How can Dmitri Kravinoff survive?
Through deception.
Of his identity. Of his history. Of his personality. Of his family.
Of everything that is he. That is how he can survive.
For all of Dmitri's life, he knew he had, strange and deranged abilities.
He remembered when he was a child, at another child's birthday.
No one had known who he was there.
They only knew his brother, Sergei Kravinoff's, name.
His brother had always been the winner.
The one to look up to.
The legend who, even back then, was known for his dangerous travels at such a young age.
Dmitri had decided to claim his name was Sergei Kravinoff at the party.
People believed him.
And he began telling stories of dangerous travels his brother had told him about, and adults listened with astonishment.
As he became carried away with these tales, he began to believe his own lies.
He was Sergei Kravinoff.
He was the one who went on those adventures.
He began thinking like his brother.
Remembering and creating memories of his brother.
Being his brother.
It had all become so frenzied, when his father came to pick him up, Dmitri actually corrected his father, Kravinoff Patriarch's, addressing of him.
"Dmitri?" He had said, "I am Sergei, father."
He had then realized what he had said, and had quickly laughed, and said he was joking.
But Dmitri remembered what he had thought that day. It was maddeningly frightening.
His brother and he were never close. In fact, they were far apart.
His older brother was embarrassed to have him as a relation. Though he never said so out loud.
Sergei valued honor too greatly to speak of his hatred for own brother. And Dmitri tried to do the same for a while.
But when Dmitri had finished College. He had attempted to join the group of explorers Sergei was with.
All board members felt his grades earned in College were enough to allow him in. But he had been turned down.
Turned down, thanks to the work of his own brother.
"I'm sorry, Dmitri," Sergei had said to him, "But you are weak. And weak men feel fear."
Sergei felt Dmitri wasn't brave enough for the dangerous roads of his clan.
After he had said this, Dmitri had spoken openly of his hatred for his brother, and Sergei had taken it all without a trace of anger.
He had only walked away, still looking embarrassed to have him as a relative.
They had never spoken, nor even seen each other after that day.
"I'm sorry, Dmitri, but you are weak. And weak men feel fear."
The last words of his brother murdered his mind.
These words pained him, because he knew they were true. They had been the words he hadn't dared to speak to himself.
He was weak. And weak men felt fear.
Weak men felt fear.
Weak men felt fear.
These words pained him so much, he was unable to move forward.
In an attempt to feel better about himself, he drove the words from his mind.
Not merely trying not to think about them.
Not even just forgetting them.
But thinking they had never occured.
He used the mental illness he knew he had to destroy the feelings that pained him so.
He changed it.
The explorers had no openings for people at that time.
And Sergei had told Dmitri he was too good for them anyway.
Even harder than trying to attach the new memory, he tried to completely destroy the old one.
The old words that hurt him.
And he succeeded.
These words he never thought of. Even in his dreams.
They had never happened, to the best of his knowledge.
And then, he received news. Startling news. His brother had died.
Between feelings of guilt from hating his own late brother, and the fact he had never proved to his brother he was worthy of anything; he changed his memories, again.
This time greatly.
He and his brother had been as close as twins.
Both always caring for the other's needs and ambitions.
Both going on and on about how good the other was, when they ever spoke to people.
Both were favored by they're father.
Both went to become explorers.
Both were raved as equals in the business. No one was able to rank one above the other. Like Lewis and Clark.
Enriched with these happy, fake memories, Dmitri longed for something knew.
Something that his beloved brother deserved.
Revenge.
He would hunt down, and kill Constrictoro.
He went to New York City to get equipment.
Equipment from the hotel his brother stayed in.
But he couldn't get in.
It seemed someone else had already broken in there, and barricaded the door.
So, he got a knew idea.
He would steel equipment from the Osborn mansion. It was empty. No one knew who would inherit it after Harry Osborn had died.
However, after planning it out, when he broke in; it turned out someone had already inherited the fortune. But the man lay dead on the floor by shattered glass. His skin covered in tiny slit-shaped gashes.
Now, Dmitri made a third idea.
There was on thing he was talented at.
One thing he had kept a secret to his family.
He was the master of disguise.
He had realized his talent in college.
No one else could make masks the way he could. No one else in the world.
Using the University's chemistry set, he had even created a serum.
A serum that he would drip over the life-like masks after he placed them on with make up.
The serum would then fill in gaps. Finish the job with parts of his own skin flowing over the mask.
This way, there was no way anyone could tell the difference between him, and the one he was copying.
He now did this with Lee Osborn. The now dead man who inherited the estate.
The one who no one else knew to be dead. This way, he could use the Osborn fortune legally, risk-free. And get equipment to vanquish Constrictoro.
He had several bottles of the serum, and many other accessories in his robe-like vest.
And even under his knew, perfect mask, lay a metal one.
Ever since Sergei had spoken his poisonous words to him that poisonous day. He had no longer even wanted to see his less than worthy face.
He had crafted a flexible, grey one made of metal over it. And had never taken it off, since.
Nor was he able to.
For the mask was made of strong hybrid metals, and looped over his entire head.
He had placed the mask on while the metal was wet and warm. And ever since it had cooled, it had become uncrushable.
Dmitri Kravenoff now watched a bler of sun and fire in the core of New York City.
It had been a good idea to leave the town, to create the mask.
He smirked at the ruined Manhattan Island.
He hoped he would still be able to take money from his account.
He wanted to kill Constrictoro pretty soon, if this creature was destroying cities.