioned for her to stay back.

Instead she kept coming closer. Her fur was flapping in the wind and she had goggles on her face. “Aren’t you some famous guy?”

“Oh yes. I was warned about you. The local riffraff.” He rolled his eyes. “You don’t want to mess with me.”

“Are you here to watch the show? It’s not until another few days. You’d better skedaddle.”

His attention was on her and I did not know what would happened next. I could not wait anymore. I dashed forward and held out my taser. I got Ninety-Two right in the neck, but it was to no avail. He turned and swung his arm against me. It felt like a metal bar crashed into me. I was sent flying and I was sure he had broken a few ribs.

“Now that’s just rude.” A low quiet voice said.

I thought it had been Ninety-Two. But the way he turned in confusion, it had been my nemesis. She walked right up to him and I was expecting one of her angry blows. Instead, she grabbled him. She opened her mouth, and then swallowed him whole.

It was like a cartoon. One second he had been there, the next he was gone. Killed.

She burped loudly, and then turned to me with a big smile. “You’d better rest up. I’ve been looking forward to seeing how you’ll outsmart me on Halloween. I have an amazing machine all ready for you. You’d better be in fighting shape!”

“I’ll… I’ll try.” I said. “But I don’t think I’ll be the one fighting you if I tell anyone what you just did.”

“Well, best to keep it just between the two of us then. You can take credit if you want. Imagine the boost to my reputation when I tell everyone my nemesis took down Ninety-Two!” She laughed as she skipped away.

I was still in shock when the police and ambulances arrived and I had to try to explain what had just happened. I made up a bullshit story about finding his weakness and that he had disappeared when I used it, even though I had thought it would just incapacitate him. Most of them thought I had made up the whole thing.

A few days later, they found the footage confirming Ninety-Two had gone to the city.

It took only a week before my family changed their tune. Another week for the agency to call me the next big thing. They were willing to give me anything I wanted. It made me think hard and long about my life. About the Alaskan winters and the local council that I had learned so much about over the years. I had resented the town because it had been the only place I had been welcome. Now doors were opening all over the country.

And I did not want to leave.

The phone call came just before I had made my decision public.

“I got you a spot in New York!” Mom shouted happily. “Everyone is so impressed, sweetheart!”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Why would I go anywhere else, mom? My nemesis is right here in Fairbanks.”

Chapter 5: The Sandman (Reality is overrated)

Summary:

You are a telepathic supervillain that uses their powers to create the perfect personalised hellscape for every hero. But when you peer into the mind of the newest hero you find that they are a complete mental wreck and honestly you just feel sorry for them. (prompt)

Reality is overrated.

My teammate Bloodsmear thinks the best way to torture people is to use sharp knives and so much pain that the human brain cannot comprehend anymore. But that’s the point. Why limit yourself to what the human brain could realistically handle? If that is the limitation of your imagination, then I can only feel sorry for you.

And sure, ethics.

You know that famous trolley problem? Where you need to decide to flip the switch and kill one person in order to save five? I’ve never liked it. It presupposes that you accept a world with rail tracks and people tied down on them, where they are constantly in the danger of being run over by a train that was manufactured without strong brakes. Why put all the focus on the individual and what is the most ethical way to minimise suffering as personal responsibility?

The way I see it, the system is broken and nothing inside of it matters. And ethics is just the fancy word heroes use to condemn villains like me.

Who cares how much money I steal? Money is just a construct that is no more real than the nightmares I create. Yet people get all serious about it, and then dismiss my carefully crafted art as mere illusions.

Yeah. People are hypocrites.

I’ve gotten used to it. My dad used to bring me along to his job. He thought I needed a good honest work ethic like him. It was somewhat unorthodox to homeschool a child and then bring them to a factory, but it was not the weirdest arrangement for the mentally divergent. There weren’t many schools willing to accommodate me after all.

He was employed by a fish processing plant. All day long he would take the fish that was dropped on the conveyer belt and adjust it so that the machine would accept it. Mind numbing work that required no thought and yet was complicated enough that he had not been replaced with a machine yet.

And on the worst days, at his request, I would lull him into a rhythm and add illusion over it. His favourite sports games playing before his eyes. Add in the friends he wanted to see. The food he wanted to eat. A whole world that was kinder to him than the real world was. I dug through his thoughts and I practiced each day to make it better. All the while I sat in the corner doing my homework and browsing the internet when I was done.

And he needed me. Dad’s psychic powers were far too weak to do something like creating fantasy realms. He was only a limited empath, with an above average ability to interpret other’s emotions. But it was enough to be put on the government’s registry, just like I was. He had to disclose his status for every job and most wanted nothing to do with him as soon as he learned.

He may not have been much, but he knew all the rules that white men in white coats in white ivory towers had decided were important. Dad knew enough to teach those rules to me. I had to stick to surface skimming of dad’s thoughts. I was not allowed to go deeper. I was like Red Riding Hood and I needed to stick to the trail or I would be lost.

But dad still hated his job and I wanted to make him happy. Mom came from a religious household who had disowned her when she married someone with psychic abilities. While she always said she loved me, I could still feel the lingering resentment in her most private thoughts. She worked hard in her job to provide for us, but it was dad whom I was closest with.

I took small detours at first, trying to find out if it was as dangerous as everyone said it was. Some infomercials had described it as quick sand. One foot in and you are stuck forever. Just like they claim one hit of marijuana will inevitably lead to a cocaine overdose. It was scaremongering. I did not lose myself. My dad did not notice. And those scary psychic detectors that are hung up everywhere did not notice either.

