Chapter 8: Controlled Chaos
"They all say 'it's not wrong when I do it'. I suppose that is the issue," says the woman. The superheroine stares intently, behind her shades, across the room.
Against the warehouse wall, Trapster rigidly stands with his hand at the ready. If endangered, Pete can draw his Paste-Gun. Although, he would prefer not to. Ideally, the Avenger understands that he comes as an ally, not an adversary.
Trapster's trigger finger may be tense. But, his gaze, meeting the superheroine's stare, shows soft sympathy for her hard times. He has her hidden history in the file.
She sighs, "I suppose that 'they do not know what they are doing'. Luke 23:34. I suppose that heroes, villains, and everyone just thinks that someone sanctions them and what they do. They are simply righteous people doing what is right—or at least okay."
"Hmph. Nah," Trapster reflects, "I know that there's a difference between the two of us."
"Hmph," she sniffs back. Although, the Avenger must surely know that she is more often on the side of the angels than notorious thug Petruski.
Peter remarks, "I did not know that you were religious. You quoted the Bible."
"Growing up, I attended parochial school here in Manhattan," shares the superheroine.
Nodding, her caller almost says "then, you attended Empire State". However, he stays silent and shuffles his shoes apprehensively instead. A Frightful Four fiend may be a brazen bad guy, but even infamous Trapster balks at certain sensitive subject matter: sexual violence. Any man with a mote of conscience should be squeamish. Somehow, a story about Dr. Doom ravishing the world or Mr. Sinister slaughtering the Morlocks is more savory than the report in Dwyer's dossier or an account about reaction to same.
However, American women (unlike conscientious men) don't always get to blink about a blackest blight. From early puberty to even old age, American gals get to be aware of the bedevilment and bedlam bedded but beneath civil society. Much more than boys, they must be alert to circumstances about the possible savages surrounding them. They must acknowledge an uncomfortable status quo and know seven hundred ways to stay safe—all while being sugar, spice, and everything nice.
Thus, the heroine helps the big, tough, bashful bad guy nigh blushing before her. Standing straight, shoulders squared, she simply states, "Of course, after high school, I attended Empire State University. You are here to discuss the rape that happened there."
"Yeah." Seemingly, a tomcat has trapped Trapster's tongue.
Boots tap toward taciturn thug. She talks, "I don't have much to tell you. I don't revisit the details much—outside my mind daily. I shall simply acknowledge that the incident occurred."
"Always empower the victim of such an assault," states a villain, "I'm evil, and even I know that." Ignoble Pete is going to respect her privacy.
The superheroine peers skeptically into the villain's eyes. Her own are behind chic shades. It is hard for her to reckon that Trapster, renowned reprobate, is here to help anyone (especially an Avenger) seek justice or pursue solace from past trauma.
Only three days before, Trapster, Titania, and Absorbing Man busted heads and put the hurt on Project: Pegasus security chief Blue Shield and his Guardsmen. The Bugle reported that the trio tumbled from the sky and lay frozen. Upon security investigating, the cold criminals abruptly unthawed and attacked. Absorbing Man and Titania thrashed Guardsmen like tin soldiers, and Trapster turned some of his typical mean, tacky tricks too. It is hard to believe that such a blackguard wishes to be benevolent.
Leaning in, the lady liberator surveys Trapster's visage and deliberates. She hopefully intimidates a little too by leaning in, for the meddling man must understand that she controls the meeting.
"May I ask a question?" she asks, "Why meet with me? You are notably not the munificent type."
The bad man answers, "The Wizard sent me on a deed that made me feel dirty, and I am a sinner, not the Devil. Dean Dwyer's cowardice likewise disturbed me, and Ken Barthson's crime disgusted me. I decided to redress the situation."
"Did you?" the woman wonders, "And, how did you plan to do that?"
"Well, first, I confronted that weasel Wizard. He hadn't done right by my reputation," reviews Trapster, "However, he bested me and bounced me to potential prison Project: Pegasus."
The Avenger abruptly points an index, "So, upon encountering an assault, you—a man—thought of your own honor first before assessing the female victim's burden?"
"Well, aaaaah," expresses Pete. The story is more complex than she just made it.
The snarky super steps back and grins, "Go on." She messes with the man a mite, for he is a villain—and a man.
