Bullied and disregarded, Dustin is going to force everyone to notice him.
High in the tree behind the school, no one could see him with his green skin unless they already knew he was there. Camouflage wasn’t one of Dustin’s powers, but he used it to his advantage, just like his namesake. He adopted the title when he was done with the academy. He thought it was a unique and fitting moniker for his abilities. Apparently, he was the only one. Some people found it interesting, but most ridiculed him for it among other things. But that would change today. No more teasing. No more passing him over. They would always remember The Velvet Worm from now on.
He lived with his grandmother after his parents died. They had a little inheritance they bequeathed to him. It wasn’t much, but it funded his training enough to get into the academy. He worked hard and graduated. His granny said that it would be the place where he would finally find his people. She was wrong. It was just like every other school he went to. On day one, Marcus Breese who took the name Paragon and eventually be the leader of the supergroup The Sentinels said Dustin must have been “bitten by a radioactive dork.” Guffaws and hoots were had all around. When he decided on his name. Marcus called him “Incel Sperm”. He was just another bully in a long line of bullies holding him back.
He applied for membership in The Sentinels again last week but was denied. His power set was never the problem. Dustin failed the personality profile every time. It didn’t help that the person he hated most was the head of the team and had ultimate veto power over who joined. Dr. Monroe, his therapist, told him it was unhealthy to think like that, but Dustin couldn’t help it.
He tried to explain that he was just having a bad day when he threatened the clerk at the store. He’d been there many times and was always friendly with the young woman behind the counter. She had an anti-establishment vibe going with the pink hair and tattoos that Dustin really liked. After months of going there every day, following her on social media, learning her schedule and route to and from work, Dustin screwed up the nerve to ask her out. Suddenly, she had a boyfriend. Dustin knew this was a lie. He’d followed her home and peeked into her windows. She was solitary most of the time. She met with friends at local bars and restaurants, but the girl preferred to stay home and watch TV. Another thing about her that Dustin really liked.
He called her out for her dishonesty. “You don’t have to lie. I know where you live. You don’t have a boyfriend. Just say you don’t want to go out with me.” Her face turned white at those words, and she called 911. Dustin had escalated to ranting about anything from why women were arrogant to where was this so-called “super privilege” everyone was talking about. People in the store videoed the scene. By the time the cops showed up, the video was posted. Dustin was escorted out of the store with a lifetime ban to any of its locations. The video went viral, and whatever slim chances he had for becoming a superhero were gone.
He resented having to be in therapy. They used his many rants on social media about how white men are becoming a permanent underclass as a clear sign of unstable behavior. He was diagnosed with clinical depression, paranoia, obsessive tendencies. They revoked his temporary hero status and ordered him into psychiatric counseling. Dr. Monroe prescribed Lorazepam, Haloperidol and Sertraline. But he was allowed to keep his powers.
His granny opposed that. She thought that Dustin was unhinged and could go off at any moment. The doctors felt he should continue to train with his abilities as it brought him purpose. And legally he hadn’t done anything to warrant his neutralization. After the last rejection, Dustin stopped taking his medication. And he’d had the epiphany that the only thing for him was fame in blood. He would have it today.
It was a simple plan. Go into the school. Use his slime powers to immobilize as many people as he could and start slashing their throats with his claws. Teachers, children, whatever. Didn’t matter. He’d do that until the cops or heroes showed up to stop him, and he would only stop one way. Suicide by superhero. His mark would be made. They’d never say his name the same way again.
He had claws to climb any surface, and his body was more fluid making him able to squeeze through tight spaces. His skin was green, which wasn’t that big of a deal. Many people changed their appearance to look more “heroic”. Colored skin, horns, ornamental fins, or scales, contact lenses were all relatively commonplace. He was stronger, too. Not like Paragon, but stronger than any normal human.
He’d heard of people with synesthesia, being able to hear colors and taste sound, but the concept wasn’t one he understood until his powers manifested. He could “see” with his skin. It was like a series of taut strings were pulled out from every molecule of his body and anything moving through the strings alerted him. And he had the slime powers that he could glop on an opponent to keep from moving. Dustin had all the abilities that made him a good support team member. So then why couldn’t the rest of the world see that? Dr. Monroe told him not to give up on his goal of using his powers to help people. “You’ll find your place.” He said, “It may not be what you expect. Be open for different opportunities.”
