Prelude To Super Villains

It almost feels like a sharp murder weapon held against my face, Doubt. It felt cold against my skin, glinting silver steel in the moonlight. The murderer, Fear, had me paralyzed. Holding me in such close quarters, I could see the permanent evil sneer on Fear’s face, distorting what was in his mad mind into tangible realness. Fear was breathing down my neck. “Go ahead,” he said mockingly. “Love,” as if it were a curse. “I dare you.”

Oh, and I wanted to spite him. I wanted to grab his wrist without him knowing it and hurt him real bad, like what those secret agents in those movies do when they were in a situation like this. I wanted to jab my elbow into his wrist, grab his knife, grab Doubt with my trembling hands and drive it to his neck. I wanted to stab him again and again, hear his screams and wallow in the spray of his warm blood to my face, to my arms, and to my neck if it’s the only thing that will make me sure he will never haunt me again. Oh God, if this is how it feels to Love, then I want to Love. I want to Love so bad.

But my mind is too slow; my heart, too weak. All I could do was pile up my anger into mountains, hoping it’s going to lead to something really helpful. I was hoping I could build up enough destructive anger to blind me and make me do what I normally won’t be able to do.

Hah. I don’t even know what it is. Maybe this is how super villains are made. Maybe they’re afraid, and the only thing their mind allows them to work on is their anger. They generate enough anger to work on like clay, and mold it as they go along, randomly and with no thought to whom they take out their anger to.

But still in the root of it all, there’s Fear. Fear’s blood working its way through the pores of their skin. Fear, laughing, jeering, saying he won after all. Fear, their first victim. With it, Compassion. Conscience. And they realize Love has become Anger. And Anger has fed through Doubt. Anger has become their murder weapon -- no longer the cold steel, but pulsing and red hot with the blood of its victims. They have become Fear, the murderer. Ultimately, they don’t know what to believe in anymore. Nothing is left to be done but be Angry until someone more powerful destroys them. Or they destroy themselves.