"After escaping Adirondack authorities," announces Pete (abruptly upright), "I immediately contacted you. You are easy to find. Anyone knows your name and current Avengers occupation. I wanted to see if you were alright—years after the attack."
Tersely, boots turn and tack to away. The silent, serious woman takes a slow walk once around the living room in her secret lair. The air is temporarily tense, and an edgy outlaw awaits an attack. Surely, the survivor has a lot of underlying rage. You see, anyone should intuitively know that she shall never be entirely alright. The act is that grievous.
Circling back, she holds him in her firm female gaze, but her face unexpectedly holds little ferocity. "Thank you for coming to this Avengers clubhouse. It must have taken some bravery to parlay in perilous territory," communicates the heroine, "Thank you further for bringing the report and for bringing recent events around the report to my attention."
Taken aback, Trapster is very impressed. A champion can certainly have more character than a crook.
Composed, Kate continues, "So, I extend my courtesy to you. And, because I am a hero, you get my compassion too. Coming here—at risk of combat and capture—could not have been easy for you.
"However, I am now going to clear the air about my own troubles and tribulation. During which conversation, you're going to keep quiet. Capeesh?"
"Of course," utters the other.
Stern-faced, the woman starts discussing, "First off, you are so damn right that a true ally empowers the crime victim. Post-incident, the victim is in shock—somewhat forever. However, she most wants and needs her volition back. She decides if the next step is summoning the authorities, killing the guy, or keeping a dirty little secret."
"Why haven't you killed Barthson?" asks the villain interrupting.
"I have thought about it," admits the Avenger, "And, occasionally, we Avengers do do in a threat. However, we do that when necessary, not just when we want. I suppose that one could say supers operate outside the law but not above it. In this marvelous world, normal men and women—including cops and combat soldiers—need extraordinary militias who match amazing adversaries. However, these 'heroes' mustn't become villains. So, civilized society cannot have every grand vigilante slaying, slaughtering, and punishing sinners like the spirit of vengeance or a lethal protector.
"Furthermore, I choose to be better than the Barthsons of the world. The world's bad guys, including you, act like beasts. High Evolutionary ought to have just raised them in his laboratory. Living by the law of the jungle, they jealously hurt heroes again and again over jejune justifications. Like barbarians, they raid, ransack, and rob relentlessly. As though on a wild frontier, they appoint themselves the alphas of all and lawlessly take territory—even the entire Earth—as though there be no sheriffs in town. Like big apes, King Kong Barthson and other brutes amuse and gratify themselves by abusing innocents.
"In such a mad world, I want to be a hero. A Mighty Avenger uses her might to make right, but she or he isn't a monster selfishly substituting might for right. Rather, the people's protector places the powerless common man and even the imperfect criminal before herself. She strives to be a symbol, saint, or soldier, but not a savage. (Much as She-Hulk, Wolverine, or Ka-Zar sometimes take that descriptor. Simper, simper).
"So. No. I have not taken sanguine revenge upon Barthson. I seek to be a superhero. It would be wrong if I do it." The stoic woman stares into space. Shades shield her intense eyes.
"I see," says Trapster.
"I'll simplify the issue," states the sufferer, "I seek to be a superhero, and such lot seemingly all do the same. They take some terrible trauma or tragedy and build something tremendously good. For example, an amiss scientific experiment turns them into a rocky Thing, and they turn bitter oranges into orange aid, ever helping others. Or, they are X-Men who suffer extended oppression and unbelievable bodily aberration, yet they husband humanity. Or, some heroes have tougher tales than even mine. (And, B-T-W, I donned this costume soon after my good mother's death, which was soon after my rape).
"For example, I cannot imagine how it is to be Carol Danvers, Captain Marvel. She has suffered so many crises: from alien experimentation to involuntary impregnation to powers negation to incessant inebriation to cultural cancellation in 2019. And, Carol still maintains her sanity.
"Yet other heroes have even harder origins. For some, his or her awful impetus to eminence is the murder of a loved one. A lot of heroes have that unimaginable origin. Beyond them, certain superb souls have survived a genocide and then decided to share superlative good with the globe.
"I shall never get past my own trauma. Not entirely. But, I have to admit that—tragically—I am not at all alone in tragedy. I have to have that perspective, in fairness, in sympathy. Some people have had it worse and still choose to make the world a better place. They encountered monsters, but they didn't become them."