The medication helped, but it made Dustin docile and slow. He liked to be sharp, ready for whatever danger might jump up. And danger was everywhere. He had to be ready. The anti-super sentiment was strong and growing stronger. There was a time in the country where superheroes were almost worshipped by the public. Those were better days. When heroes didn’t have their motives questioned. If they had to put a criminal down, that was that. Now, everyone had to bring up their rights. It was a sick world where people, like him, and Dustin by far wasn’t alone in this, would complain about heroes, yet they would be the first responders when the same people were in trouble.
Things used to be simple. Heroes were beacons of hope and freedom. Clear cut. And there was still a strong vocal population that felt the same way. Groups like Men in Masks and Caped Lives Matter showed there were still people that wanted those simpler times back. But, Dustin didn’t see a place where he would ever be appreciated enough to be accepted by the world the way it was now. So, he sat in the tree waiting for the best time to strike.
He had it all worked out. He mapped the best route and entry point from the floorplans he got from the internet. As best as Dustin could tell, minimum, he could take out at least fifteen people. He wanted to break the single day massacre record, but his would be the first known killing spree by someone who had completed the National Superhero Certification. They’d talk for decades about how The Velvet Worm slipped through the cracks of the system. How he exposed the weakness of a program that only looked for power. He wouldn’t be around to see it. Dustin would make sure of that. But his name would be on everyone’s lips: The Velvet Worm. Stone cold killer.
“What’s wrong with our society?” They’d say. “All the red flags were there, but they just didn’t pay attention.” And there was the problem. No one paid attention. No one noticed that Dustin was bullied by the very program he so desperately wanted to be a part of. Thinking about it more deeply over the past week, Dustin came to the realization that it was never for him. They didn’t want free thinking people as superheroes protecting people’s freedoms. They wanted powerful police subjugating citizens. He was an outsider on the inside. And that’s why he had to do this. He didn’t belong. He never would.
Dustin’s heart raced as he pulled out his phone. He stared at the selfie on his home screen. He hadn’t changed it since the academy. He had a sheepish smile next to a gorgeous girl who was blowing a kiss at the camera. Iris. She took that picture with him after they passed the trial in their first year. He scored well. Not the best in the class, but it was a respectable showing, and Dustin felt he was on his way. Iris gave him a huge hug and congratulations. She went on to be known as the superhero Lady Liberty. He’d been put on probation.
He stuffed his feelings of nostalgia and unrequited lust down and opened his social media accounts. He had so many drafts of what he wanted to say. Manifestos that pontificated about the people left behind like trash. Declarations of the death of true freedom. In the end, Dustin thought enigmatic was the way to go. The less he left behind, the more they would talk about him. “It’s about to go down! The Velvet Worm strikes!” Nothing else needed to be said. He could already hear the pundits in their round table discussions screaming disagreements at each other. Chaos was its own reward for a man forgotten. This would be his legacy, and he looked forward to it.
He took a deep breath and squatted down to leap onto the roof of the school. His plan was to go in from above. The more time he had to descend, the more casualties. He took one step off his tree branch when Dustin heard a commotion coming from behind him. A car was speeding to the school. The high pitched snarl of the engine made him tilt his head as it accelerated to the fence around the building. There was one final push of the engine before it slammed through the barrier and came to a stop at the front door. Two people got out. There were dressed in all black. Dustin couldn’t see their balaclava covered faces. He’d been on enough tactical supply websites to know they were wearing body armor. Each of them carried a rifle and had another slung over their backs. Without a wasted movement, the duo opened fire on the school’s glass doors and ran inside.
Dustin planned his assault to the second. He studied the layout of the school for a week. His route was solid, and his potential for mayhem was high. And along come two jerkoffs with guns to do what other have already done and steal his thunder. Dustin thought about all the times he was called a failure or a loser. Turns out he couldn’t even go to a school that others didn’t have their eye on. He gritted his teeth and cursed himself.
This was his swan song. This was supposed to be the thing by which he would be remembered, his legacy. Along came two keyboard warriors with their daddy’s guns to screw it up. Dustin was The Velvet Worm! He walked the walk. He wasn’t some fat roleplaying game nerd living in a basement complaining about everything but doing nothing about it. He was a superhero! He was going to show the world how badly the system operated. He would break the wheel. And wasn’t about to let anyone steal his thunder. Dustin crouched low and leapt for the roof.
