–Shakespeare, As You Like It, ii, 7

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...10 years later

I sat at my office thinking, studying nuclear radiation. I did some shopping on DarkSide earlier today but I kept struggling with finding a solution to my dilemma. With the technology today, there is still no way to get rid of radioactive waste other than cleaning up fallout.

All I had on was my radioactive insulation and pajamas. The insulation makes me look like I just jumped out of a computer chip Super Bowl. Weyha, the first kid I saved, was out in the city robbing banks or chasing women.

"Godfather," a little voice called from behind me, I turned to meet Sarah's gaze, "are you going to town today?"

"Yep."

"More thinking?"

"Yep," a little more enthusiastically.

I told the children to call me Godfather, my favorite book. Not only was it my favorite book but I didn't have the strength to have them call me 'sire.' We call everyone by the super name that the person chooses, like Weyha, it means Wolf. (Sarah is six, yes she chose the name. No, my super name is not Godfather, but I am like literally their Godfather.)

I bid the others farewell over a comm, told everyone where I was going 'n such, (my house is goryDang HUGE,) and a put on my dirty clothes. Kinda like my disguise, can't be walking around downtown with a cape on unless your looking to get shot at. Although... the cape is WAY more stylish.

Anywho…

I don't go unprotected. My leather jacket and pants are inlined with carbon nanofiber, rendering them bulletproof from distant small arms fire. I also have my hidden tasers in my sleeves and a grappling hook in a backpack, and I didn't even mention my smartphone has an emergency alert I can send out if I need my goons that I hired seven years ago.

Going through the customs area hidden in the forests of my land I cursed the moped I was on. It can go two-hundred, but I don't have a death wish. The base of the handlebars holds a hidden compartment for a grenade mounted M4 that I can carry or magnetically mount at will.

I got plenty of other things up my sleeves as well. The backpack has a parachute and the bulletproof moped has a nasty self destruct feature. These only to name a few.

The city is more depressed than it was ten years ago. A lot more smog and debris in the air. Tons of Ho-bos who might shoot guns for room and board.

If I think about it, all the country is in a second Great Depression. Then the whole world is in a depression. The law is getting weaker and weaker, and I want it that way.

 Not that I purposely try to make things worse, but I don't try to stop it. Anarchy would do the corrupt government some good. I fight for the problems that me and mine have; no one else.

I saw a few protesters outside government buildings and such. The people are getting more and more ansi about the corruption. The politicians who are smart try to justify their actions with the "crime rate", but I hear people wonder if the tax-robbers in office are worse than the super bank robbers. In fact, last year a slew of tax collectors were blackmailed by the international super villain syndicate: The Dragoons. The blackmail resulted in a loss of billions of dollars all going into the syndicates pockets.

I pulled up to a soup kitchen and locked my moped to a light pole via chain and master-lock. The line was giant, but one of the workers there waved me to come inside. Daniel, the friendly cook, waited for me at a table.

The tables were always empty. Only thing that could be heard was the milling of the people getting their food and leaving. Dan was a plump cook that looks like a 60 year old Burger-Boy. There are no deep details about his physical appearance, smells like soup, apron has soup stains and his eyes are brown like beef soup.

He did possess a awesome smile and a even better attitude,

"Johnny," the name he gave me for no reason when we met, "my boy!" He rose and dropped his hand to signify my jacket, "When are you going to get me a jacket like that!"

I said taking the seat across from him,

"When there is enough hide on the planet to coat yours."

He laughed, the man can never be insulted, we're just like that.

"Oh c'mon lad!"

"Well," I said, "if you're serious. This jacket cost me a hundred grand."

"(Pft.) No my friend! Just a normal one! Not that fancy nano-this, nano-that garbage!" He put his hands on his protruding paunch for only a moment, "This hide don't keep me warm you know!"

I chuckled and my gaze froze. I spied a beautiful girl, working with the soups and stuff. She had glasses on, ... to others she might seem dorky, but I have my tastes and other people have theirs.

Dan cocked his head at me, a sparkle in his eyes. I pried my eyes away from her as a mischievous smile hit his lips. Knowing my look of desire he said,

"You know...," scratching his chin, "I think I have overheard some gals talking about some handsome guy out there."

"No," I droned with a flat reluctance.

"Fine then," he shrugged his shoulders, "suit yourself."

He smiled warmly as he met my gaze, "What did you want to talk about?"

I wet my lips then said, "My 'dilemma'."

He intertwined his fingers and rested his elbows on the table, he said exasperated,

"I knew you were going to say that."

Someone brought us each a cup of Joe and I gave him silence in return, he started father-like,

"Look boyo, you need to live your life. You may just have to live with your deficiencies like EVERYONE." He paused as if to say, "Yep, even heroes and villains. Superman had kryptonite and batman was getting old. We all got our problems."

I was silent for a long moment but then I asked what his problems were. His face did a flip-flop, the first time I ever have seen his face falter, but then he worded his words carefully so he wouldn't have to repeat himself,

"My wife died of child birth and my three children were taken in The Draft. I was left with one son from his mother's womb." He tried to smile as he added, "My eldest son actually is the cop watching the street outside. The second-youngest boy died in training and the girl is about your age." He gazed into space somewhere above me in thought, "She was a pretty thing." I went for a sip of coffee for the weird feelings going round. "If I'd want her to marry anyone it'd be you boy."

I spurted my coffee and he smiled from embarrassment. He and I were about to leave when I heard it. Over all the sound it seemed to ring true in my ears.

Over the mill of the crowd, over my milling feelings, and over funeral bells seeming to resonate through my brain to the sound. The sound, the sound...

Of cocking weapons.

I rose to my feet like a thunderbolt and it wasn't enough. Three men had three automatic weapons raised and burning. Burning into me and my friend.

