Why would you regret saying this?

"A world without creativity" was the newspaper headline. As you read through the article it was so factual, and lacked any such flair and dramatics that have become the norm, even in the news. The article read like a thesis, purely factual, with statements based on evidence and conclusions from a scientific mind. Not a single piece of unnecessary information was included, nor any inferences or sway of opinion. Evidently the writers block you were suffering from was widespread. On the surface this didn't appear to be of big concern, but that dismissal was short lived. The world was changing moment by moment as politicians no longer had access to the endless stream "creativity" they would use in their reports, posts, media presentations to sway voters to their point of view. Not only the person on view, but their staff and speech writers behind them had no conspiracies or rumours to highlight to back up their unfounded reports, and simply had proven facts to call upon which more often than not provided contrary evidence. Artists of all sorts sat idle without a single muse left in existence to inspire them. Painters could only produce visions of what they saw before them, and film makers could only produce documentaries. The world was rapidly becoming a bleak place as mere conversation became wholly unfulfilling. Interactions between friends became little more than a recounting of an event much like reading the transcript of what had happened purely based on a visual recounting. One writer sat, staring at a blank word document, the cursor flashing on plain white background begging the universe to send him some inspiration about a superhero or alien. This dude was ready for a prompt.

I was half hoping her professor would start telling her about more efficient ways incantations could be done.

[removed]

Him?

I kinda took it for granted that they're lesbians.

Vampire wedding just seems really gay, for some reason?

EDIT:

I'm sorry I haven't replied to many of you, I went to sleep and then had a talk with my fiancé, I really didn't expect this to blow up!

A few of you are suggesting she was being selfish and that I should leave her. My family were actually suggesting the same thing, but I didn't want to be rash, I do love her.

Anyway, my family and I had a meeting with her and her family. It seems like there was a lot of misunderstanding on both sides. The book I gave her on vampire traditions kind of glossed over EVERYTHING, just giving basic descriptions without any detail. We had a proper discussion about her fears and worries, as well as vampire traditions.

She was worried about losing friends, not being able to eat garlic, and being awake at night (turns out she's scared of the dark, how cute!) My family have reservations about letting the marriage go forward, my family is strict on culture and tradition.

I managed to convince them that I love my fiancé too much, and said I'd rather become human for her than lose her, so we decided that, since I had worked really hard to live her family's lifestyle, in the few months leading up to the wedding she'll live mine and we'll see how she feels about living like a vampire.

Let's see how this goes. Wish me luck! (Oh, and to those who suggested I ditch her... don't leave your house at night...)

Part 3 please!

Plot armour? But weaponised?

Pause. Blink. Pause. All I could do was stare ahead at the skeleton, arms clanking against each other as they were crossed in front of the...

"Dearest me, my humble lord, but are you perhaps wearing a fluffy bathrobe?"

The snort that answered me caused me to crack a grin.

"And pray tell, my lord. Why does one such as yourself need a bathrobe?"

The skeletal head creaked and cracked as it turned a what I believe was an impetuous stare on me.

"Well, it's a wee bit dafty, don't ye know? Can ye not feel it?"

"I can feel it, good sir. I'm just surprised that you can. You are after all, a skeleton."

The skeleton slowly turned its head, the creaking and cracking grinding against my ears.

"Well, I'll be. I didn't know dat. I suppose ye'd feel better if I were to be laid to rest, den? Of course I knew dat I'm a skeleton, ye daft old coon! It a wee bit drafty because here I am, supposed to be happily retired and instead, party after party after party comes stomping through here, wrecking me garden and me lawn. And ain't one has da decency to reimburse me for deir mistakes. What's da damned world crumbled to if adventurers are afraid to go for da loot behind dat closed door where something made noise. Dat was da fun! Naught knowing what ye'd face, but doing so fer honor, glory, yer name written in bardsong! Now, ye talk bout dis loot ye chase. Is dat all adventuring has come ta? Looting da easy rooms? Bah! But, if ye're looking ta keep going, it's dat tunnel behind da house."

I nodded stupidly as I walked over, removing my coin purse and withdrawing 500 gold coins from it. I held them aloft in an open palm towards the skeleton.