He landed into a forward roll and squeezed into the top floor using the air conditioning vent. There were maybe 6 people in the world that had a power that allowed them to squeeze into spaces that small. He slithered through the rectangular tube until he found the intake in an office. It was empty. He punched the vent off and dropped down into the room. It was eerily quiet. Dustin didn’t expect chaos before he started, but assumed there would be some activity. His training flashed in his head and remembered that a school would go on lockdown at the first sign of a threat. There were a few seconds between the gunmen running into the school and Dustin sneaking in. The administrators must have reacted faster than he expected, which meant the cops were already on their way. That just decreased his body count. He had to act fast if he wanted to still make a name for himself.
He opened the door and ran into a hallway. It was deserted and dark. New protocol turned the lights off during a lockdown. A lone locker about 2/3 of the way down the hall was open with a backpack on the ground in front of it. The doors to every classroom were shut. Dustin sunk the claws from his hands and feet into the wall and shimmied up the side attaching himself to the ceiling. He crawled along staying tight to the surface attracting as little attention as possible. He made his way down the stairway to where the gunmen had come in. Maybe he could catch them before they stole any of his kills.
He stopped and remained perfectly still when he felt the air shift around him. Someone was coming his way. Whoever it was would be his first kill. Dustin didn’t care if it was a gunman, a child or and teacher. This would be the start of his footprint, his indelible mark on the world.
It was a man dressed all in black. He was wearing body armor, and his face was covered by a helmet, a full mask, and goggles. His rifle, military style with an extended magazine and a scope, was held out in front of him like he was invading a hostile building. Dustin could smell his sweat, his eagerness. He was alone. They must have split up to inflict maximum carnage. Smart.
The man was partially encumbered with his gear. Extra magazines, smoke grenades, a second rifle, two handguns. He came prepared. Ready for onslaught. Dustin watched the man intently from the ceiling as he walked underneath. As he got closer, Dustin saw that the man was wearing night vision goggles. He thought if he remained perfectly still, he could drop down on the gunman when he passed. But he was a second too late in his thoughts. The man raised his gun to the ceiling and unloaded a barrage of bullets and obscenities.
Velvet worms are not commonly known. They’re in a phylum all by themselves. But they are akin to insects and arthropods. One wouldn’t expect a worm to have keen reflexes, but like their evolutionary relatives, they have increased strength for their size. In tandem with his ability to sense air movement, Dustin developed a combination heightened agility and danger sense. The gunman was still firing in the spot but The Velvet Worm already rolled to the side. The bullets must have hit a pipe because the sprinkler system came on and showered the hall. Screams from inside the closed classroom doors accompanied the rain from the sprinkler heads.
The gunman took a half a second to raise the goggles off his face. But it may as well have been an eternity. Dustin dropped from the ceiling and smashed the assailant with both hands. He had just enough time to see the gunman’s eyes grow wide in shock right before he sunk his claws into him. He fell to the ground in a lump, unmoving.
A door creaked open behind him, and Dustin turned to see a teacher peeking through the crack in the door. “Stay back!” Dustin said. “I saw two come in. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.” He didn’t know why he said it. He could’ve run into the class and wasted everyone there. Fifteen minutes ago, Dustin would’ve said it was because he was saving the kills for himself. Hearing the shrieks from the children and smelling their fear, now he wasn’t sure. The teacher nodded her head and slammed the door.
He loved the water. Even before he got his powers, Dustin loved swimming and boating. Hell, anything involving water. He would go outside the morning after a rain and throw sticks into the gutters then watch the running water take the stick all the way down the block and into the drain. He stood in the hallway soaked to the bone and feeling stronger by the second.
He felt splashing footsteps coming closer. The smell. Sweat, lust for violence, even gunpowder. Dustin sensed it all through his hypersensitive skin. He didn’t have time to hide, and Dustin didn’t want to risk more gunfire. Someone could get hurt by a stray bullet. Why did he think that? What happened to his plan? With no time to explore his new feelings, Dustin started to run to the footsteps. The second man came around the corner with his rifle held down. He looked at Dustin who was at least twenty feet away. Then he looked at his friend lying in a pool of his own diluted blood.
The man went to raise his gun. The look on his face was beyond rage. He shouted as he took aim. Dustin, as quick as he was, had no time to close the distance before the man fired. He had one chance. Two pores under Dustin’s ears opened and he shot out thin streams of sticky goo. It looked like two strands of silly string being launched from either side of his face. Dustin twisted and dodged most of the assault rifles sortee, but he felt bullets hit his legs. He screamed.