"Bitterness' blight visited, but they became something beautiful," interjects the eminent evil-doer, "I suppose that 'supervillains' are exceptional beings who let bitterness beckon and consume them. They don't get beyond life's inequalities, injustices, and ugly events; then, they create an identity to get even with the world instead of advance it."
The earthly angel allows Trapster his temporary wisdom. After a few ticks, she says, "I shall let you explore your own conscience. In honesty, I cannot deny that some darkness directs me too. Sometimes, a devil-may-care adventurer arrives from damned events. You see, the rape ruined the really neat life that a young gal had planned. So, nothing has fully mattered afterward. I might as well risk remaining life and limb against ungodly adversaries, for. . . . . You see, I don't see myself as 'damaged goods', but I shall always be . . . damaged goods. So, I shall always be selfless—because I had better be. Maybe, the hurt makes me a better hero."
Pensively, Pete Petruski ponders who is more pathetic: the hero or the villain. A hero, such as present company, often suffers pain and seeks justice for all, almost selflessly. A villain, by contrast, suffers the same but seeks revenge and vain vindication.
As though psychic, the superheroine speaks, "Don't mistake me for pathetic though. I refuse to be that."
"Oh," utters Trapster, "I believe you. But, how so?"
She stops a second and stays silent for several. The strong she inhales sharply and exhales smoothly like one who stores a bothersome bogey behind her breastplate.
Shoulders squared, she speaks, "As expressed, everyone endures after some dark and awful event, if she or he lives long enough. And, frankly, I emphatically admire those survivors most who lack amazing abilities existent in a marvelous setting. By the powers that be, I get to regularly rectify the world and witness justice occur again and again. Most survivors have neither my remarkable abilities nor my incredible circumstances. They are heroes for having such patience, champions for having such fortitude, saints for enduring injustice, and exemplars for advancing forward out of life's lowest points. It is hard fact. Superheroes don't have it like regular, real people reading Marvel at the spin rack.
"That truth aptly acknowledged, I educate you, Pete, about my own situation—which I share with many survivors of sexual violence. Let's talk stigma.
"As you know, Marvel Comics report and reflect our reality. They cover all sorts of atrocious things, from mutant prejudice to blockbusting brawls to planetary obliterations. But, their tales rarely touch one subject, and that is rape. Marvel Comics doesn't present that one—no matter how common it is.
"Do you know why?"
"No one is comfortable with the topic," Petruski pats perspiration that has gathered throughout this conversation. If a man is uncomfortable with the topic, good!
"That's right! Stigma," remarks Kate "Hawkeye" Bishop, Avenger, "Consider this. I have. I work with some of the best beings in the world. Captain America, Hawkeye, She-Hulk, and Stature are exemplary good souls. However, truly, Earth's Mightiest Heroes might not know what to say if they ever knew my full story. I suspect and fear that.
"Consider this. I associate with some of the hardest heroes and toughest villains around. I don't need judgement and pity from the likes of Black Widow or Sub-Mariner. Certainly, I do not need society's most superlative scumbags' disrespect and derision because some dips* utterly stole my dignity once.
"I shall avenge my younger self instead. And, more importantly, I shall be an Avenger for all."
Abruptly, the Avenger and the room go intensely quiet. And, the only ambient din is human respiration, the fridge over yon, and rumbling NYC traffic outside.
Against the wall, Trapster appraises her situation and his mission. Peter probes, "So. You aren't after Barthson, Dwyer, Dean of Students Beatty, or Bentley?"
"No, and I mean no," pronounces the woman. For the rest of her life, she will just have to be the better man.
With wondrous deftness, the archer unslings her bow and notches an arrow before Trapster can talk further. He would likely fuss further for what he wants (after twice losing face to Wizard). For what he wants for her.
Perilous point aimed, the Avenger informs and instructs, "I have said what I wish. Now, get the f* out of here before I put an arrow in you to the feathers."
Trapster stands to exit. A bit angrily, he expresses, "Fine. Okay. I will keep your secret and respect your wishes."
Peeved, Paste-Pot Pete is very tempted to spring a trap and pay her back for impudently rejecting his advanced agenda. He really wanted to have his way. Sulkily, he shuffles off after going to so much trouble for this little talk.
"Thank you for visiting," the vigilante tells Trapster's back. Within, Hawkeye wonders whether letting a villain—or two—go is wise.