"For the troubles I've caused. And if it'd please you, I'd have your name, fine adventurer. To pray for you. And to see that those who came before me pay their accounts off."

The skeleton remained silent as he slowly reached up, touching the gold coins.

"Blessed be ye, adventurer. Blessed be ye. My name is Bjornir, a fighter of the Great Clan. What be yer name?"

"I am Hallig! Paladin of the Seven Temples."

"Then by me blessing, Hallig. Go ferth and adventure!" --‐------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Many moons had passed before a tentative knock on the door of Bjornir's house had him creaking towards the door. Upon opening it, he was greeted by a young man, sporting short cropped blonde hair, distant features recalling a far off memory of another young man.

"I'm looking for Master Bjornir? I've news to give him."

"Aye, dat'd be me. How can I assist ye, son?"

"I'm here to pay off the balance of those who have wronged you, so many years ago."

"Have ye, now? And what concern is it of yers?"

"I am Hallinor, son of Hallig, Paladin of the Seven Temples. My father swore on his dying breath that he was still collecting the coin to repay you. I am here to deliver his final wish."

Bjornir took a tentative peek out the door. With Hallinor stood 6 hulking men, each carrying two bags filled to the brim. Bjornir stepped back, staring at Hallinor.

"Tell me of yer father and come in, young Paladin. By de gods, please tell me of yer father."

Seen it a couple times before, I wanted to give it a go :)

The Professor narrows his eyes as he sees the fireball. "That's a hologram," he says.

"Put your hand near it, Professor. You can feel the heat."

He frowns, but he brings his hand closer. "...hmph."

"It's a real fireball," I assure him.

The Professor reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a cigarette.

I smile.

The Professor brings his cigarette closer and closer to the fireball, without taking his eyes off mine. As for myself, I am keeping my eyes on the cigarette end; at the moment when it pierces the fireball, it lights, and a wisp of smoke escapes.

The Professor looks at the burning cigarette end, then look over at me. "Congratulations," he says. "Now do you want to tell me how you faked it?"

"What makes you think it's fake?" I ask.

"Three reasons," says the Professor, taking a pull on his cigarette. "Firstly, today is April the first. Secondly, you have a well-deserved reputation for pranks; thirdly, I know for a fact that your thesis is on personal-wearable hologram generators, not fireballs."

...I sigh. "Yeah," I admit. "You got me."

"So how did you do it?" asks the Professor.

"The generator produces light," I point out. "No-one says it needs to be limited to visible range. This particular little fireball puts out infrared light as well, which makes it feel hot."

"And the cigarette lighting?"

"I have an infra-red laser remote lighter up mt sleeve. Honestly, the worst part was aiming it."

The Professor nods. "Well done," he says again. "A very convincing combo."

"Thank you, Professor."

And thank you for being willing to help put into widespread adoption the kind of technology which would mean that no-one will notice what my sister is doing if she starts throwing her own fireballs about...

What's "PSHAW"?

I know YTA, NTA, NAH, and ESH, but that one escapes me...

[removed]

Yes from our estimates we won't last through the winter if we don't begin stockpiling now sir

I'm at work now and would gladly quit to work for this "bad" guy.

Could there be a chance her family is catholic then? I’m not too sure of the current policy in regards to vampires, but I feel as though most Catholics traditions would conflict with most vampiric traditions.

Soa Netar was a woman with very few words. She almost never needed them due to her power. But coming to her needlework store front to see shattered glass, dried blood, burnt tapersies, and a flooded floor made the air hum as she walked towards the scene. For Soa wasn't just a business owner, but also a super with a hobby that didn't work within the law.

No one else was here, the police and medics already done their investigations. They wouldn't find what she needed, nor would they care. She had to find it on her own. With a deep breath in, the hum stopped. . . and the whispers began.

"I don't know what you are on about." Came from a gruff man. Bill, the cashier on for today. "If you don't have business here, you should be going."

Another voice, this one a teen girl. "Yea, we can't lock up while customers are here." Reese, a fiery lass that was on store stocking duties. "Please buy or go."

