Log of January 24th 2020, 11:55 pm, Marvin T. Blackwood

Ok so, there is this thing when you are a supervillain, that has kind of always really destabilized me: people expect you to be evil. Like, they actually think that's a prerequisite, that you can't pursue evil without being evil yourself.

That, in my opinion, is the honest to god final proof that people are completely fucking stupid.

I mean, just watch any, literally any movie with a villain and you'll realize that most of them are not evil, just wrong: the Grinch thought that nobody was ever gonna love him, Megamind had been brainwashed into being evil since he was a child, and honestly, Thanos was just trying to help people to suffer less, even though playing God kind of fucked him up.

Really, the only thing every fucking villain has in common is defeat: every villain is a loser at heart… and that brings us to me, because I am the biggest loser of them all.

My name (my actual name) is Marvin (and that should explain a lot) but you probably know me as Dark Storm (chosen it when I was an angsty teenager, it sounded cool back then), or, I don't know: the fire guy, maybe… because, you know, my powers are fire related.

Even if my powers or whatever are kinda top tier, I guess I am more of a brainy kind of villain: I like inventing gizmo, and my proudest achievement is this thingy I am using right now to record my thoughts because writing is boring and I don't like talking very much, followed suit by my army of evil Chuck Norris clones.

My family was very embarrassed when I firstly introduced them as my minions… because yeah, that's my main loser trait: I'm not in the business because I am evil (because I am not, I don't think so at least), or because I have some tragic backstory that lead me to a life of crime convinced that I am somehow doing good, I am in the business because my family is. The Blackwoods have been supervillains for centuries, lurking in the shadows, fighting the light, plotting… and I am good at plotting, I even kinda like it, but I don't understand why everything I plot has to be bad. I've never even wanted to be a villain: I wanted to be a writer… but that was never really an option. My mother died giving birth to me, and she was the one with the evil blood, and of her two siblings, one never married and the other married but didn't have kids, so here I am, last heir of the most evil family of England, cursed with the weight of carrying out the family business when I honestly have never ever given 1 (one) single fuck about doing bad to the world, leaving a black mark in history or whatever.

Like I implied before, my family is very disappointed in me. Which is kinda why I am in therapy. Which is kinda why I am doing this… seriously, though, you should see our Christmas dinners: they keep reminding me how much they've done for me, granting me the best training a villain could hope for, giving me all the opportunities they never had, and Marvin, Jesus fuck, you're 23 and you still haven't made it to the world news, and now I am 25, and I guess they are starting to give up and have began thinking about the next generation, because they've started to ask me when I am going to find a tragically beautiful bad girl and start making an army of new little Blackwoods.

Sometimes I really want to lash out on them, because they keep treating me like I am an ungrateful little bitch, but they never mention how they've never allowed me to have friends, or the fact that because of them I have a case of PTSD so bad that I have to take pills to sleep, but I usually just let them talk.

I guess being the most nonconfrontational arse that ever walked on English soil is another thing that doesn't exactly play in your favor when you're supposed to be an antagonist.

Actually, I did mention the pills thing to my father once. He just shrugged and literally said that there's no rest for the wicked. So yeah, talking back doesn't do much in this family.

For the rest, I am a pretty normal guy. I mean, when I am not engaged in evil deeds.

My family is shamefully rich, so I don't really need to work, but I have never really cared much for money.

I live in a small flat in London, close to Baker Street, with a black cat that I swear to god hates my guts. Her name is AK47, but I mostly just call her dude, or dipshit, or, like, Kay, so I don't even think she knows that that's her name. Mostly we try to acknowledge each other as little as possible and keep on a pacific coexistence.

I don't go out much. My neighbors must think that I am some kind of recluse, but the truth is I just don't really have friends. I have my family. I have a therapist. I have people I know. I have a couple of henchpeople. I mostly spend my time in my room eating ice cream, watching Netflix, inventing useless shit and trying to plan enough crimes to stay on the Great Britain Super Villain top 10 for another year, even though they have been defining me more chaotic than really evil since I was, like, 17.

I must have been a sight, back then. A short, blondish kid with dark, sad eyes, bagged up in black leather, engulfed in a wave of fire. I remember how scared and fucking angry I was.

