“State your name for the record, please.”
“For you? Sovereign.”
“Your real name, please.”
“… Fine, Elizabeth Aubrey.”
I roll my eyes at the interviewer. I don’t try to strain against the skin-tight bindings around my body or the metal collar around my neck. I understand my position and what time it is. It was time to pick the brain of the mass murderer.
“Hello, Miss Aubrey, my name is Andrew Asimov.”
He rubs his eyes before placing a tape recorder on the table between us. The room is dimly lit by surgical white lights, and the door behind him is guarded by two humans.
“I’ve come here today to get your full story. The story of the first superhuman, the first hero, the first villain, and the one who changed the world.”
“Did you come here to suck me off or ask questions?”
“… Perhaps I should just skip to my point. My employers want to hear what happened to turn you into… whatever you are. Then we’ll go from there for the sake of the record. Afterward, you will be… executed.”
“Sounds boring, but there’s nothing else to do here. So, why not?”
“Then Miss Aubrey, you may begin.”
He presses record on the tape and I begin the tale from the beginning.
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.
With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility.
Truth, Justice, and the American Way.
Heroes and legends of books are what banished the shadows of my mind when I was a child. They taught me that good always win in the end and that humans are inherently good. That the dark can be fought and its reign was only temporary.
Oh, how reality made sure to beat a different truth into me. I was 19, trying to lose myself in the new issue of Ultra-Man. However, the once pristine pages crumbled under my rough handling. I couldn’t help it; the sounds above boiled my blood, even when I tried so hard to turn it into ice.
Another howl of anguish and the sound of unjust beatings. How dare I sit there in peace while an innocent dog is being beaten to an inch of her life? Because I was told to. Because the crazy woman upstairs could turn her wrath on us.
Excuses, just excuses born out of fear. My eyes glided over the page, trying to focus on what’s in front of me. It showed Ultra-Man saving the day and defeating the bad guys once again.
Another howl and the page was torn out. Clearly, I needed to take a walk. I set the book down and grabbed my earbuds along with my phone. I left the room and tried to sneak out. But my mother and aunt seemed to know whenever I tried to escape.
“Liza? Where are you going?”
“Just out, Aunt Cassie.”
“Don’t you have chores to do?”
“Give your daughter a break, Jessie. It’s the weekend; I’ll handle it for today.”
“You’re too easy on her. She’s about to graduate soon and will have to deal with this when she moves out.”
They were so eager to get rid of me. Cassie hid it well, but I knew she was also tired of me. I clicked my tongue and grabbed my purple hoodie.
“Be back before dark, okay?”
“I will, Aunt Cassie. Don’t worry.”
I kept my back turned away from them and the TV their were watching. I didn’t need to see Cassie’s false pity and my mother’s indifference. I didn’t need to hear the next atrocity parroted on the news media. I’d rather listen to the birds sing their sweet songs.
But as I left the building and took in the cold winter air, I remembered where I was. A nondescript urban landscape. Nothing but looming glass giants as far as the eye can see. What self-respecting bird would sing here? The screeching tires and the stench of gasoline would drive them away.
Heck, this hell would drive any human away. But it’s not like most of us had a choice but to hide in these steel boxes. It could have been due to a lack of money, a twisted version of Stockholm Syndrome, or effective propaganda. It didn’t matter; the web caught us all in its slowly boiling web.
But unlike the stories I read, there are no heroes of the night to shine a light to a better future. Evil was not concentrated in a few villains but engraved into the very bones of the earth.
Another howl, and I picked up my pace. Any place would be better than here. I let my legs take me to the only place that seemed to offer solace to weary souls. The park, though abandoned, was a warm island within a hailstorm. Maybe it’s because it symbolized what was once innocent and full of life.
Kids used to play there, and their energy still lingers. Desperate for that distant past, I sat on the only working swing. It was weak, barely hanging, but still, it held on. I admired it for that.
I didn’t wish to overtax it, so I just sat down and relaxed. I let the cold breeze caress me like a mom should. I could have stayed like that until the night descended upon me. But my eyes caught sight of a purple butterfly. It was mesmerizing and more beautiful than anything in that city. It flew, and my eyes followed; eventually, it moved across a particular billboard.
It showed Ultra-Man, but not the one I knew. It’s a more grim and darker interpretation of the iconic hero, all for the next movie. Removed were his bright colors and hopeful smile. Instead, his colors were dead, and his eyes were tired…defeated.