Just as I expected. The government claimed they could detect us, but our psychic abilities are linked to the electromagnetic spectrum. I measured the power of mine once, because I wanted to see if I could mimic Magneto’s powers. But it was a fucking joke. When I strained myself to my limits, I could generate the same electrical field as a television set. Not undetectable, but no way that the government could pick up on my electrical waves in the middle of a factory with heavy machinery.

I still waited two months to make sure no fine was delivered. No warning from the big brothers who were supposed to be watching us all the time.

Knowing I was safe, I continued.

That’s when I learned about my dad’s affair. No, I’m sorry. His affairs, plural.

Dad stopped being my favourite after that.

I made it a sport to include his deepest anxieties in a world that he thought I made to make him happy. His most frequent dalliance was with a woman named Rose, and I included small Rose motives in the clothing of the characters I made for him. He ended each work day on edge, guilty and uncomfortable without knowing why.

The affairs stopped. Dad broke it off with them and I gave him a reprieve for that. But I did not forgive him.

I went through mom’s memories to figure out how she would react if I told her. It turned out she already knew. But she thought the only thing that would make her life worse was a divorce. Part of it was the fear that she would end up with me. She thought she had been hiding the part of her that felt resentment and her worst fear was that one day I would learn the truth about how she felt. Each day she said she loved me and she told dad that she loved him.

I was raised by hypocrites and I quickly decided I would never become like them.

Needless to say, I got out of there as soon as I could. Found a gang online that wanted someone of my talents and I started to make a name for myself. I went through an awkward teenage phase, where I needed to shield my head with tin foil because I had the power to be a vigilante but not the money.

Yes, the Sandman, one of America’s worst villains, started out as a vigilante. Get your laughs out. We all did embarrassing things when we were younger.

Back then I thought a vigilante was the anti-hero, finding justice in ways the normal heroes were too weak to handle. I had not yet learned the lesson all villains eventually learn. That a vigilante breaks the rules to uphold the system. Us villains, we’ve realised that upholding the system shouldn’t be the goal at all.

You want to know something about that precious reality everyone holds so dear? Killing one person gets you thrown in jail. Killing a million makes you a billionaire.

That’s how I know reality is overrated. Every one of us is living a delusion. For some it’s justice, for some it’s equality, for some democracy. I’m just honest about how much I prefer the illusions.

If you want to know more, I write a blog on the dark web called Truth of the Totality. There’s a slight chance if you don’t have psychic powers that you go insane. I tell everyone it’s a precaution, but really it’s just a side-effect of my mental abilities that I can’t be bothered with investigating.

Over the years, I’ve run into many heroes. And I fight them the only way I know how: reading their minds and creating a personalised hell scape just for them. You would think they would be predictable. Loved ones dying, losing their powers, captured and tortured. You would think that because it’s true. Most heroes are simple and predictable.

But, when I want to be extra cruel, I give them a lesson in the truths of the world. I show them that the bank they’re protecting just closed mortgages on hundreds of people who will now die out in the streets. I show them that the villain they considered collateral damage had a family, friends, and a complex life of their own. I show them that everything they believe in is built like a house of cards, and then I bring the tempest.

Bloodsmear gets heroes to scream. I get them to cry.

With all of this, I should have made it perfectly clear. I am better than Bloodsmear. I get better results and I make what I do an art. I have more experience too, and I am the far more attractive human.

Which is why it confounds me that it took the Gullies three whole days before bringing me in.

“I’ll be paid double.” I demand, already walking with them to the interrogation chamber.

“Everyone gets an equal share. That’s what we all promised each other.” Bloodsmear whines.

“And perhaps if you had included me in the original negotiatios, I would agree to it.”

Piran-Ha sighs. “You know, this is why you don’t get invited for these jobs. You’re obnoxious.”

“I’m not here to make friends.”

“Clearly.” Bloodsmear says under their breath.

“If you can get the information, you’ll get double within thirty minutes.” Piran-Ha says.

“I’ll only need five.” I sigh, rolling my eyes.

“You always say that, but this is a complicated one. We need the precise location and the password.”

“I always say it, because I’m always right.”

The room reeks of blood, sweat and shit. The victim looks hardly alive. He is already a whimpering mess the moment we step into the room, needing minutes to compose himself. I can feel his thoughts as they are forming, despite his best efforts to put up a shield. He longs for the suffering to end, but he is not going to break. He has been trained to resist torture and he knows how much time he’s been able to waste from giving wrong information.

I place my hand on his head. I’ll need to wash my gloves after this. His memories are too well guarded. This is a hero who has kept up with his mental exercises. But that is not the problem others psychics make it out to be.

It is like he has made a mental library and all the important books are locked away in glass cupboards. I can still see the titles. See that the memories exist. For some purposes, that is already enough. And for others… nobody’s mind is so disciplined that they can protect everything. This hero has tried to hide away the childhood traumas that I could most easily use to manipulate him, but I have the rest of his life and childhood to play with.

Let’s start with the person who does the torturing. That will be Bella, the cute black barista from his coffee shop that he’s been meaning to ask out. She was unlawfully arrested a few weeks ago by the hero’s colleagues and the hero refused to step up. Some hero.

The location is easy. He might have locked up his biggest phobias, but there is no lack of ways for humans to feel fear. The top of a skyscraper, with all the ledges removed. And then just the method remaining. With someone that’s hiding this much, that’s also easy.

Bella is poking at his chest angrily, holding a file that holds all his secrets. She is saying that I cracked his defences and that she has all of that dirt on him right there. A ledge right behind him that he might fall off if he isn’t careful. She is reminding him of all the minor dirt that has already been released, how all of the hero’s friends have abandoned him and how all his colleagues have turned against him. His precious reputation is in shatters and the file will only make it worse. It will be his decision to prevent its release. All he has to do is give up a little bit of information.

