There is a place in the universe that contains the dual properties of being both relatively safe and also extremely enjoyable. A world of costumed heroes, of scientific pioneers pushing the boundaries, a warm world of bright lights, and fascinating stories. From the cosmic darkness of the heart of the Ascendancy of Ygrillon, I heard their stories broadcasted and picked up by our remote sensors. From our cold world orbiting Threrkillarn, the dread star that is both dead and dreaming, I heard of this wondrous place. The planet Earth, where there was a home for all manner of creatures. An intersection of galactic travel, of dimensional portal-networks, and of arcane leylines, it was and still remains a place full of interesting and unusual concepts; which I as a student at the Obsidian Academy of the Primordial Oblivion in the City of Enslaved-Gods could only dream of. And one idea, one story, fascinated me beyond all others, as I turned my unending gaze towards the broadcasts, soothed and awed by its splendour. The superhero. The beings that go beyond the impossible. Those who challenge by their very existence the ideals of entropy and decay, which has ruled my people for centuries.

I went there. I left behind my place in the Choir of Unchained Screams, I cast aside my seat as a Lord in the House of Lamentations, where I and countless others of that noble and ancient house have reigned over the Third Circle of Devastation since the days when our star still shone with living light. I came to Earth, with the intention of joining the ranks of the heroes, those who fight for justice, for righteousness, who unconsciously seek to overturn the end of the universe itself through supplying reality with more hope than it can bear to die with. I arrived in the darkness of the night, my cold-void form still bearing the cosmic scars of that long journey from the Galaxy of the Bleeding Eye, to this, ''Milky Way''. I saw those who were the victims of injustice, in need of salvation through the application of righteous violence upon their malefactors.

I tore through the flimsy construction of that building. Their futile attempts at using mere chemically projected metal bullets, nothing more than a tickle for my ever-shifting void-form. I searched high and low for those who I heard the psychic anguish of, tearing through the floor until I reached a secret basement. Finding there the place where the innocent are kept in cages against their will. With the cold rage of a true hero, I bound the malefactors to experience the most exquisite nightmares, capturing them inside their own frail skulls, until the duly appointed and just authorities would arrive to take them to be judged for their sins. I bound the cages themselves to the unending march of entropy, and dissolved them into rust and ashes, allowing the poor caged men and women the change to escape, as was right and proper. I was ecstatic, to the point that being in my presence would have killed a member of the House of Melancholy from sheer psychic glee.

I had saved my first group of people, like a proper hero. Just like the broadcasts had shown. It had been fun, and far more satisfying than screaming the infinity to stillness in the vastness of time. For the first time in my life I felt like I was doing the right thing. Which was why I was suddenly very confused to be struck with a concentrated beam of raw energy. Light and heat. I shifted my body to avoid the worst of it, but in my elation I had not noticed the encroachment of a being clad in bright colours. A superhero! At first I thought she had merely been confused, but she kept attacking my, her blade trying in vain to cut through my abyssal flesh, shifting like water around the sharpness to avoid destroying what was clearly a cherished weapon. I tried reaching out to her confused mind, wondering if she was perhaps being controlled by anything malicious. But her screams became louder, as she tried to shut me out. I did not want to harm anyone, so rather than let her fire more of her beams from her eyes potentially hitting any civilians, I decided to de-escalate. Heroes are, according to the broadcasts I've seen, a volatile lot, prone to infighting, due to their burning hot tempers. But de-escalating would always make them calm down and think more rationally.

I poured myself into my own confines, turning from an ever-shifting liquid shape, into something more solid. Thus has always been our kinds way to show non-hostile intent. Becoming metal, drinking light around me, in the shape of a mask. The hero stopped, and cautiously approached me. Her warm flesh reached for me, and into her head I spoke with soothing words. She dropped me instantly, but then picked me back up again. She couldn't quite understand what I was, the concept of what I am cannot be fully grasped by mortal minds, and no matter what I tried, she could not see. But when I showed her the broadcasts, she nodded, especially as I placed myself as a mask into the old broadcasts, as I played them inside her mind. I then made her remember what I had done, who I had freed, placed it in her feeble mortal memory system. Gently she put me down, and I reformed into a more proper shape. I could not approach that of the shape of her kindred, but something vaguely the same size was possible, if a little constricting.

