Power Trip (NSFW)

The TV shut off, just after showing Iron Man completely melting his face off. The room was dead silent, everyone, including me, could do nothing but stare at the whiteboard in shock.

I don't know why, but a grin slowly formed on my face. I grabbed my face with both hands and I just started to quietly laugh to myself. Looking back, I think knowing that I had a hand in killing Iron Man must have caused some sort of mental trauma at that moment. I didn't think it was funny at all, I think I was just using laughter as a coping mechanism.

No one in my class thought of it that way though. They all looked at me as if I was a psychopath, which wouldn't be too far off. I continued to laugh uncontrollably, grabbing my hair as I stared blankly at the now-blank screen in front of the whiteboard.

Besides my laughter, the entire room was silent.

I guess I made quite the first impression, huh?

The bell rang, prompting the sheeple to get up out of their seats and leave the classroom. I continued to sit in my seat for a few minutes, still in disbelief that I was able to do such a thing.

'Am I… Am I just as bad as them?' I thought to myself. During this existential crisis, I found myself feeling weak and vulnerable. I hated this feeling. It was rare that I'd ever feel like I was on the same level or even worse, inferior to these worthless peons beneath me, but whenever I felt this way, I wanted to vomit.

'No. That's not it at all. This is for the greater good. Besides, Iron Man killed himself. The notebook made him do it, not me.' It was true, I technically didn't kill him. Sure, I wrote in the book that he would do those things, but was it really my fault? No, it wasn't. I didn't even know the book was real.

For example, let's say someone gives you a gun that you assumed was fake. It looked like a toy, felt like a toy, and everything. Now let's say that for some reason you point that gun at someone else and you pull the trigger.

Would the consequences of pulling the trigger be your fault? Or would it be the fault of the person that gave you that toy gun?

It wasn't my fault at all. In fact, this was my origin story. This was the moment when I realized that I am now a god. No…

I realized I AM God. The new God of this world.

As I came to this realization, my teacher approached my desk, putting her disgusting hand on my shoulder. She was wearing an Iron Man lanyard around her neck. The sight of it made me want to vomit.

"Apollo? Is everything alright?" She looked at me as if she gave a fuck about me, but I knew she didn't really care. She just wanted me to get up so she can lock up the classroom, go home, and continue on with her useless life that contributed nothing to society.

"I'm fine. Just shocked is all. I can't believe Iron Man just… snapped like that. Anyway, I better get home." I used my fake white boy voice as I spoke and immediately got up from my seat, ending the conversation so I can hurry up and enter the next step of my godhood.

As I walked home, I created a long mental list of heroes whose names I already knew and how I was going to kill them. While walking the streets, I'd grin ever so slightly as people passed me, oblivious to who was in their presence. I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to tell the world that I am God. I wanted them all to bow down beneath me as they did for Tony Stark. I wanted them to idolize me.

However, I knew I couldn't do that. Not yet. I knew I must wait until there was no one left who can defy me.

At this point in my life, I lived with my aunt and uncle. As soon as I got home, I greeted them both and immediately went upstairs into my room. I speed walked over to my desk, sat down, and pulled out the notebook before slamming it on the table. I didn't want my search history to look suspicious, so I looked for a project that I was forced to do about the hero registration all those years back.

Eventually, I found it. In front of me, I had a long list of superheroes who had their identities public. My past self was even nice enough to provide me with pictures of each hero on the list.

I began to chuckle slightly upon knowing how easy it would be to kill those fools. 'Who would have thought that the decision to reveal your identity all those years ago would come back to bite you? Idiots.' I immediately began writing down names. I considered making them all seem like accidents, but even if I spent the time to do that, people would still notice the pattern of heroes dropping like flies, so it'd be a waste of time.

I could have also done something boring like writing one name per week or month or year, making it all look like coincidences, but there are many issues with that terrible strategy.

Number one: It's boring.

Number two: There are too many geniuses in this world who would figure out that it was a pattern, even if I did my best to hide it. The bigwigs were likely already looking into how Iron Man died, knowing it must have been some sort of mind control. Heroes dying is a rarity, it'd been years since the last hero death that mattered, so after just a single death, there would be a massive investigation.

Number three and most importantly: I love chaos.

Wanting to have some fun, I wrote a few silly deaths for the first few heroes.

'Peter Parker. Death by forced amputation.'

Spider-Man, while fighting Doctor Octopus, attempted to stop a train by using his body as a makeshift brake. He began shooting webs out of his hands, wrapping them around his wrists as he connected them to the nearby buildings. Due to the force of it all and his arms getting tangled up in his own webs, his arms were ripped from their sockets, causing him to fall and become mutilated by the train, killing him almost instantly.

'Reed Richards. Death by shredding'

Reed Richards was driving behind a truck with a wood chipper in the back before getting rear-ended by another vehicle, sending his body through his own windshield and into the wood chipper. The wood shipper somehow activated, shredding the elastic man into pieces of human taffy.