The people panicked and slowed the assailants running past them. I was bleeding from several places on my body, but I didn't care. I was hurting for Daniel; I was screaming his name.

"It's gonna be alright Dan! I'm gonna-"

"No son!"

He said it with a real reverence to it.

"I'm gonna get you outta here Dan!"

I peeked out from the table I flipped and I saw where he was shot: one of his eyes were gone, three holes were in his torso, and one hole was through his leg. The store was cleared out, leaving nothing but the attackers approach, silence, my crying, and my closest friend breathing his last,

"Son!" He tried to shout, "Son!"

"Yes!?”

"Make your life count! Promise me!"

"I promise!"

He was silenced by a swift stomp, I heard him drive the remains deeper into the floor. It was as if trying to hurt me they rubbed his brain into the floor. The voice was without guilt,

"Get up, face death honorably."

"Honorably?!"

They shot warning fire, I pulled my sleeve back to call the armada.

"Come out with your hands on your head."

I had a secret weapon with me, a weapon not wives, and even some brothers know about. Only my fathers.

"Well," I tricked, "my boys are here!"

I blew up the wall to my right pushing me across the room to the kitchen doorway. The baddies took the bait and thought I would run to the explosion and didn't even see me. I ran into the kitchen and tried to process my thoughts.

They didn't entirely buy the bait but was coming back to follow my blood trail. I hobbled through the back of the building; no exit. I was exhausted when I reached the back table and didn't even notice the knife next to my hand.

I took it and looked to the sink next to me and got a idea. I was sneaking toward a fire alarm when someone was slipping up behind me. It was the girl that I saw and it seemed that she was coming for the knife in my hand.

Then blood coated the place where I got the knife; they must have silenced their weapons. As she slumped to the floor the sprinklers and fire alarm kicked on from the hole I made in the wall; mixing her blood with the water. She saw me and was croaking on her last breaths.

A goon different from the other earlier asked with pity,

"What do we do?"

A bullet went through her head and it bobbled to stillness, the cruel one then said,

"Do with what?"

I tore my eyes away from the cruelty and went for the power-box around the corner. I opened it up and stabbed it with a taser blowing all the lights and the sprinklers. I went back to the lobby to launch my plan.

"Oh boys!" I shouted.

They came around  to the front counter carefully, then climbed over it coming toward me. Then six more came from the front door; the explosion and the other guys taking so long must have brought them. They were well aware that something was amiss, and indeed, there was. The only sounds were their footsteps and the dripping as I sat in chair crossing my feet over another, charging my taser,

"You know, you really ticked me off."- they got closer and closer preparing to shoot.- "That's quite SHOCKING."

I struck my charged taser to the wet floor before they could react and watched them keel back and shoot the ceiling. Then they fell to the floor and wriggled on the ground like fish until blood was coming out of their heads. Only when they were dead did I lift my taser. Normally I shed blood with regret…

But not today.

I went to their bodies to search for any identification. I found none; so I clipped their thumbs off. A canine friend of mine can find the fingerprints on these mugs.

I kicked the bullet cases around in the bloody water. I went back to the pretty gal and laid her down with her eyes closed and her hands on her chest. I went to Dan and did the same to the best of my ability. I can't believe that I got them caught up in my game; this wretched game.

I was surprised to not have heard the sirens outside.

They barged in before I could do anything. I took cover and they shouted the usual police stuff. I hate having my grapple on my back…

But it works.

I took my bag off and took the parachute pin in grip. They were giving me three seconds, and on the last one I placed an aimed shot with the grapple to the wall behind them. Before the pack was dragged away as fast as a leopard I made sure that the parachute deployed as a distraction.

The shock, distraction, and confusion left them like sitting ducks. To make things better, one of them made mistaken shouts of a grenade which... would be a brilliant idea! I wasn't thinking about it at the time but I was taking one of the SWAT or Super Scooby-Doo or CSI or Martian police over no-one hostage.

The others watched me carefully, the ones who dived getting up. One of the cops said boldly for me to let him go, but the lead officer shushed him. The man shivered with the cold barrel of a G36C I nabbed before reaching him in his back.

"Let's not do anything rash-"

"I won't," I interjected with a demanding voice, " if you follow my simple demands. One: gimme my bag and two: let me leave; I didn't do this."

"If you didn't. Then you don't have anything to fear just chill, come in, and talk it out."

"I wish I could," I replied, "but even though I didn't do this, I have done my fair share of other things."

The cops shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other. The leader seemed like he could tell that I was a villain, and that's kinda above his pay grade. He understood enough to know that the safest thing for him to do with a psycho is to obey his demands. Why do you think they make the big insane asylums giant bouncy-houses!

..., ... Okay, okay! Maybe a villain didn't demand for him and his colleagues to live in bouncy mansions!

"Cooperate boys, get the bag, and let him leave."

They tossed the bag to me all to cooperatively triggering my paranoia. Do they have a mall cop armada outside? A sniper? Just backup? I made a mental note to check the bag for bugs and make sure everything is inside.

"Since I can't trust you," I pulled one of my hostage's flash-bangs and shoved him into his friends. I bolted for the door and outside, no one was waiting on me. I shot the lock off my moped with a burst of automatic fire.

I went for the hidden M4 and loaded it with lethal 40mm fragmentation grenades. Loading the grenade I saw Dan's son, three holes in his chest, bled to death. The SWAT came following me watching my blood trail, when they saw this crazy mug with a grenade launcher they ran back inside shouting curses. I blew another 'doorway' in the wall and sped away with the moped in the 'Juice Mode'.

I thought and thought, why did they let me go? They must have something. They can't follow the trail all the way to my lair. Then it hit me...