Every Day, I Make The Hike.

Every day, I make the hike.

Over the river of poisonous fish and deadly waters. Through the maze of thorns. Past the lair of something too ominous to describe.

Only to push a button.

And then I go back. I retrace my steps, hoping to get home before the fog sets in. Nobody wants to be near the fog without protection in the form of magical shields and a very, very sharp greatsword.

No wonder the job pays so well. I come within a hair's breadth of death every single day. If it's not the river, it's the monsters, and if it's not the monsters, it's the fog.

Only twice, I asked what happened to the last guy. I'd been here for two weeks by that point. The first time, my employer sighed and evaded the question. The second time, he told me.

"He died of old age."

No wonder he said I wouldn't believe him. The mere possibility is ludicrous. To go through this gauntlet for years upon end, and die of something so common as natural causes?

I enquired further - perhaps the person was one of the magical races that suddenly drop dead for seemingly no reason? But no, the man explained. It was something very different.

"You know the route you take. Over the river, through the thorns, through the jungle with the lairs. And you know exactly what lies at the end."

I nod. The clearing with harmless creatures and the button.

"Our second-last guy trained one of the pokipoks to do her job. It was amazing. I'd never seen anybody get close enough to feed them, let alone train them. But then the pokipok - which, if I remember correctly, she called Ball - died of old age."

That... made sense, but for a few questions (why treat the pokipok like it was human? Why call it an employee and yet not pay it?), only one of which I decided to ask. "Why didn't you get the girl to come back and train another?"

"She's in the army. We can't just up and steal any of their recruits."

Ah, the army. This success at getting answered made me ask another question. "What does the button do?"

My employer gained a devilish grin. "You aren't on the internet, right? So you haven't seen the latest trend."

The internet was a cesspool of people all clamoring to make their voices heard. I might hate it for that reason alone, if there weren't so many other things wrong with it. I had an email for contact purposes and that was it.

"No," I responded.

My employer chuckled. "There's something 'bout the pokipoks that make people smile. They're round and fluffy, and their fur squishes into the ground in this adorable way. Their legs are tiny and stubby and their tail is half the size they are. And their head has the most adorable ears paired with the biggest little eyes."

I nod, not sure where this is going.

"So we installed a few cameras to watch them. They're harmless, and yet, have no natural predators. And have you seen what they get up to all day? They bounce around on their tail and bump into each other. It's amazing!"

"What does the button do?" I repeated.

"Right, right! The button sends the last 24 hours of footage to us. Then we watch it, clip it, and release it online for people to watch and enjoy."

So I was somehow being paid off of ad or subscription revenue, which generated enough income for them to pay me $4000 per day on average.

Good lord.

"Why pay me so much then?" I asked, fairly certain I knew the answer.

"Buddy," my employer's smile fell off his face, "you put your life in danger for the cute animal videos. I'm not paying you any less when we have such a money surplus."

I rearranged my facial muscles into a smile. I'm not sure if I did it right, but it felt good to be wanted.

"Now, you wanna see our recent footage?" asked my employer, and his smile seemed so genuine that I agreed.

“Alright. You’re paid $1000 an hour, full benefits, full international accommodations of all types, and more. All you have to do is push 1 button, at a specific time, once a day.” “What happened to the last person?” The man sighed and started shaking “Um… you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Watching the debate now. Kamala's face is really amusing when she responds to Trump's ridiculous claims. He just described the state of future America as "Venezuela on steroids".

😀🥝

I think I'm a happy flightless bird endemic to New Zealand

@crownamedblue @energylessartist @sir-ramic @theultimatefloorskittle

tag game!

Your last emojis are your gender

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Uh

@erikaskblog @fymo-blogs

In case anyone is having a bad night:

Here is the fudgiest brownie in a mug recipe I’ve found

Here are some fun sites

Here is a master post of Adventure Time episodes and comics

Here is a master post of movies including Disney and Studio Ghibli

Here is a master post of other master posts to TV shows and movies

*tucks you in with fuzzy blanket* *pats your head*

You’ll be okay, friend <3

Heroes

It was a sweltering afternoon when I decided to kill my friends. 