When he looked up, the gunman was struggling with being covered in a layer of slime. The more he struggled, the more the slime wiggled its way into his clothes, making him and anything he was holding (i.e., his rifle) almost frictionless. He squirmed on the floor screaming and trying to stand only to fall again.
Dustin’s legs stung. The pain sizzled his entire lower body. He dropped his hand to where he was shot to apply pressure. Dustin grimaced at the touch and cursed his ineptitude. One kill. And it wasn’t even anyone in the school. One measly kill. All his planning, all his work and study, and in the end all the bullies were right about him. He was a loser that was going to die nameless and unknown.
The water started to wash the slime off the gunman, and he stood pulling his reserve rifle off his back. Dustin acted on instinct and jumped into the man knocking him to the ground He slashed at his armor and pummeled his helmet. The man tried to fight, but Dustin was too strong. The Velvet Worm hammered the man’s head until his screaming stopped and his headgear completely caved in. Dustin towered over his kill and saw there were no wounds on himself. He could barely stand the agony, but there was no blood. He patted himself where he was hit. Even a feather soft touch made him wince. He just got hit at point blank range from an AR-15, and to that point Dustin had no idea he was bullet proof. With only two kills now, he didn’t feel any better about his accomplishments. He saw the handgun on the dead man’s hip. If he ended it himself, maybe that would be enough for people to talk about him, but he wasn’t even sure if the bullet would do anything. He should’ve anticipated something going wrong. A smart man, a well-trained man would have planned for contingencies. He seethed hovering over his paltry two bodies. The FBI wouldn’t even call it a mass killing.
The water spray from the sprinklers ended, and Dustin looked at his work ashamed. At least he stopped them.
He felt shifting in the air. Several people were coming. This was his chance to go down in history. Dustin may have been able to survive a couple of bullets from one guy, but a squad of cops firing would take him down if he attacked them. Wouldn’t they? He braced himself to attack. They rounded the corners on opposite sides of the hall.
“On the ground!” They screamed, “Get on the ground! Face down! Hands on your head! Now!” A dozen cop voices blended. Dustin crouched as they raised their weapons, just as the doors to the classrooms burst open.
“No!” Yelled the children running. They collided into him with as much as their tiny bodies could manage. “He saved us!” They yelled. “Don’t hurt him!” They screeched. Cops were shouting. Kids were crying. Some even fell into the pooled water. The police were wading through the throng of balling grateful children to get at their would-be assailant. Dustin held his arm out to his sides and flinched at the pain in his legs every time a kid hugged him. It wasn’t until the teachers forced their voices above the din explaining that the green-tinged hero saved them all that the cops relaxed.
The police were wary, but they listened and lowered their weapons. Their leader, a heavy-set woman in body armor, ordered her men to escort the children out of the school. “Do you need medical attention?” She said to Dustin. He nodded. “Who are affiliated with?” She said as she helped him walk down the hall.
“Affiliated?” Dustin mumbled. His voice sounded funny. Like he’d been silent for years and these were his first words. His throat ached almost as much as his legs. Every step peppered him with a wave of sharp fire. There had to be some internal damage.
“Yeah. What group are you licensed through?” She asked. He didn’t have a license to use his powers as a superhero. He wasn’t certified. He didn’t answer.
Dustin walked like he was in slow motion. He walked outside the smashed front doors of the school with a police escort to raucous cheering. Two paramedics ran up and helped him down the steps to their ambulance. They checked his vital signs and injuries. He had severe bruising and muscle damage where he was shot, but the EMTs treating him said it wasn’t serious. He’d be as good as new in a couple of weeks. Everything was fuzzy, like his psyche was in a blue-gray cloud. “What is all this?” He managed to grumble as one paramedic checked his eyes for dilation with a pen light.
“Are you kidding?” He said, “You’re goddamned hero. You saved everyone in the school. The only people that got hurt were the assholes with the guns.” The pain in Dustin’s legs bellowed for him to disagree. A gaggle of police were holding back a larger group of reporters barking questions at Dustin. There were too many people speaking at once to decipher anything specific. Dustin shook his head. Until he finally heard one journalist ask. “Who are you?” Dustin went to answer but was cut off by a booming voice.
“That,” The sound rolled over the crowd. “Is The Velvet Worm.” As if like the Red Sea, the crowd parted for the massive leader of The Sentinels. He was a giant so heavily muscled, he made body builders jealous. His red and white cape flowed behind him like an entourage. The crowd looked on in wonder. But Dustin knew Paragon. He would never be one to miss a photo op. Dustin’s heart started to race. The fear of his years of torment rose like the hackles on a junkyard dog. He clenched his jaw and swallowed.