I wouldn’t dare watch such a travesty. Why are the hopeful beaten into submission? Why must the ideal reflect our broken world?
“Broken…”
Yes, our world is broken, and it was like that long before I came onto the stage. I lifted my hands and clenched until my palms turned red. Who would choose to live in a broken world? The answer is no one.
The question should become, who benefits? I thought back to the woman who made it a habit to beat her dog. Then my mind thought about the various men and women who seem to take pleasure in robbing others of their happiness, all to increase theirs.
“Parasites…”
But then my mother’s words came to mind.
“Keep to your lane. Don’t rock the boat. You have no power to change anything. Leave it in God’s hands.”
But I fail to see his hand, and the boat was sinking. Once again, I gazed at the movie poster. I looked past how he looks now and saw the essence of the hero.
“What would you do?”
He didn’t answer. He’s not real after all. But I could imagine. He’d save the world. With unflinching determination, strength, and inspirational charisma, he would march ever forward. So one day we too can stand under the sun with the rest of the heroes. So one day, the flock would escape the shadowy cave.
But I lived in a reality where heroes didn’t exist yet, so only corruption remained. I got up and began the long walk home. But something happened that would change the course of history forever. In one of the many alleys of my city, I saw a mugging. Some drunk old man was robbing a woman.
That wasn’t the crazy part. It was everyone else.
I knew for a fact that they could hear her cries for help. I knew for a fact that they could help but chose not to. Why? Besides the obvious bystander effect, it was the same thing my mother repeated until my ears bled the words out.
“Keep to your lane. Don’t rock the boat. You have no power to change anything. Leave it in God’s hands.”
If not God’s hands, then in someone else’s hands. I want to be like the rest of them, capable of ignoring what was in front of me. I wanted to be able to stomach the sin being committed before me. But I couldn’t; I simply couldn’t do it.
So I did what any goody-two-shoes would do; I charged into the fray. Now, even then I wasn’t some dumb bimbo. I wasn’t going to stop and talk like the Red Blur tended to do. I punched the old man and helped the woman get away. I wanted to get away too, but the old man got me.
“Now, Andrew, what do you think happened next?”
“I assume you fought back and defeated the old man. I doubt you were weak enough to-”
“To be violated and used? You would be incorrect.”
“… What?”
“You heard me.”
“Miss Aubrey, if you don’t want to speak on it, I’ll under-”
“No, don’t be shy now. You wanted the full story; here it is in all its vile glory.”
He raped me. True, I fought back and screamed for help. But I simply took that woman’s place. No one helped me; no one tried. I rocked the boat and left my lane. I didn’t let God deal with it. I got what I deserved.
When I understood that, I accepted the situation and waited for it to be over. When it was, he ran away after saying how sorry he was. A few minutes later, still scared stiff from the experience, the cops showed up. That’s when I learned, that the cops of my city weren’t there to stop crime, but to clean up the aftermath.
They took my statement and promised to search for the one who did such vile things to me. I didn’t care to listen to much else; I knew he probably wouldn’t be caught. Even if he were, it wouldn’t change a thing. Not for me, or the next victim. There was also another one.
After that, I was sent home and got the expected reaction.
“I bet your family was worried sick about you.”
I smiled bitterly at silly little Andrew.
“Didn’t seem that way at the time.”
They were mostly upset that I got myself in the situation in the first place. After getting everything they wanted to say out of the way, then they expressed concern. But my mind blocked it out. What sticks is the yelling and accusations from my mother.
“Should have stayed in your lane. Why didn’t you listen to me? You never listen, and this is why these things happen. You to learn obedience.”
Obey.
Obey.
Obey.
Message received loud and clear, move to their tune or face consequences. Would you believe that I thought they somehow caused the whole situation to happen? That they paid that old man to violate me if I tried to help that poor woman. If not them, then God himself did it. But I know now that isn’t the case. But back then, I was terrified and worried for my future.
So that night, under the smog-covered sky and assaulted by the whimpers of the dog upstairs, I prayed. I prayed for salvation and the ability to survive in this world. I prayed that I didn’t have to go through what I went through again. After that, I wept for the last time.
“Now, for what I’m sure you have been waiting for, the origin of my abilities.”
“Yes, my employers, and even the rest of the world, would like to know.”