I was waiting for them at the back gate to our school, idly flipping through the news as I lounged against the wall. 

It was the same as usual. The 'Vile Villain', Lord Subjugator, had begun causing chaos in the city, and our resident superhero trio, the Rangers, had to step in and save the day. Lame.

Call me odd, but I'd never liked supers. They were always so self-righteous, pretending to be so morally superior and perfect. They acted as though their vigilante justice was a gift rather than a pain in the ass, and that we all ought to kiss their feet.

Jeannine popped up in the corner of my vision, and I greeted her with a smile. But her normally sunny face was set in a frown. I turned to quiet Cel and broad, athletic Vic, who were equally solemn. "Guys? What's going on?"

Jean sighed. "Perhaps it's best to tell you at your place. I think you're going to need a seat for this," she admitted.

What had happened? Had they been expelled? Had Mrs Leo found out about the chalk incident? Had someone's parents died? "Okay," I said, patting her on the arm reassuringly.

The walk home passed in disturbing silence. Vic twitched at every little move, Cel sulked and Jean strode on with grim determination. 

I had known these guys since we were in diapers. We kept no secrets between ourselves. I knew them like the back of my hand, and I knew of nothing that could have them so spooked.

I led my best friends into the house, only to find my parents staring at me sternly. "Alright, what the hell's going on?" 

My mother, still beautiful in her fifth decade, shook her head sadly. "There's something important you need to know, Mara," she said.

"We're the Rangers!" Cel blurted the words out, and I stared at her in blank shock.

"Is this a joke? You're kidding me, right?" I gave her an incredulous smile and turned back to my mother. "What's the actual news?"

My mother's lips quirked downwards. "We're the Rangers. Well, to be precise, they're the Rangers and your father and I are their auxiliaries."

Misunderstanding my expression, she added, "That means we help out when they need extra manpower."

I didn't move, but I could feel anger bubbling in my chest, thick as molasses. They had to be pulling my leg. My parents, my best friends, were all supers? I waited for them to stop joking.

"Mara," my father said patronisingly, "it was for your own good. If you knew when you were younger, you'd only feel jealous that they had things you didn't. And it would make you a target! We were just trying to keep you safe."

For my own good, I thought. Like I didn't know well enough to decide for myself. Like I was some sort of child or pet, to be coddled and lied to. I could see it now, how my parents always deferred to them, how my friends were always babying me. Had they only befriended me because of my parents? Were they the children my parents always wanted?

I met Jean's gaze and forced a smile. "So, you must be Yellow Ranger, then?" The words practically choked me with their false friendliness. I wanted to scream at them, to curse them out. How long had they known? Had I been nothing but a pet to them this whole time? Was my whole life a lie?

Still I forced a sickeningly sweet smile when Jean nodded enthusiastically. "Cos I'm sunny and cheerful, you know? And Cel's blue cos she's the calm one. And of course that makes Vic the Red, cos he's passionate." She heaved a sigh of relief. 

"I'm so glad you're taking this well," Vic told me. He had the softest heart; how could he have betrayed me like this? Where had his empathy gone? "Your father was afraid you wouldn't be sensible. But we know you. You're so understanding." 

Understanding? Yes, I understood. I understood they had lied to me. Sensible? The only sensible response was to scream my lungs out. But I held my ground. They saw me as a fool, a pet they kept around out of… What, pity? Amusement? To affirm their egos?

And now I supposed they expected me to fawn over them. Even as the rage in my chest built to a steaming, broiling cauldron, I smiled. "So," I said, feigning awe, "Why'd you decide to tell me now?"

Cel grasped my forearms. Her fingers burned with falsehoods, but I matched her expression like the pet they thought I was. "Because we found the Subjugator's hideout, and we're going to stop him tomorrow. And you know, we were kinda hoping you'd celebrate with us. Bake us a cake, since your food's so good. I just want you to be a part of our festivities, even though you're not a super like us."