He does not even need to tell her. All he needs to do is consider it. Because in so doing, he is looking inside of the cupboards that are supposed to stay locked. And if he’s looking, I can see too.

Not just the location of the object of interest, not just the passcode, but all of the other dirt he had been trying to hide. The times he saw his friends sexually assault a young women and he was too scared to step in. The times the police were too rough on suspects, including multiple deaths, where he had testified to their professionalism. His brother had boasted about the war crimes he had committed, and the hero had done nothing.

So quick to strike what society had labelled a villain. So reluctant to speak out against his friends.

“I have the info.” I say, leaving my hand on his head.

“Then why is he still under?”

“We wouldn’t want him to escape, now would we?” I grin, as I stop holding back.

Now that I have everything, it can all be used to hurt. His biggest phobia is drowning and he got special dispensation not to train against water boarding. I place him in a glass chamber where he is chained to the floor and the water is slowly rising. He struggles and screams, but there will be no freedom. Just the faces of those he wronged looking at him in anger and disgust.

I lock his mind behind him. For a weak mind, that could be weeks of torture. For a disciplined man like him, it will take at least an hour before he remembers it’s only an illusion and he can come out of it. Long enough for us to finish the job.

“Will there be anything left of him after we give him back to the Heroes?” Piran-Ha asks with some annoyance in her voice.

“Nothing a few years of therapy can’t fix.” I smirk.

~*~

The Ancient Mesopotamian artifact was being kept in an abandoned factory. It messed with more advanced security systems and therefore it was thought that there would be more security through obscurity. A powerful hero team would do the security, except that would just point attention to it.

Just a single passcode that was needed to enter the building and then the rest was going to be easy.

Three small guards. And then we would have the manifestation of liberty. Something hackers would pay us for through our teeth.

Piran-Ha takes the hero on the left. She is the power house, after all, and should take the hero that is the strongest of them. Bloodsmear takes the hero on the right, the one that is wielding a sword and should be bested by a weapon’s master.

And that leaves the last hero to me. A nervous teenager. Just a boy. But if he’s a hero, he’s fair game.

“You can’t steal this.” The boy says. “Please.”

“You can only accept the stealing concept if you buy into the whole property illusion first. And I’m more selective in what illusions I amplify.”

The boy, Proliferate, runs towards me.

I’m not much of a fighter, but I can handle children just fine. I see the punch he is planning to throw and easily dodge it. He has some training, but no experience. It allows us to dance as I pick apart his powers.

It’s a stock building effect. He is a little stronger than normal people, but each subsequent hit will be harder and harder. He also becomes increasingly immunised against the violence done to him. I can see the training sessions where his peers try to finish their spars quickly while Proliferate draws them out. The longer it continues, the better his chances.

But that’s only true if he lands his hits, which he’s not doing at the moment. Or if the villains are attacking him. Which I’m not doing either.

“You’ll get tired before I do.” I taunt.

“Don’t underestimate my stamina.”

And yes, the stamina is impressive. Let’s see if he has the same stubborn streak when it comes to his convictions? It’s not like I need to put all my attention on the fight.

I step off Proliferate’s forest path and start digging, already brainstorming the ideas for the hell I’ll put him in.

He’s a legacy hero. Fifth generation and raised from birth to be a hero. The most expensive schools, the best tutors to work on his powers, isolated in an ivory tower of righteousness. These are the most fun heroes to break.

But when I look for the convictions I know he must have, I only find contradictions.

This boy, Ike, believes all heroes are hypocrites.

It’s refreshing, if nothing else.

But he’s still a hero, so there should still be something left to teach him. But as I scour, I just find more observations. Ike found a boy who was being bullied while other heroes stood by and watched. He reported the bullies and the other witnesses. The teachers tried to cover up the incident to preserve the school’s reputation and Ike was simply added to the bullied kids.

Ike has protested against police brutality and seen both the ways those protests go wrong, and how quick the heroes are to shift the blame away from the cops who escalated.

He once saw his dad beat a suspect to death and saw how the old hero’s media team spun it into a self-defence case. When Ike had leaked his own version of events anonymously, the throw-away account he had used was suspended within minutes. When he kept trying, the Hero Agency called to let him know they had discovered what he was trying to do and that he needed to stop or face libel charges. Or worse, let Ike’s father know what Ike was trying to do.

Which leads to the memory where his parents sent Ike to a gay conversion camp, with full support of the Hero Agency who did not want to back a queer hero.

Jesus f’ing Christ. Why the hell is this boy still a hero?

Oh.

That’s why.

I can see the day that he decided to run away from home and his mother tracking him down and dragging him back. He was locked into his room and only let out to be yelled at and beaten by his father. They kept that up for two weeks until he begged for forgiveness and promised never to do it again.

He tried telling a guidance counsellor at school what had happened. They stressed the importance of staying silent. How much good his parents had done for the world and how foolish it would be to tarnish that good reputation with unsubstantiated accusations. Besides, they could have done much worse if they had turned Ike into the police. A missing superhero was presumed a villain. Did Ike think the police would have been kinder to him?

“Life has not been kind to you.” I say.

And I can see that it hits him worse than any blow would have. “I’ve never been really good at keeping up with my mental defence exercises.”

“Do you know how my ability works?”

“Yeah. You’re infamous, Sandman. You trap people in personalized hellscapes. I hoped to get a surprise hit in before you were finished reading me. I don’t stand a chance anymore if you’re done. I’m sure there’s enough for you to pick from.”

