The Stigma (by Koltin Scott)

Chap. I

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players."

–Shakespeare, As You Like It, ii, 7

...10 years later

I sat at my office thinking, studying nuclear radiation. I did some shopping on DarkSide earlier today but I kept struggling with finding a solution to my dilemma. With the technology today, there is still no way to get rid of radioactive waste other than cleaning up fallout.

All I had on was my radioactive insulation and pajamas. The insulation makes me look like I just jumped out of a computer chip Super Bowl. Waya, the first kid I saved, was out in the city robbing banks or chasing women.

"Godfather," a little voice called from behind me, I turned to meet Sarah's gaze, "are you going to town today?"

"Yep."

"More thinking?"

"Yep," a little more enthusiastically.

I told the children to call me Godfather, my favorite book. Not only was it my favorite book but I didn't have the strength to have them call me 'sire.' We call everyone by the super name that the person chooses, like Waya, it means Wolf. (Sarah is six, yes she chose the name. No, my super name is not Godfather, but I am like literally their Godfather.)

I bid the others farewell over a comm, told everyone where I was going 'n such, (my house is goryDang HUGE,) and a put on my dirty clothes. Kinda like my disguise, can't be walking around downtown with a cape on unless your looking to get shot at. Although... the cape is WAY more stylish.

Anywho...

I don't go unprotected. My leather jacket and pants are inlined with carbon nanofiber, rendering them bulletproof from distant small arms fire. I also have my hidden tasers in my sleeves and a grappling hook in a backpack, and I didn't even mention my smartphone has a emergency alert I can send out if I need my goons that I hired seven years ago.

Going through the customs area hidden in the forests of my land I cursed the moped I was on. It can go two-hundred, but I don't have a death wish. The base of the handlebars holds a hidden compartment for a grenade mounted M4 that I can carry or magnetically mount at will.

I got plenty of other things up my sleeves as well. The backpack has a parachute and the bulletproof moped has a nasty self destruct feature. These only name a few of the gadgets I have

The city is more depressed than it was ten years ago. A lot more smog and debris in the air. Tons of Ho-bos who might shoot guns for room and board.

If I think about it, all the country is in a second Great Depression. Then the whole world is in a depression. The law is getting weaker and weaker, and I want it that way.

Not that I purposely try to make things worse, but I don't try to stop it. Anarchy would do the corrupt government some good. I fight for the problems that me and mine have; no one else.

I saw a few protesters outside government buildings and such. The people are getting more and more ansi about the corruption. The politicians who are smart try to justify their actions with the, air quote, "crime rate", but I hear people wonder if the tax-robbers in office are worse than the super bank robbers. In fact, last year a slew of tax collectors were blackmailed by the international super villain syndicate: The Dragoons. The blackmail resulted in a loss of billions of dollars all going into the syndicates pockets.

I pulled up to a soup kitchen and locked my moped to a light pole via chain and master-lock. The line outside was giant, but one of the workers there waved me to come inside. Daniel, the friendly cook, waited for me at a table.