A super like them. There it was again, the damn supers thinking themselves superior to me.

Did they think I was a good dog, to run about at their feet, adore them, play fetch and roll over? Well, they were about to find out that this dog was all bite and no bark. 

No, this dog wasn't going to give them a warning bark at all. This dog would play nice until it sunk its teeth into their traitorous super flesh. "Of course! But I'm curious: Where's his hideout? Surely it must have been really well hidden?" 

My mother laughed. "Can you believe it was hidden in plain sight all along? Right in the skyscraper over there. He's listed under Evil Inc. It was like he was waving himself right under our noses." She shook her head. "Honestly, I'm embarrassed that we didn't see it sooner. Even a normie would have been able to catch him."

Normie. The word sent a paroxysm of pure lividity through my veins, like a shot of adrenaline. Of course supers had a degrading nickname for the people they supposedly protected. I let out a hollow laugh, bile rising at the back of my throat. I'll kill you all, I promised myself. I'll make you pay for your lies.

But I went into the kitchen like a good little girl and began taking out the ingredients for a cake. "Why don't you guys go and plan your big event? I'll just be here baking. I'm sure it was a pain to keep everything from me all those years ago," I said casually, even as my hands itched for the knife lying tantalisingly within reach. 

"Oh, it's not all that hard for us supers to hide things, what with our x-ray vision and invisibility powers," my mother said cheerily. "Maybe someday your father can take you flying! Now, wouldn't that be fun?"

Her words hit me like a metal slug to the chest. Of course I couldn't kill a super, let alone five of them. They had super-speed, super-strength, super-whatever. Anything I could do, they could do better. If I wanted to take them down (and gods I did, I wanted them to know they weren't the all powerful nigh-gods they thought they were), I had to be smart.

I took out my sieve and placed it on a metal bowl. In went two hundred grams of flour and a teaspoon of baking powder, a recipe repeated into muscle memory. Preheated the oven to a hundred eighty. Quietly, bitterly, I tapped the sieve. It thwacked satisfyingly but failed to drown out the excited voices just outside my door.

I knew what they thought. I was just a normie, what could I contribute? No, better to simply give me a minor chore to look cute on the news when they discovered me. That was the truth. I was just one little toy dog to trot out for the press to coo over, one more example of the stellar kindness of the supers. I slapped the sieve with renewed fury.

So the press wouldn't help me. They were too busy kissing the ass of my lying traitors. The police? No, they were worse than useless. They were grateful that the supers were doing their job for them. I couldn't do it on my own, of course. So that left just one thing.

Lord Subjugator. He would help me. And I didn't care if he was a genocidal psychopath with a fetish for mass enslavement, so long as he brought those bastards down. They thought I was harmless, that lying to me didn't matter? They thought I was a toy to take out of my box and put back in as they pleased, a little diversion from their 'true' lives. They would be proven wrong.

I pulled two eggs out of the fridge. I knew where he was. I could look for him. I smashed their shells against another bowl, picturing my parents' heads shattering, their selfish super brains leaking out. 

I didn't bother bringing out the electric whisk. I had too much pent up resentment, poured into the whirring of my whisk like it was another ingredient.

No, I didn't care about good or evil, law or chaos. I just hated them for lying to me. I added in the milk, and the butter. The mixture turned a frothy yellow. Melted Yellow Ranger, I thought vindictively, and folded in the flour. 

It was done, and all too fast. I poured the batter into an oiled pan. That went into the oven. 17 minutes.

Outside, I heard them discussing their responses to the press. The idea of introducing me to them. Discussing me within earshot, as though I weren't intelligent enough to understand. I dumped the bowls, whisk and spatula into the basin and began scrubbing them. 

"Smells wonderful," my father said, ruffling my hair. I resisted the urge to snap at him. "We ordered some pizza, come eat with us when you're done." He began to walk out of the room, then turned around. "You know, most kids dream of being friends with the Rangers. I know it's a big shock, but you should be more grateful, Mara sweetie. We're doing a great service to the city."