The next voice gave Soa a pause. "No can do." She heard. . . Prominence speak as crackling fire came under his voice. It made little sense at first.

But the next cleared it up as a sultry smooth voice came next. Snow Bunny. "We've found that this place has been funding supervillain activity. So we'll be shutting you down. Come quietly, or you will be met with adequate force."

Reese spoke again. "The hell are you on about? Get the fuck out of the store or-" She was cut off by a grunt and shattered glass

Soa let out a snort as she broke off the recording, seeing the rest as her phone finally pinged. She looked down to see Reese, now in a hospital bed with her phone. Sorry Boss, but I won't be able to make it to work tomorrow. Some icy arse punched me through the window. No one's dead, thankfully, but I think they wanted the safe.

Soa's skin slowly shifted from her fair color to a silvery sheen as she replied. Take however long you need off. Paid Sick Leave.

With that, Silver Sovereign left her business to repay her house call.

‐-------

"Man, who would have thought Ol' Shiny was getting funded from making quilts instead of robbing banks?" Snow Bunny asked, the ice-themed super relaxing within their Headquarters.

"Beats me, but without her funding, she shouldn't be able to make any more of those portal cards she uses for heists." Prominence said with a smirk.

"So all that's left is to catch her and bring her in." Called a third from the next room. "And considering how unguarded the store was and how easy we get her to turn tail without a word, this'll be in the bag."

"You said it, Bypass." Snow Bunny called. "By the way, wasn't Rumble supposed to meet us here?"

As if on cue, three knocks came on the door, making the steel frame shudder multiple times. "Sound's like that's him." Bypass hummed as he buzzed the door open.

Rumble's body flew in the opening doorway, splaying the big guy out on the far wall as he gave a grunt. The team's big bruiser, capable of making quakes with a thought, had a impact crater in his suit where his chest was, as if he had been hit with his own power.

The other three jumped up as Silver Sovereign walked into the room, the air around her humming with power as she inspected the supers daring to take her on. Rumble, the big buff guy he was, was already incapacitated from one of his own swings. The other three were just catharsis. Bypass was a nerdy tech wizard with the frame to match, and already pointed the bases defensives at her, while Snow Bunny and Prominence had summoned their elements in hand, the two models of female and male appearance respectively giving annoyed glares.

"So you are here villain? Ready to give yourself up?"

Silver Sovereign gave a small chuckle, an uncharacteristic move for her and one that immediately startled the other three supers. "Oh no, I'm here to return the favor from a few robbers and vandals."

The three froze, having never heard their nemesis speak before, at least with her own voice. It had always been pre-recorded, or spliced from ambient sound. "What..."

"You see, you three broke into my legitimate business I had for a hobby, and hurt two of my best workers. This means I no longer need to entertain you."

Bypass slammed the button to fire on Silver in a twitchy panic, only for all of the shots to bounce away from the villain and strike Prominence and Snow Bunny, energy shots breaking their focus and dismissing their powers.

"Wait, you've never been this strong. Those shots should be breaking you out of your transformation!" Bypass said with fear in her voice, only for Silver to chuckle darkly, a cacophony of laughter from the four hero's filling the air with her.

"Because you were never worth my time, until now."

The next day, four metahumans were wheeled into the psych ward, none of them daring to speak. Each had bruises on their chest and fingernail marks on their skin. Their eyes all darted around in paranoia, as they shuddered, restrainted and terrified. Once someone could get anything from them, it was a simple note, all four saying the same thing.

Don't let the Echoes return.

Men only have two fantasies and this is one of them somehow. (Going to deeply regret saying this)

Memorial Day. It's been 5 years since Blitz lost their life taking down Shrike.

We called them a supervillain, but that's just playing into the fantasy we should call them what they were- Shrike was a serial killer. Blitz had got caught on her barbed wire, but pushed anyway. People don't like to talk about the how, only that it was first and last act of true heroism this town has ever seen. It feels bad to sully his name, but I needed to make sure they'd show.

The dawn service started like every year. So when the mournful blare of the horns started looping, I wasn't met with the usual knowing smiles. People were first confused, then they booed and jeered. I was killing my own PR for this.