“Well, my dear Andrew, I’m sorry to say, but I don’t know either.”
“How is that possible?”
“It’s a mystery for the ages. The one thing you all don’t know about little old me.”
“Then when did you-”
“The next morning, I just felt it.”
There was no lightning bolt or shining light to proclaim to the world that their savior had arrived. I woke up, and I knew something was different. It’s hard to explain to something like you, Andrew. You could never understand what it’s like to be one of us. The whole world felt more alive than it ever did, as if I truly saw it for what it was.
Immediately, I thought that God had gifted me with something. I was still a kid, so forgive me for trying everything that I read in comic books. Sadly, the classic powers weren’t mine to play with. Instead, I was given a greater control of my body.
With little practice, I could change my color and optimize my muscles. I was stronger, faster, and more aware of my surroundings. I was human, in the truest sense of the word.
“And what was the first thing that came to mind when you figured out you had superpowers?”
“You expect me to say I went mad. That I was always the villain you paint me as.”
“You are a villain.”
“To your story perhaps, but not to the story of humanity.”
My first thought was that I could help people. I could become the hero I only read about in comics. I could fight off drunken men and inspire others to change for the better. I could and would be the first hero.
When I heard the beatings upstairs, I almost bolted for the door. But that same message echoed in my head.
“Keep to your lane. Don’t rock the boat. You have no power to change anything. Leave it in God’s hands.”
But I did have the power now, didn’t I? It came from God, didn’t it? Despite those thoughts, the conditioning stuck, and I was frozen in place. I didn’t want to get in trouble again. I didn’t want to end up in that situation again. Never again.
I was only free from the spell when my aunt came to my room. The old woman wanted me down for breakfast. We both flinched when a loud smack was heard, followed by a wail of pain. Unlike me, though, Cassie moved past it like it didn’t just happen.
While eating, I tried to ignore the dog above like everyone. Watch the bad news of the day and fade into the system. But how could I do that now? I have something special; I can stop it now. I could feel the power in my veins waiting to burst out, and I was eager to let it loose.
It’s true, I was a bit reckless at the time. Good thing Cassie got to me first, or I might have done things out of order.
So, I ate my breakfast and went back into my room to practice. I need a costume; every hero needs a costume. Lucky for me, I quickly learned that I could replicate clothes as long as they were connected to my skin. So I just needed to imagine it and will my body to produce the effect. I had to do this while naked, but the results spoke for themselves.
“Yeah, I… really liked your hero costume.”
“Oh? Were you perhaps a fan? Let me guess, you had lewd posters of me, didn’t you?”
The poor, blushing interviewer rubs his eyes again before answering. I smile.
“N-No, I didn’t have l-lewd posters. But I’m not ashamed to admit that I was a fan; you were a comic book hero come to life. I… really admired you.”
“And now?”
“I can only feel pity. Which is why I want to hear your story, to see where everything went wrong.”
“Ah, but you see, nothing went wrong.”
“How can you say that!? After everything you’ve done…”
“Relax, you’ll understand when the play comes to an end.”
Using that purple butterfly as inspiration, I created my classic costume.
It was a vision of elegance and quiet power, a bodysuit colored a deep purple traced with golden filigree. Its patterns mimicked the soft veins of butterfly wings. Speaking of wings, I created them to look like a cape with dusk-colored hues. Finally, my mask was regal and sharp with glowing violet eyes.
After turning into it a few times, I was ready for my first heroic act. I told my handlers that I was going out for a walk and left the apartment. I carefully made my way upstairs, making sure nothing and no one saw me. When I was ready, I transformed into my hero costume and kicked down the door.
“Stop right there, criminal scum!”
Yep, I really said that.
“Wait, really?”
“I wanted to be as authentic to the hero image as possible. Besides, if beating an innocent animal isn’t a crime, then I don’t know what is.”
Not surprising anyone, the woman was about to beat the poor animal again. Why? I could smell why; she pissed itself because she wouldn’t allow her to leave. Cage it up and then beat it for being a living creature. Disgusting.
I won’t lie; despite my now near-perfect memory, I don’t remember much about what happened. I assume I lost control and beat the woman like she beat her dog, brutally. The next thing I knew, I was standing over her bloody and broken body. The sight startled me, but not for the reasons you might think.
The rush of doing something good, the sense of power and freedom, but more than that, the pain I inflicted on that parasite. It felt… euphoric.