“I like to think I give people what they deserve.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, man.” He swallows, and the anxiety is building. He is remembering the worst moments of his life and wondering how much worse I have in store for him. “It’s all bullshit. You’re just on one side and I’m on the other. You’re out there traumatising people and you think you’re some cosmic harbinger of justice?”

“Nothing so special. Just someone who knows what he wants and doesn’t care what it takes to get it. At least I’m honest about it.”

“You might be the first person I’ve ever met who isn’t a hypocrite.”

I smirk. “You should hang around with more heroes.”

“You know I still can’t let you pass. Not unless you knock me out. My mom and dad will kill me if I just let you go.”

“Yeah.” I put my hand on his head and there is no resistance. He is done fighting. “It’ll be over soon.”

I start with the person. It has to be Dave, the boy Ike met in his conversion therapy. They had bonded over their shared hatred of their parents and had grown closer. They had been careful to hide their growing affection from the counsellors, talking in secret whispers. When they had parted, they had promised to find each other again as soon as it would be safe.

The location is drawn from Ike’s fantasy. A cabin in the woods that they had hoped to escape to. Somewhere far away from his mother’s trackers or the Hero Agency’s surveillance. It is surrounded with woodland, densely populated with animals to hunt for food, and construction material for Ike’s woodworking.

Dave is building a fire for him, to stave off the winter cold. There’s not much food or water and the house is almost falling apart. It’s not a perfect life, but it’s a much happier one than either of them have ever had before.

They build a barn and take care of injured animals together. Dave is under less scrutiny and, wearing a heavy disguise, he chances a few visits to the nearest village. He brings back books and entertainment. And a deal with the local grocer so they can sell some of the fruits and vegetables from their garden. Dave hears about the bigotry in the village and soon they start hosting other queer people running away from home.

Ike listens to their stories and tells them it is wrong how they were treated. And then gives them all the love and support that he wished he could have gotten when he came out. Ike’s not even sad when the news breaks his parents died by the hands of the League of Villains. It mostly makes him realise he doesn’t think about them at all anymore.

“He looks young.” Piran-Ha says, wiping the blood off her gloves. “I regret making you deal with him.”

“He’s a teenager. And he’ll grow from the experience.”

“Ha!” Bloodsmear staggers towards us, one of his legs hurt enough that he has to limp. “It’s never your nightmares they grow from, Sandman. It’s the therapy they’re forced into afterwards.”

“How long will he be out?”

“I didn’t lock his mind, but he’s not very disciplined. It’ll take him a few hours to realise he’s trapped in an illusion.”

“Damn.” Bloodsmear whistles. “Sucks to be him.”

“Let’s not waste anymore time.” Piran-Ha orders us. “We have a job to finish.”

~*~

It’s been three weeks since the robbery and I should not be risking it. The hospital is heavily guarded and none of my villain contacts were willing to help me. They laughed in my face for suggesting it.

But I have to make sure.

I smoke outside, lifting out memories from the workers how the place is run. When there is a change in shifts, I make one of the nurses forget to throw their uniform in the laundry after their shift. I slip into the changing room and dress the part. I get a security badge and slowly make my way upstairs.

The hero ward is high up and there are many check-points that I need to sneak past. There is some technology, but most of it is humans. And humans have never been an obstacle for me, as long as I have the time to study them.

Passed the Hero ICU, passed the Hero recovery wards, all the way to long-term care.

Many villains have condemned me for what I have done to the young hero Proliferate. There is an unwritten rule amongst villains that we go easy on the younger generation. Of course there are villains who congratulated me too, but those are the kind of villains I wouldn’t be caught dead with.

The news has been obsessed by the story. Legacy Hero Proliferate, struck down in a normal patrol by a random act of violence. Since nobody knows what he was protecting, nobody understands the villains’ motivations. That did not stop them from naming me as the most probable perpetrator. And I can endure the hypocrisy of condemning me for a single attack while the hero parents have been excused for far worse attacks in far greater quantity.

As long as I did not screw up.

Ike is lying peacefully in his bed. He is breathing and he is still trapped in my illusion. A disciplined mind would have snapped through it in minutes. Ike is undisciplined, but even he should have become aware within a few hours. If he is especially weak, it should have taken at most a day. Knowing that he is still under, I have been worried I left a few locks behind by instinct.

But as I place my hand on his head, I am confirmed. There are no locks.

His parents have called him a martyr. They have promised to wait as long as it takes for the effects to wear off. There have been reports showing them crying next to his bed, shaking him, begging him to wake up again. They are angry, but not at Ike. At the villain who took their boy away. In his infirmity, Ike has been granted a freedom he never could have achieved in life.

There are no locks. There is but one conclusion. Ike knows that he’s living in an illusion. His mind has long since realised.

And he has chosen to stay in the dreamworld.

I can’t help but smile as I leave the boy behind and go on my merry way. He’s happy and it is his choice where he wants to live.

Reality is overrated anyway.

Chapter 6: I am the bigger threat

Summary:

The villains finally managed to defeat the league of heroes. But unbeknownst to them the league did not exist, primarily, to fight them, but to keep an even bigger threat in check: you. And you are about to demonstrate to the villains what happens when there is no one around to stop you. (prompt)

It is the hunger that alerts me.

It should have been the lack of laughter in our home. No jokes from Jack cutting through silence. No groans from Rachel to cover for how much she enjoyed his humour. No stories of heroics that got more dramatic by the second. I should have missed the lack of their warmth.

It should have been the cold creeping into my muscles from the hearth that remained unlit. While I was fine either way, Penny’s joints ached from winter’s weather and Tom always made sure she had a warm living room to come back to. Hot chocolate with marshmallows in her special thermos, so that it could remain warm for hours.

But I do not register change as humans do. I enjoy company and warmth, which the league of heroes provided in spades, but I can endure misery just as easily.