Paragon walked up to Dustin, smiled, and sat down next to him in the back of the ambulance. He put his arm around Dustin pulling him closely. The difference in size was comical. “This man,” Paragon said with force and sincerity, “Is not a certified hero. But his actions today will certainly make me reevaluate his application. His selflessness and bravery saved every person in this school. With no regard for his own safety, he thrust himself like a shield between the purveyors of evil and the citizens of the city. We owe him a debt, we cannot repay.” Diplomatic and resolute, Paragon spoke like a man running for public office. Everyone around him joined in applauding The Velvet Worm.
He stood and pulled Dustin to his feet. Paragon was like a mountain dwarfing him. Dustin grimaced. The pain killer the paramedics gave him hadn’t started working yet. The massive superhero stuck out his hand for Dustin to shake it. Dustin grabbed it and felt like a baby shaking the hand of an adult. Cameras clicked and flashed catching the image. Paragon patted him on the shoulder once more and smiled. He walked away, but before he sunk into the murder of reporters who were anxious to get a soundbite from him, he turned back and yelled, “Hey Worm. Nice work.” Dustin watched him disappear into the tide of bodies, and grinned with the realization that he found the fame he’d been seeking by saving the school. He walked to the journalist’s shouting questions determined to answer them all.
————————————————————–
Granny made him keep his appointment with Dr. Monroe. It had been two days since the incident at Shelton Elementary, and Dustin was still reveling in the fame of being a hero. He’d received calls from leaders of hero teams all over the country asking for him to apply. Lady Liberty called with congratulations, and it felt good to hear her voice again. The girl at the corner store cancelled her restraining order, but he didn’t feel the need to see her again. He was better than some cheap convenience store clerk.
In truth, Dustin felt like he was better than Dr. Monroe now, at least he felt better about himself. He didn’t need him anymore. Dustin was neck deep in what he’d always wanted. And he’d earned it through pain and sacrifice. He was willing to give his life for his current position, but through an odd twist of fate, he no longer had to. The scenario could not have played out better if he had written it down and sold it as a screenplay.
He opened the door to the office labelled Dr. William Monroe, M.D.s. It was a beautiful workspace. Dark hardwood floor, plush furniture, muted earth tones. Tasteful watercolor paintings hung on every wall. The plump receptionist was on the phone with some nobody, Dustin figured, and held the receiver to her chest. “Go right on in Mr. Deeley. Dr. Monroe is expecting you.” Dustin was mildly perturbed she didn’t give him any congratulations or recognition of his accomplishments. Normally, he would have addressed that with the good doctor, but seeing as how this would be his last visit, Dustin didn’t see the point. He had so many fans now, he didn’t need her. Just like he didn’t need these sessions. He was a celebrity. He called the shots.
Dr. Monroe was sitting behind his desk writing in a notebook. His square glasses rested at the tip of his bulbous nose. He looked up as Dustin closed the door behind him. The doctor stood and walked around his desk taking off his glasses and putting them in the pocket of his burgundy cardigan. After the initial formalities of shaking hands and offering a bottle of water, which Dustin politely declined, Dr. Monroe motioned for Dustin to sit on the couch. The doctor sat in the wingback chair across from him. He crossed his legs and opened the notebook he was just writing in.
“You’ve had quite the week.” The doctor said resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin in his hand. He wasn’t smiling. Dustin thought that was odd. So far, the only people that didn’t seem impressed with what he’d done were in this office. Even Granny fawned over him a little. Dustin shifted in his seat.
“Yes. It’s something, huh?” He wanted Dr. Monroe to recognize his accomplishment. That the medication and the counseling wasn’t what he needed. What Dustin needed was to be seen for what he was: special. Unique.
“Yes. It’s quite a thing you’ve done. All those kids…saved.” The way he paused between the words made Dustin shift in his seat again. “Have you been taking your medication?”
“C’mon Doc. You know I don’t need that stuff anymore.”
Dr. Monroe scribbled something in his notebook. “Was there something you wanted to talk about today?”
“Um…no. Not really. Granny made me come. She said I started so I should finish.”
“I see.” More scribbling. “You’re being reconsidered for certification, you know? It hinges on my recommendation.” Dustin rubbed his hands together. He suddenly felt heat in his belly. A righteous fury starting to simmer. Who the hell was this peon to hold his future over his head like the sword of Damocles?