“So, this is where it started. I didn’t know this was your first outing as a hero.”
“Happy to burst your bubble, but no, this is not where I embraced myself.”
“You just said you liked inflicting pain on that woman.”
“Yes, and I’m sure Ultra-Man likes flying and shooting lasers out of his eyes; it doesn’t mean he does it all the time or indulges in it. The same was, and in some respects still is, true for me.”
Sure, I liked the feeling of blood on my knuckles. I loved the feeling of showing parasites their place. But that wasn’t heroic, so I curbed that feeling. Sadism had no place in the life of a hero. It can cause many problems.
Besides, this is not the type of scene a hero should be seen in. So, I needed to make this problem disappear. And no, I didn’t kill the woman. I wasn’t that far… into my enlightenment phase. Instead, I helped the dog escape its cage and transformed back to normal.
I called the police and simply told them that I noticed the door was kicked open and found the scene like that. I was in the clear, and it felt satisfying. Bad guy dealt with no problem. A good start.
“What about fingerprints?”
“Silly Andrew, you know good and well my body doesn’t leave such markers anymore.”
“Oh yes, how silly of me.”
“That’s why you’re silly Andrew. Now, the next part of the story you know well. You’re a fan after all. Do you really want me to tell it?”
“Not everyone does, so yes please.”
I sigh but accept. When Andrew began to cough, I knew it was time to continue.
Well, the next step of the plan was to prepare for my proper debut. But the question became how. What makes a good hero? What kind of hero did I want to be and how should I show this to people?
I was naive and simple back then. A good hero brought hope, fought the bad guys, and always defeated evil. I wanted to be a hero who inspired others to act, who helped those in need. Heck, this is when I came up with the idea for the hero group, Honey Comb. But to do that, I had to conceal my powers.
“Oh yeah, I always wondered about that. Why did you do that?”
The reason for it was simple; fear. You fear what you don’t understand, the unknown. I don’t know how Ultra-Man did it, but I knew I wasn’t him. If I came in using superpowers, I was more likely to be dissected than welcomed with open arms. So I decided then to hide them and only use the bare minimum.
Good thing I wasn’t too stupid, I still practiced on my off time. So for the next two weeks, I trained my powers. Transforming into animals, turning my body into different metals, creating organic weapons and poisons. I exploded my body’s upper limits while making sure to save time for nightly patrols.
“Man, how did you find time to sleep?”
“I didn’t need to sleep anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Now don’t look at me like that; despite my powers, I’m still human.”
“… Are you?”
“Yes. Of that, I have no doubt.”
Eventually, I found someone trying to break into someone’s car. I don’t care to remember who they were, but I do remember the thrill I felt when I saw him. It wasn’t because I was finally going to become a hero or the feeling of escaping my dull every day. It wasn’t adrenaline either; those were just excuses I thought of back then.
No, the real reason was that I finally had an excuse to hurt some bad guy. Not very heroic, is it? I disagree; as long as the villain is defeated, who cares if I take pleasure in causing them pain? As long as I don’t go too far, right?
“But… how far is too far?”
“Depends on the person and their sin.”
“So you decide?”
“Who else should? I’m the one dealing out the punishment. Besides, the people agreed with me at the time. I have long accepted that part of me, you won’t shame me for it.”
Anyway, I chased away the robber from the car and the person inside. I could have let him go and checked on the guy whose life could have been in danger. I could have called the cops and given the description of the criminal. But I didn’t; instead, I chased the guy two blocks before knocking him to the ground.
I took the law into my own more capable hands. And you know what? People loved me for it. I did the right thing. You know the story, right, Andrew? This was the start of my rise to fame.
“I would argue that it was the start of your fall from grace.”
“Into grace perhaps.”
“You’re in jail, awaiting the death penalty.”
“… Andrew, does the government really have something that can kill me?”
“You know good and well who will be the one to bring your story to a close.”
I suppress my growl of annoyance and disappointment. Of course, they would burden him with that. Someone like that, who managed to keep his hands clean despite everything, deserves better. I take a breath and continue with my tale.
“Where was I, oh yes! The news coverage.”
The person I saved that day didn’t stay silent. How could he? I was a real-life superhero, dressed up in a very attractive outfit that left little to the imagination. I was the talk of the city and was invited to talk shows and news outlets.