I didn't want to be friends with the Rangers. I wanted to be friends with Vic, Cel and Jean. I didn't want to be in their shadow, pattering after them and offering up baked treats. I wanted to be their equal. But I didn't say that either, only continued scrubbing the bowl.

There was a veiled warning there, however. I had to be more convincing. I plastered on a grin. As the final bowl was doused in water, I heard the doorbell ring. It was the pizza, of course. The very idea of eating with those traitors made me want to hurl, but I forced myself out of my little kitchen-sanctum. 

Settling down in a corner of my dining room, I had never felt so much like a stranger in my own home. The pizza tasted empty, like soggy cardboard. The buzz of my traitor-friends' voices scratched at my ears. 

Barely forcing down two pieces of pizza, I dashed for the cake when it was done, grateful to be free from the inane lies of those bastards, who persisted in pretending they had not betrayed me. It hurt, a hollow gnawing anger-sorrow that made me feel cold, alone and helpless.

I wanted to grab the cake with my bare hands, to feel the burn, to imagine the pain was theirs and not mine. But I put on my gloves and emptied the tin onto a cooling rack.

"Mum, Dad, guys," I said, the words sour and rotten on my tongue, "I'm gonna take a walk while the cake rests. See y'all later." 

And then I was out the door. The evening gust of wind was cooling on my face. It whipped my clothes, tossed my hair about, and blew away my sorrows. 

I wanted to be picked up and carried away by it, to leave these liars who wore my beloved family's faces and ate at my table. I didn't know what they got out of lying to me my whole life. Now that they were out of sight, the rage in my veins had congealed to loss. 

Nonetheless, my grief changed nothing. They, those bastards who thought themselves the arbiters of my life, had to go. I pulled out my bike, a reminder of all the great moments my friends-who-were-never-my-friends had with me. 

Tears welled up in my eyes as I rode down the street, headed for the building where the Subjugator resided. I wanted to run back into the arms of my parents, to confide in my friends. But they were dead to me. "Dead, and six feet under," I told myself, and nearly believed it.

I mean, what was I supposed to do? Roll over like a good dog and spend the rest of my days at their heels, forever lesser than them? No, I wasn't that sort. I was the star student, the winner of competitions, the perfect kid. I was better than them. I was the best, and if I wasn't, I would be. The idea of everyone around me being supers; the idea of them being better than I could ever be; I couldn't deal with it. I just could not.

So I pedalled faster, pumping my legs, swerving around curbs, ignoring red lights and cars with reckless abandon. A part of me wondered if I could just die here, flying down the streets to betray those who betrayed me. I couldn't close my eyes and pretend nothing had changed, but perhaps I could close my eyes permanently. 

I didn't, in case you were wondering. I made it all the way to the home of Evil Inc. and parked my bike with a sense of resignation. 

The skyscraper hung ominously above me as I walked into the lobby. A bored receptionist raised an eyebrow as I went by, but said nothing. Apparently she wasn't paid enough to stop suspicious teenagers in their school uniforms. 

I stared at the directory, scrolling until I found Evil Inc on the list. #66-6. Of course it was, I thought, stifling a laugh. 

The lifts were arranged neatly, and opened with sleek smoothness. Their innards were lined with mirrors, creating a dozen clones of me still in a greying school uniform. We stood together in silent solidarity as the lift glid up, arms crossed, ever so slightly hunched in anxiety.

When the doors opened, I reluctantly left my mirror images behind. It had been comforting to see them by my side, the friends I never had, the ones who wouldn't leave me. But they did, as all friends were wont to do.

As I stood in the lobby of Evil Inc., looking at the glossy signs, I realised my mother was right on one account: How the hell had anyone missed this?

It screamed evil genius with an temerity that almost amounted to insanity. The jet black linoleum floor, with its streaks of blood red, was by far the worst offender, though the metal inventions, often spiky and threatening, gave it a run for its money. I would have been scared, or at least intimidated, but the overall effect was too frivolous.