I was actually very young to have my debut on the scene: my family still thought I had talent, back then. I think most of England wasn't as scared of me as they were sorry for me. Young lad like that, such a clean pretty face, who knows what terrible thing has happened to make him stray like that.

Nothing had happened except for my unfortunate birth in the evilest family ever, but they did not (and did not need to) know that.

I've changed a lot since that: grew a few inches (just enough to be considered almost average instead than shockingly short oh my god you look so much taller in pictures), put on some muscle… the usual, but the tabloids still call me the villain with the sad eyes, from time to time.

So that's it, I guess. That's my life.

I am a 25 years old not exactly tall blondish supervillain under the name of Dark Storm, my villain suit is black (thankfully I managed to ditch the leather after a few months), I have fire powers but mostly work with gizmo, and I guess you could say that I am kind of a nerd. I have a cat that despises me. I have my family that is very disappointed in me, I have a therapist that probably also despises me, I have people I know, I have a couple of henchpeople, and… well, I guess I have my army of evil Chuck Norris clones.

And I have my nemesis, obviously: what kind of supervillain would I be if I didn't have a superhero to fight?

He's more or less my age (I guess that being both terribly young was what originally drew us "together". Honestly, I am not even sure if he was out of the academy back then), he goes by the Alchemist and… well, there's no point denying it: he is tragically beautiful.

I mean there's only so much I can tell considering that every time we see each other he's wearing a mask and a full body dark blue thing with a cape but he is so tall and his skin is this very nice shade of light brown and for what I can make out of his face, he does look cute.

He is, also, a remarkably good guy… because, you know: just as much as you don't need to be evil to be a bad guy, you don't need to be good to be a good guy, and honesty the hero industry is really fucked up.

But he is… well. I am kinda required to keep tabs on him, as his nemesis, and he's one of the few heroes that actually keeps quiet about his private life (I would still know if he was somehow caught up in drugs or something like that, I think) but from what I know (and I know enough) he's literally one of the best people I know.

Which is kinda bad, considering that I am his nemesis and that I am supposed to make his life hell.

And this brings us back to me being the biggest losers of them all.

I should probably stop self-deprecating so much: I'm pretty sure it's not good for my confidence, or whatever. Not that you particularly need your confidence, when you have no friends and no social life to speak of, but still.

Wait is my phone ringing? My phone is ringing. Why the fuck is my phone ringing? Nobody has this number but my family and my henchpeople, and nobody ever calls this late. It's almost midnight, for hell's sake.

Maybe I should stop fucking around and go pick it up. Now where the fuck is my phone?

records of various weird sounds as the phone is looked for. A click when the call is answered.

-Hello? –

-Dark Storm? –

Ok, this is new. Who in the bloody hell calls you in the middle of the night when they don't even know you? This is not even my supervillain number. This is my number.

What. The fuck.

-Who am I talking to? –

-I am legally prohibited to disclose this information on the phone. –

-Are you serious? –

This must be a prank call. It's not even that fun. But how the fuck did they get my number?

-Look, it's late. And this is not fun. Leave me the fuck alone. –

-I am very serious. I'm calling you to inform you you've been summoned to the address I've just sent to your mail on January 26th at 0800 am. -

-I've been what now? –

Let me check my mail, there's no way they actually… oh. There it is. I kinda know this place. It's in London. Something to do with the Government.

Bloody hell.

-You can't be serious. –

-Again, I am very serious Mr. Blackwood. And I'd like to advice against being late, on the 26th. –

Beeping noise as the call is cut on the other side.

What. The bloody hell. Did just happen.

The phone doesn't recognize the number. This asshole knew my name. And my villain name. I didn't fuck up about it anywhere. I am sure I didn't. So how the fuck… and what the hell does the fucking Queen want from me? I am a supervillain, Jesus, sure, but it's not like I am anywhere close to bad enough to be, like, snatched by the Government, thrown in a cage and disappear forever from the public scene.

You know what? I am going to bed and I am going to listen to Welcome to Nightvale until I drop. Fuck it. I've had enough of this day.

I need to remember to buy some milk tomorrow. I think I'm out.