the memoirs of Syndrome

I always wanted to be a hero. Soar the skies like Superman? Wage wild wars like Wolverine? Shoot lasers like Cyclops? Sign me up sir.

I’ll admit, even now I dream of being a hero. Though these days it’s often the escapades of anti-heroes like Venom or Deadpool that catch my eye. Maybe it’s just that I’ve seen the world in a clearer, less rosy light.

In a world rife with supernatural villainous forces, superheroes are seen, even worshipped as gods among men. And that’s the reason why I want to be a hero.

Wait.

Oh?

You think I give a hoot about the civilian population?

HAHAHA

What’s a hero without victims to save?

They’re nothing but pawns for me to escalate and flaunt my heroics.

If they survive, praise the Lord Almighty! But only because I risked my life for them.

If they don’t, well every mission has its collateral damage right?

Such is the fate of the weak and lost.

Oh? You think I’m evil now do you? Not fit for the title of “Hero” eh?

Wait till you see those who call themselves “Christian”.

Go. Ask them.

Why insist on going on arduous “mission trips” when the lost number plentiful among them? In their families. In their schools. In their workplaces.

Even in their churches.

Why push for greater budgets, only to erect newer, posher, buildings while the saints in persecution scrape for survival?

And you say I’m ego-centric?

And a hypocrite?

Puh-lease.