"Esteemed guests, I apologise for the rude interruption, but I assure you this was necessary. Please bare with me a moment, Eclipse Squad is likely being shaken out of bed by their handlers, we may have to wait for them to arrive."

"We're already here Dastardly! How dare you sully such an important day!".

I have to admit, their PR firm was good. Of course they got the kids out of bed for the dawn service photo ops.

Black fog rolled from Midnight's palm and... stopped.
Moonlights eyes lit up, but before they reached their crescendo, he froze.
Luna... had clearly been practicing. There was almost some speed to the chair she launched at me. It was almost at my face before it too froze. Then reversed, at speed. She froze mid-fall after it struck her.

The crowd stood eerily still, but that was more shock than anything I was doing.

"Eclipse Squad, Mayor, Citizens of this blighted city. You've laughed for years, and I've laughed along. This was my joke. But these IDIOTS hurt the group of teenagers I was supporting. The ones YOU FAILED. A broken system, filled with injustice, designed purely to funnel 'undesirable' characters out of the public eye, and into the cycle of incarceration. Do you know what the recidivism rate is? These kids could've been supported and done something with themselves but YOU-"

I jabbed an accusatory finger at the frozen heroes, sweeping it around the crowd to end on the mayor.

"YOU let a group of teenage kids beat on any 'delinquent' they find, then funnel them into a penal system that either breaks them, turns them into villains, or both. It's time the city had a real villain. Someone to scare the edgy teenagers straight, and to remind the heroes what villainy looks like, so they might think to go a little gentler the next time they're tempted to beat on a 15-year-old with a spray can!"

A hollow grin creeps across my face. Slowly, leisurely, I stroll over to the nearby fences, trimming the barbed wire from the top. But that's from my perspective.

To them, a blur of steel and costume streaks along the plaza. In a second Eclipse Squad is wrapped tightly together in barbed wire, unfrozen, but screaming in panic, and the beginnings of pain.

"Today, I am no longer DJ Dastardly. Today, I'm Shrike 2.0 - Remix."

[ParaSEC Target File, Threat Level: Lethal]

• S-Class Chronokinesis [Time-Stop, Looping, Short-Term Reversal.]
• S-Class Speedster Abilities.
• Target demonstrates a committed vendetta against the city and heroes in particular. Possesses a clear willingness to use lethal force for acts of cruelty. Preparation Required. DO NOT ENGAGE WITHOUT PRIOR AUTHORISATION.

[End File]

Gives me vibes from Renegades by Marissa Meyer! I love that trilogy

The three heroes slammed open the door behind the bakery, leaving several badly beaten workers crumpled on the floor. Some of them weren't moving. "Hey 1, should we call an ambulance or something? They dont look too good." 1 scoffed. "Absolutely not. They got what was coming to them, 2. They should have thought about the consequences before working for the Overlord."

Before 2 could respond, the door slammed shut behind them, and the lights blared to life, temporarily blinding the trio. When their eyesight returned, the Overlord himself stood before them. "Got what was coming to them, yes? What an interesting way to justify yourself." The Overlord scarcely had finished his sentence before 3 swept in, hefting his battle hammer high before slamming it down, caving in the Overlord's skull. All that remained was a mass of wires and electronics as the intercom crackled overhead. "Oh, please. after that display of brutality, do you really think I'd be stupid enough to confront you in person?" The Overlord said, his voice dripping with contempt. 1 punched the wall, growling with wrath. "Come out, you coward! Fight like a man!" 

"Oh, fight like a man? Do you mean like you assaulted my unarmed employees? Have you ever heard of a front, or a cover? Had you considered that I may have hired random people to hide my trail since you seem so familiar with my typical associates? They have nothing to do with this, you imbeciles. Good men and women beaten nearly to death over something they had nothing to do with. They're practically civilians. You have finally abandoned the people you claim to fight for, in the name of the greater good."

2 shrunk back, trying to hide behind 1 as if he could protect him from the well-earned scolding. "How could we have known?" he asked timidly. 