At first, I wasn’t very interested. Heroes aren’t supposed to do such things. I’m not some attention-seeking whore, despite what my outfit might suggest. So I ignored all invitations and continued my nightly patrols. Surface crime was scarce, but I did what I could.
I fought the bad guys and left them for the cops to collect. It was a good time, and I was having fun. Yes, fun; I was living my dream and helping those in need. I would never show it to my handlers, but a smile rarely left my face. I forgot my powers, my sadism, they didn’t matter anymore.
I was a hero, and I was… happy. But those are two things the world seems to hate more than anything. A genuine hero and those happy. If there must be a point where things took a turn for the… different, it was when I broke up a fight.
“I remember this, but it wasn’t a fight. It was just a gathering of-”
“No. I don’t care what those little ingrates said, they were one step away from a mini-gang war. I stopped them before someone could draw a gun or knife and hurt someone.”
I can tell silly Andrew wanted to say more, but a coughing fit caught his tongue. So instead, I continued the tale while trying to remain calm.
I will admit, maybe I broke a nose or two more than I should have. Can you blame me? I haven’t had a reason to use my powers in a while, and this seemed like a good chance to let loose, just a tiny bit. Regardless, I was not in the wrong. But the witless masses didn’t care; they listened to the poor teenagers and young adults.
They said nothing was going on, that they were just having a small argument before some masked woman started beating them up. Thanks to my popularity and apology for the mistake, I was let out of jail on bail, and no charges were pressed. However, that was only if I revealed my identity to the police and the public.
I sat in that cold jail cell for two long hours. I knew I could break out anytime I wanted, but I also knew I shouldn’t. A true hero wouldn’t do that, and I knew my powers would scare the rest of my fans away. But Andrew, you and I know that a hero should never reveal their identity to the public. The worst Louise Locker, Web-Sister, comic issue proved that point.
But I had little choice, and I rationalized it as trying to win the police’s and public’s trust. It would make my work so much simpler if they were on my side. Besides, the best heroes had them on their side, and there were no evil newspaper companies after me. So, with a heavy heart, I agreed to the press conference.
The next day, I was released and brought before the world. After all, the first real-life superhero was worthy news. Maybe not everyone was watching, but enough to make me a bit nervous.
“You, nervous?”
“May I remind you, this was my first time in front of a camera, and I was still mentally a 19-year-old.”
His face paled when I reminded him about my more… questionable abilities. After he rubbed his eyes again and coughed, I continued.
They asked me basic questions first, mostly to hear my voice. Things like my recent exploits and how I was feeling. Didn’t take long for them to request I remove my mask. As long as the mask stayed attached to my hand, I could remove it as if it was a mask and not a second layer of skin.
When my new face was revealed, I was happy to see their stunned reaction. I’m sure they didn’t expect to see such a beauty.
“I’ll say, I was blown away by how beautiful you were. But what do you mean by new face?”
“You think I always looked this attractive? Of course, I wasn’t. I was your average plain Jane. But every night after I got my powers, I aimed to perfect my face.”
“Why?”
“… You didn’t just ask that.”
“… Sorry. But what about your family? Don’t they know what you really look like?”
“Yes and I dealt with it.”
“You don’t mean-”
“No! But I…”
I shake my head; I won’t feel regret for my actions. They deserved worse fates. Right? Yes, of course, they did. They both did.
“I’ll get to it. Now be quiet.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy, you’re growing well.”
Anyway, my new fair-skinned face was a masterpiece; flawless, striking, and undeniably captivating. Long waves of dark, tulip hair framed high cheekbones and my sculpted jawline. My eyes were ocean blue, impossibly clear, and piercing. I knew I had them with my looks; my words would seal the deal.
“Hi everyone, my name is Elizabeth Aubrey, and I’m just like everyone else. Maybe not in looks, but in lifestyle. I’m not rich, and I live a normal life. That is until I decided I wanted to make a difference, a real difference, by stopping crime in my city. I wanted to be a hero, like the ones I so admire in the comics I love.”
They were stunned. I was so humble despite my looks and even read comics; I knew the boys were immediately sold with that one. But more than that, it was my conviction. My true and honest desire to do good in this world that caught their attention. At least, that’s what I hoped.
The interview went smoothly from there. I answered all questions and made sure to come across as approachable as possible. I had to hide where I got my suit from, though.
“A magician never reveals her secrets.”