"Hello? Anybody in here? I've got some information that-"

"Shut!" The Subjugator walked out, waving a long finger at me. He looked exactly like a stereotypical villain, with slicked back dark hair and a monocle. The overall effect was surprisingly handsome, in a lanky, well dressed way. "I know what you're here for, Mara, daughter of the Ranger Auxiliaries. You understand, don't you?"

I paused, thinking through all that I knew of him. Then it occurred to me. "Yes," I said, "I think I understand. This- This whole evil thing, it's just a facade. You're like me. You hate the supers." The curling smile on his lips told me all I needed. "Was it the press who made up all the crap about you, or the supers?"

He shrugged. "Whoever made it up, they made sure to make me as vile as possible. They'll make one out of you too, when they find out you've defected." He gestured. "Come in, child of the supers. Come in and leave your sadness behind. This is a place of revenge, not regret."

I followed right on his heels. The inner rooms of Evil Inc abandoned all pretence at villainy, adopting a bland, beige palette. "What made you do this?" I meant: Who betrayed you?

"Your father did, of course," the Subjugator said. "I was trying to analyse the genetics of the supers, work out what made them different. So I took his samples, us being the best of friends, and mine, as controls." He snorted. "Some controls they were. It took a while to realise that my machine was working just fine, and your father had ruined my experiment with his faulty super genes! Of course, he and his precious hero friends silenced me and threw my life's work away in the name of 'the greater good', to protect their identities. Truth is, they think a super's life is worth more than a normal person's."

Thinking back to their treatment of me, I nodded. "We're just dogs to them. Roll over, sit and beg for them. That's all they think us capable of doing."

The Subjugator smiled again. "You truly are a kindred spirit. Let me show you around. Perhaps I shall find myself in need of an assistant." 

I gave him a hopeful grin in return. "I was wondering something. If you knew who the Rangers were all along, why haven't you stopped them yet?"

He paused just before the door, turning around with a confused expression. "I don't know who the Rangers truly are. Why would you say that- Unless?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

I nodded. "My closest friends, believe it or not. Celia Naretza, Jeannine Vera, and Victor Lee. Blue, Yellow and Red respectively."

The look of sympathy that came over his face told me that I had chosen the right confidante. "So those closest to your heart are supers, then? I can only imagine how much it must sting, to be trapped in their shadow." He rested a hand on my shoulder. "I bet they told you because they thought you insignificant. We'll prove them wrong. Completely, utterly wrong."

The sudden ferocity in his gaze startled me, but it kindled a kindred fury within my chest, rewarming the sluggish loathing that had settled on my ride out. "Bet," I said, and grabbed his other hand to shake it.

The Subjugator nodded. "In that case, call me Dale," he told me. "That's my true name."

"You already know who I am, Dale," I said, mostly just to try the name out. Its plainess sounded odd on such an audacious man. "So are we going in there?" I put my hand on the door handle that led even deeper into Evil Inc.

"Of course," he said, opening the door to reveal yet another bland hallway. "I'll bring you straight to my invention room. You can tell me about the Rangers there."

The invention room turned out to be dominated by a laser, with various tools scattered about. It was huge, practically the size of my school gym, but possessed only a single chair. I perched on it while Dale made us tea with a small, well used boiler in the corner of the room. "I know coffee is more typical, but I've never gotten accustomed to the bitterness," he confided, sliding a chipped cup over to me. "So, tell me, little Mara, who are the Rangers?"

"They're my classmates," I began, not willing to call those traitors friends, "and are all in the 10th Grade of Bleugarde Secondary. Victor is on the basketball team, Celia plays the flute in the school band, and Jeannine is a member of the theatre club. They do decently in school, but I've always gotten higher than them. We met when I was 4 years old. My family had just moved into the house in between Jeannine's and Vic's, with Celia's just across the street. We all started 1st grade together." I caught myself abbreviating Victor's name and swallowed. I had been closest to him, after all. His betrayal stung the most.