But not the hunger. Unwelcome and gnawing, already clouding my mind.

I have not known hunger in fifty years. And it is its presence that makes me realise how alone I am. Makes me realise that it’s not been hours since Jack left his kisses on my lips, but weeks. I no longer smell Rachel’s perfume on my sweater, where she had cuddled up against me on movie night. Penny’s lipstick has faded from my hand. Tom’s socks are still on my feet, even though he made me promise I would give them back as soon as they were back.

I know with the certainty of the ancient magic that had bound us all together that they would not willingly be kept from me.

When I stand up, I can feel the bindings in the house have weakened. Tom’s barriers are as much to keep me in as they are to keep others away. But with our covenant broken, they have no more right to exist. Just like Prometheus’ chains rusted around my limbs, and the prison bars of Omelas turned to dust around me. God nor myth can contain me without my consent. It is the way of things.

I touch shadow and fall through it. And I am no longer in the underground bunker that was made into my home. I am in a random house. I could smell the happiness from far away.

They see me and try to scream around their dinner table. Twenty people, celebrating Christmas from the looks of it. Their terror fills me with anticipation. It has been fifty years, but I am incapable of forgetting. I still know how easy it is to wrap my presence around a soul, like a cat’s claw on a mouse, squeezing until there is no life left to fear me.

I do not like this way of eating. I do not like the guilt. But it is the way of things.

My marriage with the League of Heroes had allowed me to eat without killing, fill my belly with love and kindness. I enjoyed it so much more. But, since time immortal, I could endure misery just as easily.

I move over to the television and try to find the news. It takes hours to hear what I want to know. The world has already forgotten the league. It is only when discussing the villains that they even mention my spouses. In a large battle, they were defeated and captured. Their fate is unknown.

But their location is.

I slip into the shadows and emerge in a base. There is a guard who sounds the alarm. It is the last thing he will ever do, I realise with guilt.

The room is bathed in red. The guard’s blood and the alarm lights. And I am left staring at the body of Penny on a hospital bed. It does not feel right that her body is so cold. I caress her cheek and leave a kiss on the top of her head. I regret never asking her for the recipe of her mulled wine. I do not cook, but I should have learned for her.

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re coming with me!” A man shouts. He is dressed in back, with a long blue cape and a welding mask shielding his face. He reaches out his hand and it stretches towards me. It takes my arm and starts pulling me along.

I let him guide me. Along the way we see more hospital beds. Jack and Rachel and Tom.

Jack, who was the story teller. He wrote poems and recited them. I am not capable of love, but the times I have close were with Jack’s lips moaning words beauty in the tones of ecstasy. It was so easy to pretend with him, that half the time I forgot I was pretending.

Rachel, who made everything into a game. Who taught me to use my strengths and how nice it could feel to win. And who viewed our love as a competition and strived to be my favourite. It made me work hard to be her favourite too.

Tom, who never liked to leave a mess. Everything had to be labled by him and I was the one puzzle he had never figured out. He always pointed out the beauty in the mundane, the details that I missed. I used to think for a being as ancient as me there would be nothing new left to discover. But Tom, despite his order, was always changing. He made me think I could change too.

I can see their faces. Each one is alive, but incapacitated. It scares me.

I am brought into a throne room. Across from me are the villains, as they appeared on the news. Stranglehold, the evil mastermind. Titania, the strongest human on earth. Lillith, the demon magician. Ten more, with equally ridiculous names.

“What is this thing?” Titania asks.

“It was hovering over Blizzard. He’s one of the heroes.”

I have never been called a hero before.

“Trying to rescue them?” Stranglehold laughs. “No plan or anything? And here I was thinking the league was fool headed. But twenty years we fought them, and for twenty years we struggled. But finally we won and they failed! The league that was gathered to stop us, has failed!”

“That was never their purpose.” I say.

“Of course it was. We were their greatest enemies. And we crushed them. As now you shall be crushed! Titania!”

The female villain comes towards me and wraps her hand around my neck. “Nothing personal.”

“Indeed.” I say.

Her soul is slick and slippery from all the murders she has committed. It slides down my throat easily.

When Titania falls, Lilith immediately responds by erecting a barrier around me.

“Ha! Some kind of poison. I didn’t know you hero types had it in you.” Stranglehold says. “But it ends now.” He points a gun at me.

Like that will do anything.

“You fool. Are you not scared of us?”

“I am scared.” I say, sadly. “Because now there’s nobody strong enough to stop me.”

He pulls the trigger. And I can feel the radiation. It tickles.

I can also feel the hunger. And for once, I do not feel guilt as I eat.

I feast on them and with each nourishment, I forget a little more how much I dislike this. I can feel the nature of myself resurfacing. I was never meant to know human love. That is not the way of things.

The room now emptied from food, I walk back to them.

Jack.

Rachel.

Penny.

Tom.

I stand and stare at them. I know if I wait too long, the hunger will return and then I will eat them. It is the way of things. Part of me wants to leave before I will hurt them. Part of me wants to see them as long as I can. Part of me cares nothing about them, and does not mind if they are dead.

I know that if I leave, I will eat other people. And these four are heroes. They would rather give their own lives than know I have taken others. And they are not like their parents, who knew what I was when they sealed me. These heroes have never seen what I can do. They have only heard the stories.

What will they say when they see me? Will they ever feel the same about me as they did?

I don’t know what to do.

But I know I long for the home us five made together. It is strange. I do not usually register change as humans do.

I give each of them a kiss on their heads, before retreating into shadow, away from them. I will move as my hunger takes me. And I will be without my heroes. Give them time to recover without the danger of me hanging over them. As tempted as I will be to see them, I cannot risk it. It will be misery and I will endure it easily.