Then there were the questions about my age. I was just a teenager. How could my parents approve of this?
“They don’t know. Well, they probably know now. But I won’t let that stop me. Heroes in comics are teenagers; why can’t I be?”
“But this is real life. You can get hurt.”
“Maybe, but my life isn’t more important than anyone else’s. If I can make a difference, then I will. Next question.”
Moving on from there, I focused on less challenging questions. Like, how can I be so strong or good at fighting? They can’t learn about my powers and their many benefits. But out of the question, there was one that actually meant something to me.
“Excuse me, Miss Aubrey.”
“Yes?”
“We all appreciate you fighting crime and helping the police, but if you really wanted to help, why don’t you also help in other ways?”
“Like?”
“The soup kitchens, politics, community programs or even getting a government job.”
I might have been 19, but even I knew that politics wouldn’t help anyone. It would most likely make things worse. But some of those ideas are pretty good. Why didn’t comic heroes do that?
I knew the answer; it was because that wouldn’t sell. People wanted to see action and conflict, not actual solutions to problems. So that’s when I decided, I would be better than the heroes of the comics, I will be a real hero. I won’t be a slave to some editor or fickle audience; I will actually save the world. One poor soul at a time.
“You know, the more I listen, the more I question how you fell? You sound-”
“Like a hero? Like someone who wants to help humanity and the Earth? Just because I had the will to do what was necessary doesn’t change what I am, a hero.”
“A hero doesn’t kill millions.”
“I didn’t kill millions, not humans anyway.”
“What!? What do you mean!? What are you talking about!?”
“Ooooh, I see little Andrew is upset.”
“Any decent person would be. You’re disregarding the loss of millions of lives!”
“…By the end of this story, you’ll understand everything. Maybe you’ll even agree with me.”
Besides, I made sure to spare kids and the unfortunate at least. They could be taught to be better. But I won’t tell Andrew that, he’ll just say I’m indoctrinating them.
“I don’t think I will…”
I smiled at him and continued my tale. Time moved pretty fast after the interview. I continued to stop minor crimes, help out at soup kitchens and orphanages, and even teach the less fortunate the skills I did know. For example, did you know some people don’t know how to properly use a computer? It’s crazy.
This was also around the time when I earned my superhero name, Monarch Butterfly. I loved it and embraced those who supported me so much. My family, however-
“Why didn’t you tell us!?”
“We were so worried, Liza.”
“And what happened to your face!”
“Are you okay?”
Nothing but false pity and anger. I kept silent and let them get it all out. I knew this would happen, and I had ideas on how to deal with it. But my choice was made when my mother decided it was a good idea to take advantage of this situation.
“Elizabeth, why aren’t you saying anything? You know what? It doesn’t matter. Do you plan on sharing the rewards?”
“Jessie!”
“What? We all know she’s doing this just to get attention or money. I mean, look at her new face! That isn’t natural, but who cares!? Imagine the possibilities; she can change how she looks. Can you do anything else, Elizabeth?”
“Is that all I am to you, a possible paycheck and ticket to stardom?”
“No, but you should pay us back for raising you all these years.”
“Jessie! Liza, she doesn’t mean that. You don’t have to-”
“It’s… fine, Aunt Cassie, I want to help. In fact, I have something to show you two.”
I couldn’t have them revealing my powers to the world, and I know my mother loved to gossip. So I led them upstairs and knocked them out before… conducting memory experiments. It was my first time attempting to manipulate another person’s body, but the skill came to me naturally. It took some time, but I successfully made them think I always had this face.
“Miss Aubrey, can you really say that’s what a hero would have done?”
“If it means preventing something worse, yes.”
“Like them falling into a coma due to brain damage?”
“Perhaps I failed one too many times that day. We all make mistakes.”
“So you have no regrets? None?”
“Should I? What’s done is done.”
“Then… why did you keep your Aunt at your safe house? Why try so hard to save-”
Another terrible coughing fit allowed me to continue with the story, the climax and end of the golden age, as some would put it. My popularity and name grew at a steady pace, enough to inspire others to become heroes like me. Together, we formed the Honey Comb and protected the city from threats. If not that, we simply helped the common folk.
Sure, some still thought we were just silly kids playing around. But those fools were silenced by my supporters. That was until my group ran into our first real battle. Before then, we only fought thieves and helped feed the homeless. That night, though, we had to deal with gang violence.
