I remember the day the boy's in the schoolyard called me a villain. They said it because I liked wearing dark clothing, and the shadows of my minions wrapped themselves around me. They said it because, the only friends I'd ever had were the strange, mysterious monsters that swam like wraiths through the air, cutting darkness into the very foundation of the universe. Of course I was angry, but that would never excuse attacking another student.

"If you really believe me to be a villain," I started calmly, "Than accost me! Attack me directly, and you will see, that I utterly fail to demean myself to your level. I will not attack back, I will not even deign it upon myself to use defense. Well go on then, go on!" Yet when they refused, I continued, "See? Not even you believe me to be evil! If you truly believed it to be such, within that moment, you would've laid me flat on my ass; yet you didn't," At the time, I should've realized the folly of provoking teenagers.

After I got out of the nurse's office, I was back to standing strong. I had proven my point, as I'd failed to attack them at all. When I got back into class, it was with a smirk on my face. In every way, I was superior to them, and their lowly bullying. Perhaps if I didn't already have minions, I might've thought about taking them along.

It was my sixteenth birthday, that I was gifted with a suit of my own. It came from my Grandpa, who'd been a supervillain in his own time. I didn't approve of his methods, or his allegiance, but the suit was rather splendidly done, and fitting of my countenance. I thanked him dearly, and then he tried to kill me. Mom didn't let him come over after that (I still visited in secret).

Dad was the one that got me the cape, it was designed after his superhero identity, and gave a light homage, whilst still being dark, with beautiful blood-red streaks along the sides. When I thanked him, he didn't try to kill me, and I was mildly disappointed; he didn't even think me worth the effort, or perhaps I still had a high ladder to climb.

Graduation came, and I finally got to make my debut. It was during the valedictorian speech (which, of course, was mine), that the gigantic mech robot descended. Only moments were needed to put on my suit, and my wraith-like minions flew from the sky ahead. They had been rising in numbers after I'd looted the graveyard (and why nobody had told me that they actually kept corpses there, I'll never understand; I didn't figure it out until grandpa). Before the mech could attack any of the innocent civilians, my army rained from above, attacking multiple different angles of the monster. Then, with a flip of a switch, my jet boots activated, and I soared forwards. Every superhero should have the finesse that I do, but sadly, they all rely too much on their abilities.

As I flew over the monster, I powered up my favorite superpower, the one that I'd gotten from mom and dad. They called it the Laser Ray, I call it the Demonic Wave. As my palm raises, dark tendrils shoot outwards, mimicking a laser as they slam into the gigantic robot. That, combined with my phantoms, keeps the destruction from hurting any of the people down below. Mom and dad are standing below, each of them giving me a thumb-up. I smile inside of my mask, before scolding myself. I'm not allowed to look happy in-front of them; they know this and accept it.

To my surprise, the people actually like me. Unfortunately for me, this means that I need to change my entire strategy. Mom and dad had grilled me in the publicity of hero life, and I knew that if the people enjoyed my presence, I would need to change the way that I market.

It's with an annoyed sigh that I get hugged by my parents, and even more annoyed sigh when I have to confront the people with microphones. Life...Just decided to become a whole lot harder.

Take Your Best Shot

Spot Shot strode confidently into Paul's Piano Bar in the heart of Star City, his entourage in tow. An arrogant aura surrounded him, he believed he was on his way to be congratulated for the heroic deed he did as a favor for Detective Falcona. Favor might be putting it generously, he did it so she didn't leak the private video she had of him on twitter. His designer urban fatigues were dripping, his golden aviator shades framed his handsome face, long blond hair flowed behind him.

His entourage pushed the crowd apart, Spot Shot signed a few autographs. Took a few selfies with some of the nicer looking women in the joint. His revelry was cut short by Detective Falcona dragging him by his ear to the back booth, glass of scotch and a martini already on it. She forcefully shoved him into the booth. She scanned his entourage, pointing at Spot Shot's bodyguard. Mountain of a man, easily two eighty, looked like he could crash through a brick wall with ease. "Take the rest of your little playgroup outside and wait. This shouldn't take long." She growled. Spot Shot's entourage left without protest.

Falcona plopped down on the opposite side of the booth. She sneered at the man across from her. Fire raged behind ice blue eyes. Spot flashed his winning smile, his social awareness needed work, hard for him to read a room. He picked up the martini glass in front of him.

"This is top shelf right?" He asked snootily. Falcona gently put her hand on top of his glass, placing it back down on the table, a hard slap across Shot's face followed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Stuart?" Falcona asked, she never used the real name of a super or schmuck unless she was real pissed.

Stuart rubbed his cheek, popping his jaw back into place. "That fucking hurt! Thought I was going to get a reward for helping you out. If that's your idea of a reward I would hate to see how you punish people. Probably do worse than me." He groaned out.

"I don't reward idiocy! I asked you to babysit Mason Maniacal for two days so I could see who Queen Bee went to for help locating him. I didn't have the full picture on her criminal network, now I do. What I didn't need was Mason coming back with severe psychological damage!" Falcona gulped down her scotch, still staring a hole through Stu.

"Coming from someone who's a master of the dramatic monologue, you're being a little over the top with that. Mason Maniacal is an evil man, I found out a lot about him. He was already crazy, I didn't do anything that bad to him." Stuart sipped his martini, chuckling to himself about how weak Maniacal's squad of goons was. He planned on poaching them, adding them to the crew, turn them to his unique brand of superheroism.

Another slap to Stuarts other cheek snapped him back to the conversation. Falcona's hands were shaking. "You made him play Russian roulette on the hour, every hour of his captivity! Ain't you ever seen 'The Deer Hunter' that does shit to a person's mind!" She yelled angrily.

Stuart shook the slap off. "I don't watch old movies, only tik tok vids nowadays. The gun wasn't real, he wasn't in any danger. It was hilarious watching him squirm. He even pissed his pants a few times."

Falcona restrained herself from choking him right then and there. She took a deep breathe. "Don't matter if it was real or not, he believed it was. Mind over matter, all that shit. He's paranoid now.....real paranoid. Hard to keep a person like that in line, they tend to not listen to reason. Word on the street is he's gathering up a bunch of meat shields, use up all the bullets on them, since you never miss a shot, hopes you'll run out of ammo first."

Stuart puffed his chest out. "Let him. I need the target practice."

A sly smile crossed Falcona's thin lips. "I'm glad you said that, maybe we are on the same page." A sinister laugh swirled with the smoke in the air.

Stuart cocked his head. "I don't follow."

Falcona winked at him. "Mason now knows your real name, and where you live, and where your hideout is, and where your backup hideout is."

Stuart's eyes widened. "How does he know that?"

"I called him right before you walked in the door. I can't afford any more screwups from you Stu. You're a loose cannon. Seems to me like you ain't got too many friends in the super community, even if you did they would still throw you to the schmucks to cover their own asses. Least I gave you a head start."

Stuart looked around nervously, his breathing heavy. "You bitch, you can't do this to me! I won't let you get away with this."

Falcona waved her cellphone at him. "I also took the liberty of posting that video I got my hands on. You're into some weird stuff kid, might want to speak with a professional about that. In my professional opinion, I'd suggest running. Don't ever let me see you around Star City ever again."

Stuart shot up out of the booth. He gave Falcona the finger guns. "You'll rue the day you crossed me."

"Kiddo that ain't even the first time I've heard that today. The longer you stand there the more time you're wasting. Hit the bricks." Falcona shot a finger pistol back at Stu. He left in a huff, didn't pay for his drink. Cheapskate.

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