''Those old broadcasts, the kidnapped refugees, your refusal to fight... You're nothing like what I expected.''

I tried answering in a way she could deal with. Forming something that could even be used to speak was not beyond me, but translating thoughts into mere soundwaves was not something that came to a species that can share memories, intentions, and desires in a more direct fashion.

''BENEDICTION. COMBAT CESSATION. INTRODUCTIONS. ABYSSAL-OCEAN-VOID-IN-SOUND-OF-EXILE-DREAMS-DARINGLY.''

She blinked curiously. ''That's... your name. Something of a mouthful. My name is, well, my superhero name is Colonel Pacifica. I think you should probably shorten yours, just a bit.'' Her hand reached to her head, where I knew she could feel a migraine. The psychic waves of it, like waves of heat, was something I hadn't expected, but it was quite interesting to see how they would react to something like me. Pain was not something unusual, plenty of it back home. But this felt fresh, and not like the cold and dull suffering I had always known back home from the Screamer-Organs and Howling-Harmonicas. Reaching into her with an invisible tendril of power, I unmade the small growth inside of her skull that seemed to be causing her the suffering. She did not seem to mind.

''DESIGNATION. VOID-EXILE. RUBRIC-TITLE: SUPERHERO.''

She smiled cautiously. ''Uh. Good to meet you, Void-Exile. Welcome to Earth?'' Elation. Joy. Pleasure in the sense of the mind. I was accepted, I was known! I was a Superhero! I evaporated myself into a black mist leaving that location, and I began the righteous work. Perhaps I should have stayed, but there will be time for a team-up in the days to come. Though there was an odd situation on Earth, that the broadcasts had not prepared me for. The heroes would always try to fight me, when I came to the assistance of the innocent and the beleaguered. It was odd, but it kept happening. I would be absorbing the heat of a suddenly erupting volcano, saving the city of Naples, when a team of heroes would arrive to test my mettle in combat. Few of their attacks could do anything to me, of course. Their punches would simply enter the liquid flesh and come out the other side of me, cold. Their swords would bounce or shatter upon me. Their guns did nothing to one such as me.

Usually, I could get them to stop, by holding them tightly in my void-tendrils until I could show them what I was doing. A few did not take it well, but most began to leave me to do the supremely important work. I am of course aware that it was probably xenophobia against extra-terrestrials such as myself. I had taken note of a few others from beyond Earth, drawn in to its light and wonders like insects before the flames. Many of them could take upon themselves the shapes of men, but still they were often treated like outsiders. I found myself relating to that, but it was still worth it all. Sure, there was a lot of ''unhand those innocents vile demon!'' or variations that all felt terrified upon beholding my void-splendour in the liquid flesh. But there were others, those who began to see me for who I am. Those who recognised me as I fought back the dreamstealer-invasion. Who saw me guarding the cities from the hungry vermin that had taken root in humanity's mind; when only the non-Earthborn heroes were saved from losing their minds and souls to the vile clutches of those who wanted to consume mankind's collective mind. A few remembered how my soothing cold body had covered the world, locking the souls away from the enemy's grasp.

Others learned to see me in the night, as I consumed the forever-chemicals from the dirt and water of the world, such delicious corruption was a treat to something like me, but seemingly quite deadly to the beings of Earth. I was dissuaded from calling down the hammer of justice upon those responsible by other heroes, though I only obey that request out of respect; this is not my world of spawning, and thus things must be done according to the laws and customs of heroics here. Those who understood what I was doing, praised me with vigour. And yet others feared me. This is not uncommon. Many are the heroes in the broadcasts who are equally loved and hated. Those who gain infamy from doing good deeds, who in using their abilities committing themselves towards the greater responsibilities, only earned more action to be fought; those good men would go through life, only to be met with scorn and derision from all sides. And yet, it is worth it. To be a superhero.

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