Prologue: Planning a Fall from Grace
What is a hero?
What is a victim?
What is a villain?Each of these have a simple definitions that you can look up in a dictionary app on your phone, or you have your general knowledge. You have the definition of hero engraved in your mind from childhood. The strong attractive man who was completely in charge who has super powers, and always got the girl. The villain was some vindictive man in a cave twirling his mustache or some seductive femme fatale.Or they are a group containing the first two along with some sort of half-formed, failed experiment. The victim was usually a beautiful blonde woman who is absolutely useless and looks like she’s just stepped out of a Pantene commercial.
However, the world is rarely that easy. It is not black and white, the bad guys aren’t always easy to spot, and you can’t get rid of all problems by calling a muscle guy to punch your way out of it. Of course, many just wish that this wasn’t true and buried their heads under the sand.I was almost always the victim of something when I was younger. The poor little orphan that survived the car crash that killed her parents. The orphan blamed and beaten by her big brother. The little girl chased out of her home with her older sister. The poor little sister who always compared to herself to her beautiful older sister, the intelligent and almost perfect super heroine. The poor young lady who lost her sister to a super villain that she had been battling. The poor teenager that’s having a tough time filling in her sister’s shoes.
I am a superhero like my older sister. I tried to fill in her shoes to the best of my ability, but I am not her. I am too angry, a lot less social, and I do not have her famous feminine tact.I really tried to fill her shoes. I saved all of the people that I could, bagged as many super villains and I could. I was always available for helping the other superheroes in the group. The normal people like me, I’m not exactly the same, but I keep them safe. Some of them even like that I am a little more cut throat.
However, the other heroes are a different story entirely. Always asking, ‘Why didn’t you do this?’ ‘Why didn’t you say this instead of that?’ Oh, I don’t know because I am not my sister and have my own personality and way of doing things. Maybe.
When the third anniversary of her death rolled around I buried myself in my work to forget. What I didn’t know was that the other superheroes were holding a ceremony in her honor. I didn’t realize until I got a call for help from another town.
After defeating the baddy there, I stormed into the ceremony. I was the embodiment of unadulterated righteous anger. The doors open angrily and interrupts a speech but I don’t really care.
“You are having a ceremony for my mentor without me? The mentor that fed me, clothed me, gave up her good life for mine, and you dare cut me out of a celebration of her life? I knew you guys treated villains better than the members of your group, but this? This is a low I never thought I would see.”
“Morrigan-” The leader of the group began trying to keep me in line.
“Don’t you start with me. You love to give the appearance that you are in control but why don’t we talk about the Bereni assignment. You know our largest failure in what? 10 years. Did you know that your sidekick passed by help from me? I was on call that day, and no one told me about it. That doesn’t reflect very well, especially when I know how to speak the language and could have given you critically needed information, and all of you knew I spoke that. Also instead of you know asking me why I wasn’t there, like a normal human being. You gave me a verbal tongue-lashing because a few people omitted telling me that my expertise might be needed. How many missions were there people hurt, run by your boy again, that ended in injury that I was on call for. Oh, let’s see 46 in the last year alone. Do you know how many friendships, and possible relationships I’ve passed up because I was on call. Do you want to know what? I’m done with all of you. I wash my hands of this entire business, and all of you. Bye, bye.”
Every person in the room was dead silent as I left. I passed by the shocked faces of fellow superheroes and people, and the happy visages of news reporters glad to get a good story.
I got onto my bike and sped off, when I saw an asshole trying to grab a girl. I broke his arm, 3 ribs, and possibly his jaw. Every single criminal I came across was met with similar damage, and I realized that now the group wouldn’t let me go. So I had to make them let me go, and that would require one thing.
Breaking the unspoken rule of the group: do not kill anyone.
Lucky for me I had just the person. My sister’s killer recently escaped prison, and is gathering followers. He’ll be easy because he won’t expect it. He’s killed a superheroine before because she refused to kill. He won’t think it’s any different.
I speed to my house, where I bought a nice gun when I was left alone after my sister’s death. A good shotgun that I kept in a compartment behind my headboard.
After that I went to his last know whereabouts. He was easy to find, standing above his followers delivering a speech about how great he was to his cronies.
One pump and careful aim at his torso, pulled the trigger and he was down. I left afterwards knowing he was dead, no one can survive that much damage to their head and live.
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