Nega-Ass
I'm not sure when I figured out that my friend Dave was Kick-Ass. I know it was after his "unmasking" – he showed up to school looking like he'd been beaten half to death.
I don't have many friends. Dave and Marty are basically it. We make fun of each other a lot, and I guess that doesn't help you meet new people. With little charisma and a tendency to mock people, I just come off as a dick. Anyway, the fact that Dave was nearly murdered on camera, that was a big deal to me.
Then a few months later Marty stopped hanging out with me after school – training to become a superhero, I've since learned. Then Dave shortly after that, and I was alone. With zero friends, effectively.
As I saw it, the only way to keep my friends was to become a superhero. I got a costume to match Dave's, I thought we'd be a team. But no. Turns out Dave and Marty were the team, and they didn't want me. They laughed at my costume, laughed at my name, laughed at me. In my head it was a moving tribute to how Kick-Ass had inspired the new heroes, but I couldn't say that out loud. We just didn't express that kind of thing in our friendship. Instead I left them.
Now I'm in a warehouse full of supervillains, drinking a cappuccino and talking to a lunatic who's sworn to kill my best friend.
"So who the fuck are you supposed to be, anyway?" asks the Motherfucker.
"I'm, like, Kick-Ass's mirror image. Like he's got the green with yellow," I say, pointing to my yellow and green costume, a mere color inversion of Dave's. "I'm the negative to his positive."
The Motherfucker looks at me like I'm an idiot. "So you're…?"
"I'm Nega-Ass."