Chapter 1

"May the day perish on which I was born, and the night in which it was said, 'A male child is conceived.' May that day be darkness; May God above not seek it, Nor the light shine upon it. May darkness and the shadow of death claim it; May the blackness of day terrify it."

Job 3:3-5

I was dragged into this world kicking and screaming, from the dark recesses of my mother's womb. Pulled out into the cold, blinding light, my first cries were the most pitiful that you could hear. And as the doctors cut the cord, wiped away the gore from my birth, and wrapped me in blankets, I heard one say in a garbled voice, "It is a boy…"

They weren't the traditional doctors clad in blue-green medical scrubs, in a clean, sterile operating room. The doctors were dressed in coal-black scrubs, and the room they operated in was a cold, steely environment. It was a dark night, and the only thing to help them see were work lights that were set up around the small, confining area that seemed to choke the life out of everything.

My mother, who yelled and groaned in pain as the doctors cut through her to get to me, was lying on a tarp and a couple sacks of cement, panting hard and surrounded by blood. My father, clad in dark clothing, was watching the scene from a few feet away, his arms crossed in silent acknowledgement. And when he heard the doctors identify my gender, he came forth and took me into his arms.

It wasn't a loving, kind face that I was staring up into on the day I was born. His face was one of evil, like I was part of some despicable plan where I would be grown into a weapon. And that was the plan; I was to be a weapon for him. I would become a weapon of mass destruction in his sight. And when I was old enough, he would fashioned me into this weapon.

My tiny, feeble brain didn't know what kind of torture he was going to put me through, but I smiled up at him when he held me. I didn't know what kind of man he was, but I knew then and there was that he was my father. And that was all I knew at that moment.

Suddenly, a noise that sounded like choking erupted from my mother's throat, and the group of doctors converged on her to try and help her. My father, with me in his arms, began walking away from the scene. He had what he came for, and he was now leaving.

And you're probably asking yourself, 'why is all this happening to you?' Well let me tell you, there's a logical answer for all of this: All this is happening to me… is because I am the seed of a villain.

Now that we have the preliminaries out of the way, I think its time that I introduce myself and what's going on here. To start, my name is Joshua Rourke. I am an American, born to an American villain. My father's name is Caleb Rourke, but he's known far and wide by his villain name: Death Shriek.

His quirk is a hypersonic voice, meaning that his voice is so powerful, it can cause damage similar to that of a bomb. And, if he has some way of amplifying it, it can go to the point of being like an atomic bomb. Not only that, but he can manipulate sound throughout his body: Into his arms, his fists, his legs, and even his feet. This allows to have more power behind his attacks, and he can even glide and/or fly with it!

I don't know why my father decided he wanted to be a villain, but my best guess is that he was once weak and puny, and was picked on by people bigger than him. And since he had nothing but his voice, he used that to hurt the people who bullied him and then some. Then he decided to use his voice to get the things he wanted, and so, he became a villain.

However, there were heroes who had fought against him, and though they won many battles, my father was successful in winning some himself. But after his biggest defeat, about nine months before I was born, he decided he needed a child to defeat the heroes with. So, he went out, and found a woman who he liked. I don't know her name or anything about her, but I know that she was one of the rare quirkless that aren't usually seen. I know this cause my father told me, but for all I know, he could be lying.

Before I move on with my story, I want you to know that I am able to talk. I'm not prohibited by my hypersonic voice, as I have to shout in order for it to work. However, I will say that my hypersonic voice is thirty times more powerful than my father's. So much so, that a mere shout could cause an entire building to collapse. So, I will be trying my best not to shout or raise my voice.

Now that we've taken a break out in the light, let's us journey back into the dark.

…

The first time I learned it was my destiny to become a villain came when I was about seven years old. Even though I was the son of a villain, I went to a school like every other kid. I was in the second grade, and we had just gotten out for recess. While I was playing on the swings, I noticed a group of kids bullying another kid on the other side of the playground.

I've always had this thing about bullying people. I've hated it, but my father wants me to embrace it. He wants me to be the bully, not the victim. I tried to work my way around it, like bullying the bullies, for example. But my father told me I need allies to help me with the bullying, so I was to only bully the weak, and to make allies with the strong. But I never did, and that always resulting in me getting screamed at, which is a lot worse when your father has a quirk that can amplify his voice.