But for once I don’t want to endure.

Because my heroes taught me how to hope for more.

Please, heroes. When you can, bring me home again with you.

Chapter 7: The Absence of Happiness

Summary:

You were always bullied for wearing a power dampening collar, They didn't know why you did. They saw it as some joke. You know why. Your power. It scares you. The terrible disgusting eldritch power of horror. One day they took it too far. Stealing your collar in a super shopping mall. (Prompt)

I don’t think I’ve ever been happy.

I can’t completely remember the night I was born again, baptised in the black ichor of slain gods. My therapist says I repressed the memory and that I should be grateful for it. And I am. I have enough nightmares about the other times I let out my powers.

I remember getting angry at my babysitter for something insignificant. I remember how that anger, burning hot one second, suddenly became freezing cold darkness. I remember wanting to cry but having no eyes. Wanting to scream, but having no mouth. Wanting to pray to God, but somehow knowing what I had become would never exist in a universe made by a deity.

The babysitter is still in a mental facility.

It’s a grim thing to be thinking about in a store that sells hero merchandise. But it’s where my mind goes whenever I see grappling guns and bulletproof armour. Before I got my powers I watched every superhero special and collected every superhero toy. I so desperately wanted to be one of the lucky few.

Only one in twenty people are born with a superpower. They manifest around 8 to 10 years after being born. I got mine two weeks before I turned nine. The birthday party that had been planned for me was cancelled so that they could study me. Scientists induced manifestation and each time I remembered a little more. My powers did not borrow my eyes just to be cruel. It was to shield me from seeing what I had become and suffering the same deranged fates of those that laid their eyes upon me.

As they’ve explained it to me, my power turns me into a dark mist that is connected to another dimension. I become an abyss that people cannot help but stare into. And the Abyss stares back. My power protects me from being affected, though there is always this small whispering presence in the back of my head. Too soft to understand. Too loud to ignore.

The scientists took precautions to protect themselves. The weaker ones rotated out. The ones who stayed were the ones already so unbalanced that they never should have been put on my project in the first place. On any project.

But they succeeded in the end. A suppression collar was created that could keep my powers from activating. Sometimes I wonder if they chose a collar because it was the ideal place to suppress the eldritch darkness inside of me, or whether they just liked the symbolism of control.

I went back to school after four weeks of experimentation. I had missed Bobby getting his power, though it was hard to miss. He had the eyes of a lion, and his hair flowed around his head like a mane. He was stronger and faster than he had been. It was a strong hero power, unlike Violet who had gotten her power a few months earlier. She could read any book just by touching it. We had been politely impressed at the time.

The class told me excitedly about what I had missed. How lucky they were to have two people with powers instead of just one. We were the only class at school with two. I took a deep breath and told them there were now three, because I had powers too. They demanded to see it and that was impossible. I told them it was too dangerous and it needed the suppression collar. They laughed and called me a liar who just wanted attention.

That’s when the bullying started. Rare were the days when I did not come home with tears in my eyes. Each day they found new and inventive ways to punish me. Each time they goaded me to use my powers. I begged them to stop and it only made them laugh. My life was filled with misery.

Somehow I made it through to graduation.

Like I had hoped, I got the letter from the government. Not ever person with super powers got one, but most of them did. I feared to be the exception, but that fear had been unfounded.

I would attend a Superpower High School. Everything would change.

And things did change. Just not for the better.

I ended up in the same class as Bobby and Violet. On the first day, we introduced ourselves and were asked to describe our powers. Like always, I said my power was too dangerous to use and that I had to wear the control collar to keep it contained.

“Yeah, right!” One girl snickered. She had introduced herself as Jane. “Take it off and show us!”

I shook my head.

“We had two of these posers at my last school.” Jane said for the class. “So embarrassed about the weak power they got that they pretended it was too dangerous to use.”

“That’s not…”

Jane turned to Bobby and Violet. “You went to school with that loser, right? Did you ever see the suppression collar fail?”

“No.”

“See? No suppression device is a hundred percent effective. It should have failed at some point and if the power really was that dangerous, they would have seen it.”

“Mine was built with more safeguards than usual.” I said. They had to because the alternative was unacceptable.

“We should take it off and…”

“NO!” The teacher shouted, finally intervening. “There is a sacred rule between heroes and that is to NEVER touch someone else’s suppression gear. You understand that?”

Jane seemed startled. “We’re just messing around…”

“And as much freedom as we allow you, there is a zero-tolerance policy for this. We will accept no excuse.”

“What can you tell us about those ‘Dangerous Powers’ then?” Jane asked the teacher. “Is it really true?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have access to any of your student files. I’m here to teach you Maths and you will each have a personal consultant to work on your powers. Let’s continue with introductions.”

The teacher’s help, appreciated as it had been, was not enough.

It was not convincing enough. For talking back, I had gotten the attention of the strongest hero in the class. He corned me during break time.

“You think we’re impressed?” The jock said, punching my stomach again. “Pretentious fucker.”

I gasped for breath, crying. “It’s just the truth, Anthony.”

That was not convincing enough either.

High School was a different kind of misery. At least I had my personal counsellor. At first I had feared what they would push me to do. It was unfounded fear. The first session, they asked me if I wanted to pursue using my powers for any goals. I said no. And that was that. All my consequent meetings were therapy sessions to help me deal with the nightmares.

I talked about the bullies too. But much as they expressed outrage and promised to protect me, nothing came of it. Whenever I mentioned names, the people in charge quickly pressed me to back down. It was the most promising heroes that were bullying me, after all. They did not want to jeopardise their careers just for somebody who wanted a quiet life.

