To say that he never thought he would end up here was a massive understatement.
Back when he was still on the straight and narrow-back before the accident-if you had told him that he'd become the city's most wanted criminal, let alone that he'd be proud of such a thing, he probably would have asked you to leave and not come back. After all, he was too busy for such things; he was a scientist you know, working on important and dare he say groundbreaking experiments in his field. Besides, he had no taste for crime. It was his destiny to help people, not hurt them. You could ask anybody he knew, and they'd all say the same thing; Professor Steven Boxleitner didn't have a dangerous bone in his body. He was a good man, who would change the world for the better.
Oh, the foolish things we believe when we're young…
How many years ago was that? One, two, five, ten? It really made no difference. He'd long since lost track of time, rarely even keeping track anymore unless he was in prison. Nowadays he lived his life moment by moment, between pieces of gouda, cheddar and havarti. Most of his time otherwise was a jumbled mess of numbers, blueprints, explosions and of course, heated battles with his nemesis. Can't forget about that of course, the smug little brat who thought she knew everything, little miss goody two-shoes, always getting in his way…It was hard to believe that once they had been friends. Once upon a time, he had held her in a high regard, to the point he considered her the little sister he never had. Oh, but those days were long, long gone. Wordgirl's friendship was just one among many casualties that he had racked up on the way to becoming who he was now.
Every so often, he finds himself staring at himself in the mirror, gazing absently into his own reflection. He remembers those casualties; the friendships and loved ones that he's lost, his ruined career, destroyed reputation, the shattered psyche he harbors even now. He remembers how devastated he had been in the beginning, and how now, it all seemed so inconsequential.
And he laughs.
He stares, wide-eyed, unblinking, into his reflection and he laughs and he laughs, he can't stop laughing because it's JUST. SO. FUNNY. His laughter grows hysterical and uncontrollable, until…
Until he's not laughing anymore.
Until the hyena-like peals of laughter have deepened into genuine, gut-wrenching sobs. Until he's not looking into the mirror anymore, and instead he's sunken down to the ground, sitting curled in a ball, knees up to his chest and rocking, trying desperately to console himself in enough time that his henchmen won't come in and find him like this. He stays like that until he can no longer even remember why he was crying in the first place, and dusts himself off to go work on his next big cheese heist.
If you had told him that this was who-was what-he would become, he never would have believed you.
To say that he never thought he would end up here was a massive understatement.