So, there I was, sitting on the swings, watching the three kids pick on one of their own. One kid had a fire quirk, which he was using to give the kid who was getting picked on a wicked Indian burn. The other two, one who had several spikes on his body, and one who had a skull-like face, were laughing at the sight. The kid who was getting picked on yelled and cried as the bullies made him suffer, and the bullies stood there laughing.

This angered me a lot; I know my father wants me to do stuff like that, but it was awful what they were doing to kid! So, I got up and then made my way over to those bullies.

"Hey." I said, not yelling, but loud enough for them to hear. The bullies stop what they were doing, and turned towards me. "Leave him alone."

"What did you say?" the lead bully asked, letting the kid go.

"You heard me." I replied, trying to look tough. "Leave him alone, or I'm gonna use my quirk on you."

The three bullies laughed, and then the lead one said, "So, you're gonna try to be a hero, huh?" He then ignited his fire quirk. "You should've shut your mouth when you had the chance."

The two cronies of the kid with the fire grabbed a hold of me, and the kid with the fire grabbed my arm and started Indian burning me! I let out a loud yell of pain, and then my quirk activated! The concussion blast from my hypersonic voice sent fire boy flying, while his cronies went running! The kid who they were bullying, upon seeing his torturers flying away, sat on the ground with a shocked look on his face. And as for me, I stood there, knowing two truths: One, I had come to discover that I had a powerful quirk. And two, my father was going to kill me.

The principal found out what I had done, and had me and the bullies pulled to the office. She then called our parents, and the parents of the bullies came to pick their children up. Luckily, I was hiding in the principal's office, so they didn't see me.

They my father came: He was a tall, thin man with a somewhat muscular build. He had somewhat long, black hair, a goatee and mustache, and blue eyes that were as cold as ice. He wore a grey trench coat, a grey dress shirt, black slacks, black dress shoes, and a tan fedora. In a way, the getup made him look like a private detective; But I knew what he really was, and what he really was, was a monster…

The principal then made me get up and wait outside, and I obeyed. I stood outside the door and tried to listen, but I couldn't hear that much. Finally, the door opened, and my father emerged. He looked down at me, and I could see the anger in his eyes; Not because I had sent a kid flying with my quirk, but because I had defended somebody.

He quietly walked back to our car, which was a small, black sports car. He then got in, and I got in the back. When he got in and shut the door, I could tell he was upset. He gripped the wheel in frustration, almost as if he was deciding whether or not to blow my eardrums here or at home.

"You defended somebody, Joshua…" he said, his voice quiet and steely. "You know what that means, son…"

"I'm… I'm sorry, dad…" I replied, my voice quivering. "I will-"

"You will what?!" he asked, trying his best not to shout. He then turned around to face me, a look of controlled rage on his face. "You will be a bully next time?! You will punish the weak next time?! No… Every time the situation presents itself, you choose the path of being a hero… But you know very well that we, are not, heroes! We are villains, and you are going to help me destroy all heroes that cross my path… whether you want to or not!"

"But dad, I-"

"But what? BUT WHAT?!"

"But I don't want to be a villain!" I blurted out, trying my hardest not to yell. "I want to be a hero!"

He suddenly went quiet, a shocked look on his face. His face then turned to anger, and he slowly turned around to start the car. As the car was pulling out of the school driveway, my father then said, "Not matter what you do, Joshua, you will always be a villain. Nobody will accept the son of a villain as a hero… So, the way I see it, you have two choices: One, you can either learn that you will never be a hero and accept it. Or two, I destroy you and throw what's left of you into the sea… What do you choose?"

It was a fear tactic that he used: Threatened to destroy me and throw me into the sea. Unfortunately, I knew he could do that if we wanted. So, I had to choose the latter and replied sadly, "I will never be a hero… I want to be a villain…"

"Good…" my father replied, a creepy smile spreading on his lips. "And to help you become one, I will give you a screaming…"

I froze in fear, and wished that I had the ability to turn invisible or small or something to get me out of the car. But I knew right then and there, I was on a road… a road to becoming a villain.