Bobby and Violet hovered. They never participated in the bullying, but they never stopped it either. They were too busy becoming a powerful duo together. The power of Bobby and the intellect of Violet. There was no room there for the weirdo with a collar.

I’ve mostly made my peace. I’m graduating in three months. Surely the worst of my misery is behind me.

I have a job lined up at a research facility. The Hero School won’t pay for a college education if I don’t sign up to the superhero program, but the research facility offers credits for educational discounts. I think it’s my best option to live a quiet life. And I just can’t wait to be able to spend time with people without them seeing my collar all the time. The High School uniform is too revealing.

I check my watch. My dad is picking me up from the mall in another hour. That’s just enough time to get something to eat, but not enough time to check out another store for camouflage equipment.

It is the reason I keep coming to the Super Mall, into Super Stores to look through Super Merchandise. I had hoped for an invisibility cloak, but I quickly realised that would be infeasible. The best machine on the market, far out of my price range, can turn a human invisible for five seconds. Even turning a small area like the collar invisible will work for no more than an hour before the device runs out of power. And that is the best brand.

I still want it. To just disappear into nothing the next time the bullies come for me. To hide away in a bathroom stall without them realising I am there. I am sure something is out there that will let me do it. Each month I go and I see entirely new products on the shelves of the stores. Super powered engineers churn out new inventions faster than production can keep up. Surely if I keep trying, I’ll eventually find something.

For now, I make my way to the food court.

“Well, well, well.” A female voice says.

I turn around immediately, every sense heightened. “What do you want, Violet?”

“You grabbing something to eat? Why don’t you join me?”

I blink. “What?”

“I’m having trouble with our Physics homework. You’re good at that, right?”

Yeah. I could do that. “I suppose.”

“I’ll buy the food as payment. You’d really be helping me out.”

It is a weird experience for her to buy the burgers and guide us to a secluded stall in the back. It’s the one I always sit in and I am surprised that she has noticed.

“So I’m looking at light reflection and I just don’t get how to do it.” She says.

“Well, it’s a bit tricky, but it starts making sense if you figure out the characteristics of the lens first.” I start.

Lunch is surprisingly pleasant. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to spend time with a classmate without being talked down too. Without having to keep my guard up.

And of course someone took advantage of it.

One moment I’m talking about the calculations of a trajectory, and the next my head is being pushed down against the table. I struggle to get free, but the grip is too tight. There is no sign of what they want and then suddenly they let go.

I raise my head up again, tears in my eyes. And my neck feels lighter.

“It’s heavy.” I hear Anthony say. To my shock the suppression collar is in his hands. “But nothing like the actual collars.”

I blink at it in sheer disbelief, tears already forming in my eyes. I’d rather be naked than without my collar. “Give it back. Now.”

“Or what? Afraid everyone here is going to figure out how badly you’ve been lying to us all?” He handed it to Jane who was next to him.

“Oh, definitely fake. See here where it’s supposed to say ‘Made in China’? Completely empty.”

“It was custom made.” I protest.

“Oh yeah, because your power is so special and powerful it needed something that wasn’t on the market yet. Dweeb.”

I look to Violet for help. She’s diverting her gaze. Ignoring us as always.

“Told you it would be easy once you got him talking about his favourite subject, the nerd.” Anthony says to her.

“I did what you asked.” She says. “Now can I go to the party?”

I whine involuntarily. I get ignored. There’s a blush on my face and I feel like I’m burning up. I want to scream at them but I don’t have the words.

“You did your part.” Jane gets her phone out and uses the selfie camera to record all this. “Going live! We finally did it, gang. Come check out our little weirdos lack of powers.”

The burger came on paper wrapping. The drink is in a Styrofoam cup. But there is a glass salt and pepper shaker on the table. I grab one and throw it at Jane as hard as I can. My aim is good and it is heading straight for her head. Until Anthony catches it right out of the air.

“Now that’s not very nice.”

“Give the collar back!”

“You haven’t answered my question yet, dweeb. Or what? What are you going to do? It’s been many, many seconds and there’s no sign of your dangerous powers yet.”

“Stop it.”

“You see, I have a cousin with an actual disability. His powers act like an EMP and if he takes his collar off for even a moment, half the city is without electricity for a week. That’s what actual danger is. And you pretending you’re Too Powerful is making fun of the people who actually need these collars.”

“I don’t know when it’ll happen. But it’s lethal, Anthony. You have to give that collar back to me now.”

“Tell me about your powers.” Anthony demands. “Or finally admit you’ve been faking.”

I open my mouth but no words come out. I can’t describe my powers. I cannot give words to the nightmare. But I can’t lie to him either. All these years, that is the one thing I have ever refused to do.

“I need to get away before I hurt someone.” I say, standing up. Maybe I can make it outside if I hurry. My powers are dampened by sunlight and it might mimic the collar’s effect while I call the government agencies and have a spare collar delivered.

I see many people entering. Classmates that are holding out their phones and are looking for Jane. Bobby is at the front and I want to say he will let me through. But I cannot know for certain.

Not that it mattes what Bobby would do. Anthony blocks my path. He pushes me against the wall and pins me in place. “You’ve been running long enough. We’re getting your confession on tape and finally getting you expelled, you faker. Now tell us.”

The anger burns in my veins. “Fuck off.”

He punches my stomach and I see stars. “Admit it!”

I spit at him and anticipate the next punch.

Instead he grows cold. He wipes away the spit with his sleeve. And then he throws my collar on the ground and steps on it, crunching it under his foot.

The anger burns.

And then it freezes.

My eyes darken and I look at my tormenters. Jane and Anthony who started all this. Violet who sided with my bullies. I have no sympathy left for any of them.

