[ WP ] You are a supervillain explaining how you are not actually evil .

I ’ ve never liked the chairs in the Department of Meta-Human Registration ( DMHR ) office. They ’ re small, frail pieces of wood with padding that has long since been compressed into flat, uncomfortable slabs that chaff my ass. They ’ re rammed next to each other so closely that my purple robes spill over into my neighboring seat. The fussy man seated next to me gives my cloak a sideways glare of disdain. 
 
 
 What do I care? Judging by his doughy flesh, and normal street clothes, he ’ s one of those meta-humans that has no useful abilities, but still has to register regardless. Probably has the ability to summon cold symptoms at will, or maybe he can read the minds of cats. Yeah, cats that ’ s it. 
 
 
 “ What ’ s so funny, weirdo? ” the man asks accusingly. 
 
 
 Crap, I was snickering out loud. “ Uhh, nothing. ” I grab a magazine from the table to my right and flip open to a page as I add, “ Just read something funny. ” 
 
 
 “ Uh huh, ” the stuffy man gives my magazine a sideways glance, and leaves to find a new location to sit. Then I realize my mistake: I ’ m holding a magazine devoted to Beanie Baby collecting. My eyes flash crimson in rage. I will burn this magazine, here, and now! 
 
 
 I ’ m halfway through charging my finger beams when common sense prevails -- I ’ m supposed to be turning over a new leaf -- and I toss the magazine aside. 
 
 
 “ Number 23, ” an old grandma voice calls out. I look up and see an older woman with a cyan colored beehive hairdo standing in front of the door to the back with a clipboard; she ’ s calling for the next appointment. I wasn ’ t aware anyone ever actually wore that color of hair, let alone style. 
 
 
 “ Number 23, ” she repeats, “ Death the Stroyer? ” 
 
 
 “ I AM DEATHSTROYER, ” I bellow as I rise from this wretched seat, “ PUNISHER OF MORTALS AND THE COMING APOC… ” Oh, crap, every eye in this badly, fluorescent lit waiting room is on me. I compose myself and continue, “ That ’ s me. Deathstroyer. ” 
 
 
 This unflappable woman doesn ’ t even bat an eye. “ Right, come with me. I ’ m Edna, I ’ ll be your caseworker today. ” I guess when you ’ ve seen it all, a cyan hairdo that looks like an ice cream cone, isn ’ t so odd. I catch a glimpse of myself reflected in one of the office windows, purple robes, neon purple cape with wide projecting shoulder pad spikes and a skull helmet. Who am I to criticize a silly hairdo? 
 
 
 We wind our way past the desks of case workers in discussion with the metahumans of the city. I give a friendly wave to Frank the Volcano -- I ’ ve got poker with him on Wednesday -- and tacitly ignore Ranger-Rocket. That bastard is no hero, just a loser trying to collect hero insurance payments. 
 
 
 Finally, we arrive at Edna ’ s desktop. The surface is strewn with a mish-mash of overly cute ceramic figurines. It ’ s a wonder how she finds space to get any work done. Yet, I can ’ t fully fault her for the chair in front of the desk is wide, sturdy, and more importantly, has a wonderfully plush cushion on top. I sink slowly into it and sigh with relief. 
 
 
 “ Mr. Stroyer? How can I assist you today? ” 
 
 
 “ Oh, yes, you ’ ll need this, ” I fetch the form from my robes and hand it over. 
 
 
 She reads through the document and raises a single eyebrow. “ This is a 4JR form, you know that, right? ” 
 
 
 “ Yes, I do, ” Insolent fool, would I have spent three days filling in your accursed boxes if I did not understand the nature of what I was doing? “ It was a very long form. ” 
 
 
 “ This is a meta-human reclassification form. ” 
 
 
 “ Of course. That ’ s what I ’ d like. ” Accursed mortals, I should sweep this entire office with my Deathgazer beams and reduce you all to smoldering ashes, then kill every one of your family members merely for associating with you! “ If you could please. ” 
 
 
 Edna shrugs, turns to her computer and starts typing. 
 
 
 “ Now, Mr. Stroyer -- ” 
 
 
 “ Deathstroyer ” 
 
 
 “ -- Right, see hon, that ’ s part of the problem. Heroes don ’ t have names with Death in them. Your records are also a bit... problematic. ” 
 
 
 “ Oh surely they can not be that bad. ” I have writ the history of this city in BLOOD and PAIN! 
 