I won’t lie, Andrew, I was… scared. I knew I had powers and could probably take a bullet, but this was the first time I faced real death before. I… froze. I should have moved to stop the shootout myself or called the police. Anything to prevent the violence from spreading out into more populated areas or causing collateral damage.
But instead, one of my children charged in. His name was Joshua, and he was a true hero. He wanted to prove himself by getting the few civilians stuck in the crossfire out. He succeeded… until he didn’t. He caught a stray bullet and hit the ground, blood spilling onto the concrete. The world didn’t stop for him; the violence continued while we stood stunned.
I failed.
The chaos stopped soon after when the police finally decided to show up and scatter the gangs. If they were a bit quicker, and took their job more seriously, Joshua would still be alive. But they are not the only ones to blame. I should have done more, because I am more.
With great power, comes great responsibility.
I had great power, and I refused to use it. Why? Because I don’t want to scare everyone. I don’t want to be taken and experimented on for profit. I was selfish and scared. I felt… disgusted with myself. I might as well have killed that boy myself.
But because of that, someone died. That’s when I thought seriously about using my powers openly. No more subtle healing or super strength. No, I would use everything at my disposal.
After all, wasn’t it the right thing to do? A hero shouldn’t concern themselves about the masses’ fear. As long as they were safe and protected. So I was prepared to reveal my powers, gradually at first, but enough to show that I am capable of making a real difference. That I can save the next Joshua.
However, almost immediately after that day, nearly everyone turned on me. Those that looked down on me and hated me finally had ammo to fire. The mindless cattle saw the shifting tide and so turned their back on me. Even some of my own abandoned me because of Joshua’s death or cowardice.
All of this was headed by some pompous internet personality named Alexis Aurora. She called me childish, a nuisance, and a harmful failure that led to someone’s death. I agree with the latter, but am disgusted with the former. But it didn’t matter; the vast majority agreed with her.
It got even worse after that. More manufactured drama and false accusations bombarded me. The soup kitchens and orphanage locked their doors. How could I possibly reveal my secret now? It would only make things worse.
What was going on? I knew the world wasn’t a comic book, but I still, deep down, believed in the common good of humanity. I wanted to believe. But time and time again, I was proven wrong. They questioned my morals, my bravery, and some even attempted to fight me on the street.
The biggest blow was my mother and aunt. Shockingly, they stood by me. Mom due to thinking I’d bounce back and my aunt due to… false pity, that’s right, false pity. She played the kind one, but I saw the way she looked at me, like a burden. She was just as bad as my mom; I know she was.
Despite that, though, my previous inexperience cost me. My memory manipulations damaged their brain and put them into a coma. I was alone, truly this time. If only I had mastered it sooner. If only I embraced my powers sooner.
Is this how heroism is repaid? After everything I’ve done, was this my reward for all my sacrifices? Months go by, and I continued helping where I could despite constant setbacks. Eventually, I finally realized my mistake when I saw the state of my city.
Nothing had changed.
I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help and be a hero that can inspire others to be better. The world wasn’t a comic book; therefore I thought it wouldn’t be stuck in a constant cycle of violence. Things could get better; humans had the freedom to achieve that. But it didn’t, and it wouldn’t.
“Do you know why it doesn’t get better, Andrew?”
He’s still coughing, the poor man. He barely hears me over his sore throat. Even still, he answers me.
“W-Why?”
“Because I didn’t have the will. Because I didn’t know the truth.”
“T-Truth?”
“You’re not human. None of you are.”
“Wha-”
His coughing returns as I exude more of my suffocating presence. I continue.
“Humans are truly kind and understanding. Humans are special and can achieve great things. But above all else, humans have free will and the desire to be better. But you… things… are sheep, parasites. No, less than that even. I can barely stand to look upon you.”
I remember when I first received that revelation and walked the path of peace. The humans who stood by me, I rewarded. No longer restrained, I morphed my Honey Comb into their true forms. I didn’t change bodies; I revealed what was within. My Honey Comb was transformed into the Chrysalis Order.
My declaration was decisive and quick. If I was to make a real difference, to save humanity, I had to cull the parasites. First, I dealt with the gangs of my city. I will admit, I was a bit hesitant to take my first life. But when saw the trapped woman in their hideouts, it was easy to make the switch. After the first kill, it didn’t matter anymore. I saw them for what they were, not human.