"HOW?!?" The Overlord shouted, causing the speakers to squeal in protest and 2 to duck further behind 1.

"If you had an ounce of common sense, you would have realized the obvious. You are either careless or callus, and proven yourselves to be an undeniable public threat. Until this point, you have been tolerated. You have been playing hero, and I have been keeping you entertained. However, you have been playing for so long that you have forgotten what it meant to be a hero in the first place. Before today, your act was innocent, and perhaps even a little endearing. Now you have lost your innocence, leaving us on equal footing for the first time in your little game. The training wheels are off now, children. Pray that you've learned how to walk, because now you have to run. Besides, I would hate for anyone else to get hurt." 

As he said this, several slots began to open in the ceiling. The three heroes looked upward in horror as they saw the faint glow of something burning above, quickly racing down the newly opened shoots. "On a related note, are you familiar with the murder holes in medieval fortifications? Quite a barbaric tactic, but I think you have certainly earned it. How did you phrase it earlier? It seems you'll be getting what's coming to you."

[removed]

[deleted]

Sparks fly as I lift the partially melted steel beam off of my chest. I'd love to just lay there and catch my breath, but the building is on fire, and regrowing burned skin is worse than ribs knitting themselves back together while moving. Gingerly, I roll over onto my side and push myself up.

The smoke stings my nose and eyes as I stagger towards the door. It's painful, but hardly life-threatening. Nothing is to me, which is why I've been nicknamed "Punchy Bag" by most of the younger generation of heroes. I hear they make a game of it, competing to see who can take me out the fastest whenever I try out my latest get-rich-quick scheme.

Hitting my side job though, that's a new one. Does it even count when they beat me up before I even put my plan into action?

I'm interrupted from this line of thought when I trip over a leg. The good news is, it's still attached to its owner. The bad news is, Christian's unconscious.

The hell? Did those idiots seriously knock out my cook and leave him in a burning building?

Fortunately, I've healed up enough to hoist Christian over my shoulders and stagger out of the gaping hole the Wolf Pack left in the front of my pub. I hand him over to the paramedics, then slump to the sidewalk to watch my shop burn.

I thank all the gods I can think of (even the ones who are patrons of heroes) that the heroes didn't attack until after closing. If it had been just an hour sooner...

My hands begin to shake as I think of Lucy and Ranjit, my bartenders. They're just kids trying to pay for college. Of Benny the dishwasher, who I sent home early today to take care of his sick daughter. Even Luigi, who owns the deli next door and supplies us- supplied us with most of the toppings for our pizzas, often comes over for a drink after hours. They all could've been in danger.

"Boss!"

There's Pete, the delivery guy. I don't move as he runs over to me.

"Boss, what happened?!"

"The Wolf Pack." I watch as the last of the flames are extinguished by the firefighters. At least Luigi's Market won't have to close down like I will.

"Those washed up D-list heroes?" Pete's voice is deadly quiet, and I finally turn to look at him. There's a dangerous gleam in his eye.

Pete's the only one of my pub staff who knows about my other line of work. He was one of my henchmen back when I was a full-time villain. Unlike the rest, he wanted to get out of minion life when I faded into semi-obscurity, so I offered him a delivery position when no other place would look past his record. By the look on his face right now though, Pete looks like he's a step away from going back to that life.

"I'll handle it." I finally stand, heading into the charred remains of my pub. "They won't get away with this."

"What you gonna do?" Pete follows me in.