 
 I bite hard into my lip, drawing blood. Control yourself Richard. You ’ re turning over a new leaf. What ’ s in the past, is past. Let ’ s look forward. 
 
 
 I add, “ I have paid my dues to the city, but I would like to do more. ” 
 
 
 “ Your obligations to the Megaopolis have, indeed, been met, but there ’ s a concern of recidivism. ” 
 
 
 “ Recidivism? I ’ ve never fought him. What powers does he have? ” 
 
 
 “ No, RECIDIVISM, it means you might do evil again. ” 
 
 
 “ Oh. ” I adjust my robes in my seat. They feel like a blanket around me. 
 
 
 “ Let ’ s review your record. Even I remember when you held the city hostage and threatened to blow it up with a giant Deathbeam. ” 
 
 
 “ Which was justly stopped by Cinderspark. I followed league rules, even when the narrator wouldn ’ t. ” 
 
 
 “ And then there was the time you hypnotized the orphanage into being cannibals. ” 
 
 
 “ They were the most adorable fleash-eaters, dealers of death. ” 
 
 
 Edna sighs at me and rubs her eyes in frustration. “ This is what I ’ m talking about, normal people, and heroes don ’ t think CHILDREN eating people is adorable. ” She returns to the computer and works the keys some more. 
 
 
 “ Oh, this one hits especially close to home. There was the time you switched all the regular coffee, with Decafe, and turned all the dark chocolate into milk chocolate. ” 
 
 
 “ Yeah, you look like a chocolate eater. ” I changed them back later! 
 
 
 “ What was that? ” Edna shoots me a look of contempt. Shit, I said the part in my head outloud! 
 
 
 “ I mean, you look like must have gotten the wrong chocolate. For that, I ’ m uhh, I ’ m sorry. ” 
 
 
 “ Right. ” Edna ’ s iron gaze bores straight through my skull. I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “ Mr. Stroyer, let me ask you a question: Who is it? ” 
 
 
 “ I beg your pardon? ” 
 
 
 “ Who did you meet? ” 
 
 
 “ I didn ’ t meet anyone. ” I wrap my robe-blankets tighter around me. 
 
 
 “ Cut the crap sweetie. When you ’ ve been in the business as long as I have -- ” she taps a little plaque on her desk that says ‘ For thirty years of loyal service ’ -- ” you get used to seeing certain patterns. One of them is you villains meeting someone. Someone you fancy, only that someone is a hero and now you want to switch sides because the relationship don ’ t work if you ’ re on opposite teams. ” 
 
 
 “ I don ’ t know… ” 
 
 
 “ I bet I can guess. Someone lithe, young. Younger than you anyway. Probably wears purple -- ” 
 
 
 In my mind, I see that skin-tight, purple outfit silhouetted in the moonlight, as she flips backwards off the building roof after our battle. My heart misfires a few times as the ache consumes my chest. My little coquette. 
 
 
 Edna grins at me and leans back in her chair. “ See, I knew it. A little advice sonny, these relationships never work. You might change your ways for her, but it ’ ll never stick. Soon you ’ ll just feel like a pretender in your own skin. My advice is either move on, or have an out-of-costume affair. But don ’ t expect it to permanent and don ’ t change yourself for her. ” 
 
 
 “ But… my form, ” I gesture at the beast that consumed 3 days of my existence. 
 
 
 Edna sighs. “ Yes, you ’ re right, as a citizen of Megaopolis you are legally obliged to petition the city for reclassification, but I ’ m the one that gets to approve it. Tell you what, if you ’ re really serious, come back in thirty days time. Come back with a new name, a costume that isn ’ t glorifying death, and at least 40 hours of community service, and we ’ ll talk. Understood? ” 
 
 
 My upper lip twitches, my fingers run across on the trigger of my deathgazer beam controls. 
 
 
 “ Oh please, ” Edna fasten both eyes on me, a red flame forms around her and builds to an inferno. In a deep base voice she commands, “ YOU ’ D BE DEAD BEFORE YOU COULD EVEN RAISE YOUR HAND, SO DON ’ T TRY IT. I DON ’ T NEED THE PAPERWORK! ” 
 
 
 “ Right, sorry. ” I take my hand off the trigger. “ I ’ ll just be going now. ” 
 
 
 The flames around Edna fade, and she smiles at me. “ Have a good day sweetie, and think about what I said. ” 
 
 