But I can’t lie; I also loved doing it. This is the real world; the no-killing rule won’t save humanity. A real hero doesn’t let evil fester and grow, infecting the very system that is suppose to imprison them. They don’t wait for God to resolve the situation; they do it themselves. So I did, and there’s no shame in enjoying the process.
After the gangs, I went after the bystanders, then the manipulators, then the sheep, and then finally, the people in power. I will not bore you with my exalted march; it will be in the history books before long. Cities fell to the real me, Sovereign. Nations too would have fallen in time, if not for a small problem. The little brother of Joshua, Baron, disagreed with what I was doing. I… tried to explain that we were in the right. That this was the heroic thing to do.
“This isn’t right, Liza. We… committing genocide. What hero does that!?”
“Baron, what do you think a hero is? What they should do?”
“A hero is supposed to help people, not slaughter them!”
“Close, but no. A hero is supposed to save people, humanity specifically. To inspire others to be better, to be more. To make the world a better place. I say I’m succeeding in my purpose.”
“How is this better? How is killing people okay!?”
“What we’re killing aren’t people, not real humans. Humans wouldn’t destroy their homes or enjoy seeing their heroes torn down. They wouldn’t tolerate sin and say good is evil and evil is good. Once the dust settles, you will see the sun shining on a better world. Please… trust me, Baron.”
“… You lost my trust the day you first took a life with a smile on your face.”
And so we came to blows, and I lost. I admire his naivety and even hope it works out for him. But I see it now; he will just be another pawn in someone else’s game. Nothing will truly change or get better. The status quo will bounce back to normal without me.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
I look at the shaking and sickly-looking Andrew. I’m sure he’s figured out something is wrong at this point.
“W-What… did you do to me? Why am I… coughing so hard… why is it so hard to breath? You shouldn’t be… able to poison me.”
“There is no poison, silly Andrew. What you’re feeling is fear. Even in this bodily prison, you understand your place. But I did implant something in you, ward spiders eggs. Now hatched and entrenched underneath your eyes.”
I can see him, realizing that I was just playing with him and his handlers. I was never trapped or locked up here. My body is too evolved for that. He screams, rubbing his eyes harder than ever before. It only makes them bleed.
“Well, I had my fun reminiscing; I’m bored now. You can release me.”
“Yes, mother.”
The two humans behind him move and undo my bindings. I stand and stretch my cells out, morphing into a million different forms before settling back on my true self. I’ll admit, it was uncomfortable in those bindings.
“It’s time to leave and continue my work.”
Before I can leave, I’m surprised by a hand grabbing my arm. It was Andrew, eyes stretched out and throat sore. Yet still, he speaks to me.
“You know… this is wrong. You know… you’re not a hero. You’re… a villain. But you don’t have to be… Liza… please… stop this. You can still be a hero… the Monarch Butterfly.”
“… Your attempt at false pity won’t change my course. You failed, as will the rest of your kind. However-”
I kneel down and grab his face.
“You’re… a bit better than the rest. You know my story, all of it, and yet still try to… save me. Although I don’t need it, I appreciate it, my dear Andrew. This is my gift to you. one of my old fans.”
Before he can cough further, I kiss him. His eyes widen in fear, for he understands that this is no mere kiss. Within moments, all that was Andrew: his memories, experiences, and emotions flow into me. Now, the chair is empty and I am full.
“Let’s go.”
We leave the room, but when I do, I stumble back, disoriented for a brief moment. I don’t know why. I usually don’t feel anything after helping others become more than what they were.
“Mother, you’re… crying?”
“What?”
I check, and indeed, water is streaming down my face.
“Are you alright?”
Am I? What is this… feeling in my chest? Is it Andrew’s final attempt at making me feel regret or…
“O-Of course! I’m just a bit stiff from sitting so long. Nothing to feel concerned about.”
“Of course.”
I wipe the past away and look forward to the future. First, I will retrieve my aunt, and then I’ll… deal with Baron. With him gone, I can continue my march until the world is made better. But before that…
“Bring that tape recorder; it will serve as good history material.”
“Yes, mother.”
I sigh, accepting that others will hear my story, the full story. If they… still ask why I became a villain? I’ll say… I am a hero. I’m doing the right thing. What other path could I have taken? I… am what I am. A human.
The End
ns216.73.216.121da2
and then Add to home screen.