In the ruins of the kitchen, I stoop down to pick up the mezzaluna knife that Luigi gifted me last Christmas. One of the fine wooden handles is blackened, and the blade has scorch marks on it, but it's still sharp as a razor. I heft the crescent blade and look Pete in the eye. "What I have to."
~~~~~
Amongst heroes and villains, there is one rule that is held sacrosanct. You don't touch the life outside the mask.

Some villains break that rule, of course. But very, very few of them survive to boast about it. And usually, it's not out of mercy, but as a warning.

It's basically unheard of for a hero to break the rule. I can only think of two other times it's happened, and both times were revenge on the villain that did it first. Never a preemptive strike.

Then again, it doesn't exactly surprise me that it's the Wolf Pack that did it. They've always been wilder than other heroes. It's what made them fun at first, especially when they first started out as reckless teenagers. But that was years ago, and the excuses of inexperience and youth died pretty quickly when they racked up hundreds of thousands of dollars in collateral and gained reputations for being loose cannons.

These days, most other heroes refuse to work with them, and the Wolf Pack clash with fellow vigilantes as much as they do villains. Which is why I'm not too concerned about any backlash when I kick down the door to their clubhouse by the levee.

Yeah, they're still using the same clubhouse as when they were in high school, judging by how dated the posters of bikini models and rock bands on the wall are. I can see magazine and comics strewn about the floor, and the whole place stinks of weed and booze.

As if to add insult to injury, I can see a discarded keg and empty pizza boxes I know were from my pub. Arson, assault, and now theft too. And they call me the criminal.
The five members of the Wolf Pack are playing poker and passing around a joint when I walk in. With marijuana dulling their reaction times, it's child's play to roll a glue grenade under the table, trapping everyone's legs in rapid-hardening foam.

"What's the big idea, Punchy Bag?" Alpha, the leader of the Wolf Pack, sneers at me. "Don't tell me you're mad about your shitty pizza place."

"Oh I am, but that's just the tip of the iceberg." I hop onto the table, upending a stack of cards and several red plastic cups.

"Oh God, is he actually gonna monologue?" One of the Tele-Twins rolls her eyes and whispers to the other.

I kick out at the one who didn't speak. Steel-toed boots shatter her jaw and send blood and teeth flying. Both twins start screaming in pain. Guess the rumors about them being able to feel the other's pain were true.

"I've had to listen to enough of your speeches over the years, so now you shut the fuck up and listen to mine. The only reason heroes and villains don't slaughter each other like animals is because there are rules we play by. And you broke every last one of them. Today was the final straw."

"You won't get away with this!" Speedemon, the team's speedster, yells at me. "When I get out of this gunk-"

"You won't be in any position to do anything." I finish for him, pulling out the mezzaluna knife. I jump off the table and kick it over, revealing everyone's trapped legs. Before any of the Wolf Pack can react, I've hacked clean through Speedemon's left knee. He's howling and sobbing as I methodically wipe the blood on his gaudy purple leotard.

"Rrraaggghhhh!!" Alpha roars as he manages to free one of his legs through brute strength. He reaches toward me, but stops when I level the crescent blade to Laser Lad's neck.

"Ah ah ah, I'm not done speaking yet. And I see so much as a spark from you, you'll die drowning in your own blood." I pat Laser's cheek with my free hand. "As I was saying, you imbeciles broke the one rule you shouldn't have. You brought innocents into it."

"That dirty ******? He deserved what he got, working for you-glrkk!"

I admit, I lost my patience when Laser Lad spat out a racial slur. The mezzaluna cuts cleanly through his tongue.

"Christian didn't know about my double life. And even if he did, heroes don't leave people to burn alive."

"Enjoy this while you can, Punchy Bag." Alpha seethes. "When I get my hands on you-"

"Were you not paying attention when Legless over there tried it first?" I point at Speedemon, who's turned pale from blood loss. I pull a stack of photos from my pocket and toss it onto the floor. "Here, maybe this will get the message through your dense skull."

Alpha's face turns purple as he takes in the images of the Wolf Pack's families. "You fucking has-been, how dare you..."

"You so much as fart in my general direction, and your families go bye-bye." I waggle a detonator switch. It's not connected to anything, because even now I'm still following the rule, but they don't know that.

"Here's the truth, kiddos. You made it personal. Now you're going to be the warning for anyone else who tries something so monumentally stupid."