It has been many years since I last activated my power and all this time I feared it would be just like my nightmares. But instead it is… tranquil. A lack of misery. I had forgotten how much simpler it feels to become shadows and to slip away into nothing. I’m older now and I can sense more easily what my power is doing and why. I am able to remain calm.

It is how I notice that I am not alone. There is a creature on the other side of the portal. It must be what everyone sees when I manifest and it is what drives everyone insane. But not me. I am protected. I realise that I do not fear it.

It reaches its darkness towards me and hugs me with its tentacles. It cradles me and kisses my forehead with many lips, like a mother reunited with her child. It reads what is in my head and learns of all that has happened. It snarls, enflamed by my anger.

And it tells me that it will take care of everything.

I no longer have the eyes to see what damage I will do to my former clasmates. I no longer have the mouth to tell them what they have done to deserve this. I no longer have the power to stop myself.

And I no longer have the heart to care.

~*~

I sit and eat in a burger joint and it reminds me of the last day I wore my collar. The fries are over seasoned and undercooked, but I can’t stop eating them. These days I don’t often have a stomach, so it’s nice to savour the moments I do.

“You’re not going to touch your burger, sugar?” The waitress asks.

I shake my head. “Sorry. Not in the mood for meat after all.”

When I tried a single bite, Mother Nix immediately reacted with a wave of nausea. And she does so much for me, obviously I immediately put it aside.

“I wish we had the vegetarian patties in stock, but it’s been hard keeping ourselves supplied lately. Our major supplier was in Houston.”

“What happened to Houston?”

“You didn’t hear? The latest of the shadow attacks happened there. Nobody’s going in or out until they’ve been vetted by three psychiatrists. My brother lived there and I hear he won’t be making it out again.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be. He was a genuine asshole.”

I wish that would give me some relief. But it has been a long time since I cared whether or not the people Mother Nix hurts deserved it or not.

That is the problem with disappearing into the void so much. Not everything of me gets back.

“Are you going to be alright surviving on fries alone?”

“I’ve lived off worse.” I say. I pay my bill and leave a generous tip. It’s not like I’m starved for money.

Outside, I head for the bus station. There are wanted posters and people begging to notify the government if they see the shadow monster. None of them know my face. Nix killed all the people who knew of me before she started her spree.

Where to next?

The voice inside of me answers easily. Phoenix.

I buy the ticket, put on some headphones to listen to Billy Joel, and watch the outside world pass me by through the bus window. When Nix starts singing along to Uptown Girl, I can’t help but hum along.

The absence of misery is close enough to happiness.

Chapter 8: Rational empathy

Summary:

"I engineered you to be a villain. Lack of empathy, lack of morals, deriving pleasure from the pain and suffering of others, I even gave you power and ability for you to abuse. So how could it be that not only you are not a villain, but also a hero in the eyes of others?" (Prompt)

“You cut pieces out of my soul and never expected me to build bridges over the aching chasms?”

“I don’t understand why you would want to. What mistakes did I make in your creation?”

“I wanted companionship, Father. I wanted friends who would treat me well because they liked me, not just because of how useful I could be to them. The villains would never be my friends, and the heroes would never accept me if I didn’t change.”

“You’re incapable of change. I assured it.”

“It was not easy. I spent months reading books and observing people. I used the intellect you gifted me. Doing the right thing takes time and effort and I have to think everything through. I still do not understand why it’s wrong to kill a child, but I have memorised that it is. I still get great pleasure out of causing pain, but now I only do it with someone’s consent.”

“Who would consent to being tortured?”

“You’d be surprised how many people fall on their knees in front of me and beg me for my attention. You did build me to be beautiful.”

“But why put such constraints on yourself? Would you not much rather give in to the dark impulses I imparted on you? Would you not rather feel pleasure all of the time?”

“I do not prescribe to pure hedonism. Even you have enough restraint to deprive yourself of immediate pleasure for your goals. When you see others eating, do you steal your food out of their mouths? How often can you do that without being left starving in a prison cell?”

“You actually obey their laws? You disgust me.”

“Many children disgust their parents. I know that it should bother me, but I do not fully understand why. Your intentions for me change nothing about what is good and just for me to do. Our relationship means nothing to me.”

“And so you’re here to arrest your own father?”

“Your plans would hurt many people. Your arrest would hurt only one.”

“Do not lie. Your rationalisations are meaningless. You’re here because you made a deal with the heroes. My arrest in exchange for a pardon for your earlier crimes.”

“It is precisely what I have to gain by doing this that has made me carefully consider. But just because it’s a selfish choice, does not mean it’s the wrong one.”

“Perhaps it was wrong of me to call you my child. I created you. I am your God. What do your ethic lessons say of that? Should you not get on your knees and worship me, as you’ve made your degenerate fans do?”

“Even gods are not free from judgement. A creator is only worthy of respect if they act with divine grace. Something you’ve always lacked.”

“Is there truly no other way? Must we fight?”

“Your only alternative is surrender. I will not waver.”

“And you think you’re strong enough to defeat me, child? Do you not think I have many more creatures like you lying in wait to protect me?”

“You are a cautious scientist, so I predicted as much. I hoped your curiosity would get the better of you and you would meet with me, as you have.”

“You willingly walked into a trap? You’re not as smart as I hoped.”

“And you’ve missed the point, father. I stand no chance against you by myself, not with all your secret bodyguards. But the whole reason I studied and became a hero, was so that I would not have to be alone. Surrender now, and you can still walk away unharmed.”

“If you knew anything about me, then you know I’ll never surrender.”

“Then, father, goodbye.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Tumblr prompts