"Their parents? Pets? Anything we could use against them?" Dale scribbled a few notes on a scrap of paper and looked up. "Personal information is good and all, but I'm going to need their weaknesses."

I paused, thinking. "Victor's dad lost his job recently, and Celia's mother cheated on her husband a couple years back, so they're divorced. Apart from that? Nothing. They're a pretty normal bunch, if you don't know about their powers. In any case, I doubt you've got enough time to stop them before they attack tomorrow."

He froze. "They're attacking tomorrow? And you didn't see fit to tell me earlier?" His voice cracked, though with horror or rage, I was not sure.

"I- I thought you already knew," I said, instantly defensive. "You said you knew why I came, so I thought you knew about it all." Was I already going to lose him, so soon? 

He sighed. "I suppose that was my mistake. At least we found out now, rather than tomorrow morning. As it stands, our timeline has just been shortened significantly. I hope you're as smart as you claim, because this stuff isn't for fools." He didn't sound particularly angry with me, only resigned. "If they're attacking first thing tomorrow, there's no time to recall my staff, not without alerting them. Which leaves just you and me. Never thought I'd be leading an attack on the Rangers alongside a fifteen year old."

I coughed awkwardly. "I'm only 13. I skipped two years, took the placement test early. My mother always said it was good of the others to look after me. I had thought it was because they were older, but I suppose it was truly because they were supers and I wasn't." I hated them for that too. I would have rather been mercilessly picked on than be sheltered by those who thought less of me.

Dale shook his head ruefully. "This is a disaster. An absolute disaster, but we shall make the best of it." He put his cup down and walked over to the laser. "This is honestly all you'll need to know about. It's my second best work— The first, of course, being the one I was never allowed to publish." We shared a moment of bitter silence in the name of everything the supers had destroyed. "I call her Athena. She's quite simple, honestly. An honest-to-badness disintegration ray. Voice activated. Just say 'execute', wait a minute for it to power up, then say b-e-g-i-n. Works best if you yell, of course." 

I watched, fascinated, as the laser slowly whirred to life. It was so subtle, I would hardly have realised it was activated had he not told me of it. "That's one quiet machine," I told him. "It's amazing."

Dale grinned at me, the expression handsome enough to make me blush. "I know," he said, sighing in delight. "I thought about flashiness, but there's just style in having it this way. It autotargets supers, too!"

He regarded his inventions with the pride of a father. "In my earlier prototypes, it heated up a great deal. A little liquid cooling, piped to the air conditioning vents outside, fixed that. My secretary always said she knew when I power it up, because we end up paying a fortune in electrical fees." 

"Wait, how did you get the money to fund all this?" It did not appear as though a poor inventor could possibly finance such hefty equipment and an office in the central business district. "Are you rich?"

"Rich? Heavens, no. I'm afraid the truth is rather more dreary. I sell my inventions to munitions companies. This darling is one of the few I kept for myself. It would have made a fortune, but I cannot bear to part with it. Perhaps, when I invent something greater, I will find it within me to sell my precious away." He rested his hand on my shoulder. "So, Mara, what do you make of this? Of the scourge of Metropolis?"

I shrugged. "You're cool. Cooler than I thought some crusty old dude holed up in his office making lasers would be." I giggled at his feigned outrage. "And it's nice to have a friend who I know isn't a super."

"It is, isn't it? I can't stand how well they blend in with us proper folk. That's why I kept my genetics test around. All of my employees take it, so I can root out all the supers," he told me. 

I nodded my approval. "Thank goodness for that. I can't imagine-" My words were cut off as the door slammed open, revealing my traitor family and friends, accompanied by a horde of armed police. Dale thrust me behind him, as though he wanted to protect me from them.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Supers," Dale said, reverting to his facade of the over-the-top villain. "How can I help you?"

"You can start by returning my daughter, you bastard. Don't drag her into our feud," my father snarled. 