I shove the mezzaluna back into my belt and heft the small tank of gasoline I'd brought with me. "You shouldn't have played with fire. Now I'm going to leave you to face the same fate that you left my employee to. Except I won't be around to carry you out."

I toss another glue grenade at Alpha, just to be safe, then set about dousing the entire clubhouse with flammable liquid with a cheerful whistle. The Wolf Pack, or at least those who can still speak, are begging and cursing at me now, but I ignore them, instead lighting a match. Without so much as a quip, I drop it on the gasoline-soaked floor and close the door behind me, muffling the Wolf Pack's screams.

[ParaSEC Target File, Threat Level: Low]

• C-Class audiokinesis [Looping and pitch. No evidence of volume control]
• D-Class speedster abilities. [Slightly faster run speed. Potential sensory acuity - further evidence required]
• Target demonstrates propensity to use powers exclusively for show. All 'villainous' activity mundane in nature, possibly a publicity stunt. [Officially denied by all contacted PR agencies. IntOps priority low - pursue only if convenient during other activities]

[End File]

You know the problem with most villains?

Okay, trick question. There's no one problem with them, usually it's the egomania, or psychopathy, or the tunnel-vision. I used to say that they lacked flair, but some of them have a decent sense of drama with those capes. The real problem? They lack fun.

Not Jester's knife-wielding jack-in-the-box fun, but something that makes life genuinely enjoyable in itself. Sadism doesn't count. That's why I'm different, I'm not here to crush the world in my iron grasp, or to torture the world. I'm a villain for kicks.

Welcome to the world of DJ Dastardly.

Do you know how hard it is to give yourself a silly name as a villain? I had to fight months of media calling me things like 'Remix'. It's hard to scaremonger around someone with a silly name, they conveniently left out footage of my preferred moniker spraypainted everywhere for MONTHS. It was only once some kids posted it on social media that they were forced to give in. After that, I was Page 17 material at best.

I'm a heist-villain. Low level stuff- museums, science fairs, that one time I nabbed the mayor's statue at town hall. High visibility, low impact. That's my game, and my 'nemeses'... Well, let's just say the same goes for them too.

I've got a lot of respect for Eclipse Squad's PR team. It takes a creative mind to look at a human strobe light, a gothic fog machine, and a B-class telekinetic ("but DJ, she can fly!". She floats, and can make other things float. I'm shaking in my very fashionable boots) and give them some damn good branding.

So, here's the score (and believe me, I know scores)- You're somewhere public, but with oddly good acoustics. Someone takes a step, and it echoes a little bit too much. Then again. It starts looping- no one's walking anywhere, but now there's a tok-tok-tok of a 4/4 beat. I used to always have to say the name myself, but nowadays if I'm lucky someone else guesses first.

DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ D-D-D-Dastardly! (they only say it the once, the effect is all me).

From there, you're all part of the performance. Every step, noise, gasp, and laugh? It goes in the soundtrack. I'm a one-man-acapella/percussion looping pedal, and the audience? They're starting to like me. Turns out security guards find it really hard to focus when everything they do gets looped into a live performance. I'm there taking a bow at the item-du-jour, and Eclipse Squad roll in. Midnight's black fog blocks my camera angle, Moonlight tries to stun me with a flare (come on kid, I'm in a cloud of black smoke, think about it.), then Luna tries to knock me over the head with some slow-moving object. I throw them a bone "Damnit Eclipse Squad! You've foiled me again! But I'll be back for an encore!", and slip out the back.

All fun and games, honestly a great way to spend an afternoon, not to mention boost listens on my soundcloud! Until it got serious.

Turns out strobe-boy moonlights as a wannabe hacker (I'm not sorry). Tracked my IP to the little music studio I run. The one with the music program to keep delinquent kids off the streets.

They roll up in full-costume, see some kid that they'd knocked around for graffiti before and decide that this is DJ Dastardly's gang lair, and that the kids are my 'henchmen'. Eclipse Squad might be idiots, but as it turns out, when faced with blinding smoke and flashing lights, a lot of teenagers panic. Now imagine an enclosed space with a bunch of panicking teenagers who can't see.

3 concussions, one broken leg, 6 cases of PTSD. I'm just thankful Eva had detention, I don't want to know if Moonlight's power could've triggered her epilepsy.

I'm protective of my kids. They've had a bad run, and I was trying to show them a way out of the system. The injuries were one thing, but because they found a little weed on him, Jim's going back to juvie. That was the last straw.