There is a world where superhumans fight villians as most people know they do. As always, the destruction wraught by villians are given special pretense by the government. Construction is incredible, everything is practically fixed overnight by the super heroes who are able to recreate. As with most people in positions of power, superheroes are somewhat similar to celebrities. Many boys hang up posters of their favorite superheroines, and many girls hang up pictures of the hunkiest superheroes. Society is practically based around superheroes and their amazing feats of strength and power.

Meeting a hero is rare and often dangerous since they only show up when shit hits the fan, but to meet one is truly a gratifying experience. Someone once theorized that suicide rates are up because most people stand on rooftops waiting for a hero to come. Indeed, they would show up, but only if they happened to notice your sad life in need of saving. If they didn't see you on the way to fighting a giant slime monster, then you'd be fucked. The thing is, a hero always has to be the hero, but a villian has absolute freedom in their choices.

To make an example, let's say that a hero and a villian walked past a person about to jump off a cliff. The hero would try to talk him down, or at the very least try to save their miserable life, with no other option as to their choices. Meanwhile, a villian is free to do whatever they choose. They could pull the sorry sap off the cliff, or they could give him a push to send him on his way. A villian could do anything he wants, no worry about obligation or responsibility. If a villian wanted to jump with the man, they could do that because there are no responsibilities that come with being a villian.

That's why I chose to be a supervillian. The hours are fantastic, the pay is based entirely on my performance, and the freedom is so massive it's actually crushing. Since I can turn my body into lightning and control electricity, robbing banks was my first attempt at supervilliany. I would make off with bags of stolen cash, but the real crime would be when I transfer a million to my offshore account by just touching a computer(I can do that). That was the plan I've been preparing for, and today was the day I was going to put it into action.

The bank I picked was small, just large enough to get a cash flow going, so the security was relaxed and simple. There shouldn't be too much of a fuss, but I should still get a good start as a supervillian.

Samson Marcel stood outside of the small bank near the outdoor fuse box, wearing a large black hoodie with a concealing flap of black cloth covering his face. He could see out of it, but no one would be able to see his face. His heart was beating erratically, but he figured he should get the party started sooner rather than later. Samson reached up and put one hand over the fuse box, letting a single bolt of lightening loose so that the box exploded into sparks. Samson started around the building to see that only the emergency lights were still activated.

Samson entered through the doors and shouted, "Everyone, this is a robbery! Put all the money in the bag or I'll start hurting people!" Everybody looked at this masked man who had come in with no gun or concievable plan. Samson put his finger into the shape of a gun, then a bolt of lightening arced into the cieling with a resounding sonic boom. There were screams that he had super powers, so Samson quickly went to one of the computers and put his hand on it. "Put the money in bags or I swear to god, I'm going to blow up this entire place!"

Samson got bags of money, but in reality he was going to keep those for a rainy day fund. The real money he'd put into an offshore account, nearly two million dollars. Samson ran away with a hundred thousand in the bag and two million in the bank. Not a bad haul for a days work, but the streak was only beginning. There was a highway which passed down four more identical banks, which he robbed one at a time. Each time a stolen car, each time the same hoodie, and each time two million on the side.

Not too shabby for a fourteen year old with no life skills. Now he just had to find out where to keep all of it. Thinking about it, he thought of the old adage, 'Where would you hide a tree?'. So fourteen year old Samson Marcel drove in a stolen car to an empty lot behind a Porsche dealership. He bought a car using a check from his offshore account, then drove it to New York to hide in the forest.

A lot of villians reside in New York, because getting away is fairly easy when you have lots of buildings and people to hide behind. However, that means a lot of superheroes are also stationed in New York, which means they can often run into each other unexpectedly. Battles are commonplace, and even though most people would want to stay away from two supers fighting it out, there's often a lot of collateral damage.