“Yeah?” Dustin half snarled/half grinned. “What’s your assessment then? Don’t leave me hanging.”
“I’m withholding that for now. Just like I’m withholding that you’ve been in my care for weeks.” Dustin’s face went white. “Now that you’re famous, it’s going to come out that you have court ordered psychiatric care. To be honest, I’m surprised it’s been hushed this long.”
Dusting said nothing. He tried to play it cool. He sat back and forced a relaxed posture, but he felt exposed. Too open. He went back to rubbing his hands together.
“Tell me, Dustin: How did you know how to get in the school? That shaft you snuck in through seems like it would take some pretty intimate knowledge of the building. I know you told the press you happened to be walking by and saw the gunmen enter, but how did you know where to get in?”
“What do you mean?” Dustin answered with nervous laughter speaking quickly and stammering over his words with “uh”s and “um”s. “I climbed to the roof and snuck in through the vent.”
“Yes. That’s what you said. I’m asking how did you know where to go? And why didn’t you confront the gunman on the ground floor when you saw them shoot the front door? You probably could have stopped them there. Why take the time to climb up and get in? Seems like a waste of precious seconds for someone who has gone through extensive hero training.”
Dustin was scratching the backs of his hands and bouncing his legs up and down. “What the hell difference does it make?” His voice cracked but he didn’t shout. “I got in and took them down. I’m a fucking hero. The school is even changing their mascot to The Velvet Worms!”
“You potentially saved every person in that school. I’m just trying to understand what your thought process was.” He flipped through the pages in his notebook and tapped a page with his pen. “You posted on social media ‘It’s about to go down. The Velvet Worm strikes.’ several minutes before the gunmen entered the school. Either you knew they were going to be there, which then begs the question why you didn’t alert the authorities, or you were already there for some other reason when the gunmen arrived.”
“I saved all those people, and you know it.” Dustin was constantly adjusting his sitting position and sweating. “No one wants to focus on that. Everyone wants to know why.”
“Not everyone, Dustin. Just me. Why were you there?”
Dustin didn’t answer, but he cleared his throat. The backs of his hands were rubbed raw from scratching.
Dr. Monroe leaned forward and lowered his voice. “The school is nowhere near your grandmother’s house, and not close to any of the places you normally go. What were you doing in that neighborhood?”
“I was just…walking around.” Dustin mumbled, not meeting the doctor in the eye.
“You don’t think people have already figured out the video of the person raving at the convenience store is the same person that saved,” he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “The school? The truth is going to come out, Dustin. Where would you rather it come out? Here?” He held up a smart phone. “Or here?” Dr. Monroe motioned around the room. “I’m here to help you. But I can’t if you’re not honest.” Dustin didn’t say anything, but he broke down crying. Dr. Monroe got up and sat next to him. Handing him a box of tissues. “Everything I’m asking you, the pressure you’re feeling, is nothing compared to what the public will do. They’ll go through your life with a fine-toothed comb. They’ll invade your privacy and harass your grandmother.” Dr, Monroe grew deadly serious, and he put his hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “They’ll find out about your sessions and how you haven’t been taking your meds. My guess is some people have already put two and two together. They’re going to figure out why you were there. What do you think they will think of you then?”
Dustin rubbed his hands and rocked back and forth. “I don’t know what to do.” He bawled.
“You don’t have to know. But…” The doctor sat with his back straight. “I can’t recommend your certification.”
Dustin’s initial reaction was anger which flowed to disappointment that morphed into understanding. “Yeah.” He said.
“You did something heroic, but let’s not pretend that’s why you were there in the first place.”
Dustin spilled his feelings. And promised he would take his meds and not speak publicly about the school. He set up weekly visits with Dr. Monroe. He promised to delete his social media accounts and gave up on his dream of being a hero.
That’s what he told the doctor. And that’s what he would tell his granny. Saying what they wanted to hear was easy. He would wing it until he found the right place for The Velvet Worm to do his thing. There were other schools, other places where he could still make his mark. And there were other like-minded heroes that were set aside from the system because they were determined to be unfit, by a system that had gone soft.
Dr. Monroe could have just backed him up. He could have made all those stupid questions go away. Just more negativity he didn’t need. More of the same people that are destroying the fabric of the country. But Dustin would show them what was coming. He would still make his mark instead of being a novelty. He would do whatever it took to make heroes great again.