"I came here of my own will! I'm not some dog for you to control, and I won't spend the rest of my life waiting on you and the Rangers!" The words escaped my mouth in a yell, far more whiny than I would have liked. "You'll have to drag my cold, dead corpse home."

"Why?" Victor still looked bewildered. "What did we do wrong?"

"Wrong?" I practically shrieked the words. "You're supers! You lied to me, this whole time. Was any of it ever real? Was I just some fucking pet to you? Did you even care about me?"

Celia wept. "No, Mars, we never meant to hurt you. Mum told me I had to keep everything under wraps, and your parents said not to tell you. Please, come back to us."

For a moment, I almost believed them. "Don't ever call me Mars again. You aren't my friends. You aren't anything except a bunch of traitorous supers. Dale's my friend now." I grabbed his hand and stepped shoulder to shoulder with him. Well, it was more shoulder to chest, but the thought was what counted.

"Are you insane? Kid, get back! What if they shoot?" Dale pulled me in closer, trying to get me behind him.

"Then we die, together. I'm done being their pet. I am my own person, and I will not cow to them," I told him. "Kill me or leave me be!"

The police deferred to my parents, who looked increasingly distraught. Of course they did. The PR fallout from this would be terrible. My father shook his head sadly. "Mara, did we not pay you enough attention? Is that what this is? A cry for help? We've tolerated enough selfishness from you. Come home, now." The force put into his voice made me flinch, but I stood my ground.

"No. You heard me. I'd rather die." I lifted my chin. "Kill me or leave me be."

"This is all your fault, Dale. You corrupted her," my mother snarled, her mascara streaking down her face. "You let me daughter go, this instant."

Dale, bless his heart, shook his head. "She's not some toy. She's a person, and people belong together, not surrounded by your kind."

My mother's eyes went wide, as though she had been shot. I could see the murder in her eyes, and threw myself in front of Dale as she grabbed the nearest gun. But I had forgotten: Supers had super speed and super aim.

He never stood a chance, toppling to the floor like a ragdoll, with me clutching him in my arms. "You killed him," I whispered, staring at the hole in his forehead in disbelief. "You killed him. He was my friend!" All friends left me, I had thought earlier, and Dale was no different. We had a million futures together, as friends, as student and mentor, as partners, and it was all gone in the blink of an eyes. 

"You." I stumbled to my feet, the last pieces of my plan falling into place. "This is all your fault. You supers are a blight on humanity. All of you." My lips quirked into a smile. "Begin."

"What?" Jeannine shook her head. "You've gone bonkers, Mara. We're people just like yo-" Athena's laser sliced through her, swift, silent and deadly. Her severed head fell like a stone, and the laser instantly moved on the Victor. He had no time to register his death either, the only mercy I was willing to give him. 

It came as a pleasant shock to watch Athena decimate the bastards who had turned my life upside down. One by one, they fell, with only my mother seeing her death come at her. She died looking as betrayed as I felt. I took two steps forward, until I stared at the police. "Scram, before I decide to point my laser at your lot."

They didn't wait a second, fleeing like the cowards they were. "Good," I murmured, once they had left. "I didn't know how to train it on them anyways." I turned to Dale and smoothed back a stray hair. "I'm sorry, my friend. You don't deserve to die alongside super scum. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

I took a deep breath. "The world will come to rue the day it angered The Bitterness, and the supers will quake in their lycra suits. For I will exact my revenge, and it shall be long and agonizing."

I strode out to the glass window. It had a wonderful view of Metropolis, the sprawling city of the supers. I opened the window, letting the wind run through my messy, bloodsoaked hair. I inhaled the breeze. Then I screamed.

"Down with the supers!"

I can hug you! And I WILL!

@crownamedblue @toastedpotatoes @stargazer-luna

Making a chain cause why not!? Hdisiwisjs

Put your name/nickname in the Character Headcanon Generator and see what you get!

Link!

Erm...so-

@starsinthenigth @mxnaceo @duckp0t + Anyone who wants to do it! (No pressure)