'Sue Rich-'

As I was beginning to write down the name of Sue Richards, I had an idea. I wanted to see what exactly I could make a person do before making them die with the Death Note. I knew by then that I couldn't have them kill, but what were the limits, I wondered. I stared at her half-written name with a crooked smile upon the realization of what I wanted to do.

Sue Richards was my crush throughout my entire life. She was smart, sexy, and everything good in a woman. In fact, she was the only woman in the world that I would deem worthy of breathing the same air as myself.

They're all just so stupid. Selling their worthless bodies on the internet via Instagram or other means because they're not smart enough to do anything of real use. Sue, however, she was different. She was probably the only woman in the world who I'd put in the same intellectual bracket as myself.

Sadly, she was a hero so she had to go in the end, but I had a brilliant idea first.

I headed out once again and booked a motel room under a fake name using cash. After renting out the room, I sat down on the bed and began writing in the Death Note.

"Sue Richards. She travels across the city using her powers, remaining invisible the whole time, until she reaches room thirteen at the motel 6 on Elizabeth St. She then has sex with the boy inside the room. After having sex with him, she heads back to the Baxter Building and completely disintegrates her body inside of one of the machines."

I felt bad about it at first, but then I realized that what I was doing was no different than what most men do. I'm not a rapist. This was one hundred percent consensual.

Tell me, what's the difference between a man paying for sex, whether it be directly, through dates, through gifts, or anything of that nature, and me having her come here and fuck me via her own free will? She's the one who was on her way there with a goal in mind. Others have the goal of money, but her goal was her death.

Sure, if it wasn't for the Death Note, she likely wouldn't have come here to have sex with me. Not because I couldn't pull her, I know I could, but because she's a married woman and she isn't like that normally. Anyway, if it wasn't for money, half of these guys out there would still be virgins. It's the same thing really.

After writing her death, I sat and waited for about two hours and nothing happened. I assumed that it must be due to how elaborate all of it was. 'Damn it.' I said to myself, thinking I had just lost the chance to finally have the woman that I've wanted my entire life, even if it were only for a short time.

*knock knock knock*

Three soft knocks resonated off of the door of my motel room, causing a nasty grin to form on my face once again. The time had finally come. Sue Richards was on the other side of that door.

I looked through the peephole to see that there was nothing there. 'She must still be invisible.' I thought to myself as I turned the knob and opened the door slowly. Immediately, she sprang toward me, becoming visible, revealing her perfect, fit body and long blonde hair before pushing me onto the bed.

She immediately began taking off her clothes before kissing me on the lips, using tongue and all. She was a total slut.

Before long, the two of us were naked and she was on top of me, riding me as if her life depended on it.

'I love being God…' I thought to myself as I switched between glaring at her perfect pretty face and her beautiful round breasts.

After about an hour of sex in different positions, I finally released the floodgates inside of Reed Richards's wife. Doing that inside of a married woman, especially one who's married to one of the people that I despised the most felt amazing.

I wonder if his ghost or spirit was watching helplessly as banged his wife in front of him. I sure hope so.

I wish we could have done it again, but she immediately got up, turned invisible, and exited the room as if she were a robot. 'Ah, it appears my time is up. She's probably going back to the Baxter building now.' As my post-nut clarity hit, I realized I made a fatal mistake, costing me everything.

At this point, there was no turning back. She was already gone and everything that I'd worked up to for this moment went to waste. I couldn't believe that I was dumb enough to make such a foolish mistake, something even a person with the lowest IQ wouldn't forget. I fell to my knees and found myself screaming in the motel room.

It was all ruined.

All of that hard work was in the shitter.

I'll never get a second chance...

I forgot to try fucking her while she was invisible.

I was curious what that'd look like, but I guess I'll never know.

After wallowing in my thoughts of missing out on the once-in-a-lifetime experience, I eventually packed all of my things and headed back to the front office before speaking with the motel owner. I found out his name after a few minutes of chatting, allowing me to write his name in the Death Note as well.

'Joseph Rodriguez. Deletes all records, all camera footage, and burns down the entire motel before jumping into the fire himself and dying.'

Just like that, all traces of my little fling with Mrs. Richards were gone. I headed back home to my aunt's house and back to my room before continuing to write names in the Death Note.

'Johnny Storm' (Human Torch)

'Ben Grimm' (The Thing)

'Natasha Romanoff' (Black Widow)

'Leanord Samson' (Doc Samson)

'Carol Danvers' (Ms. Marvel/Captain Marvel)

'A. G. Bell' (Phone Ranger)

'Jennifer Walters' (She-Hulk)

'Greer Nelson' (Tigra)

'Thor Odinson' (Thor)

'Janet Van Dyne' (Wasp)

'Simon Williams' (Wonder Man)

'Lucas Bishop' (Bishop)

'Scott Wright' (Micromax)

'Ruth Bat-Seraph' (Sabra)

As I jotted all of these names down, I got to a person that made me stop in my tracks. Speedball. His real name is Robert Baldwin. I wanted him to suffer, so I skipped him and opted to wait until I can come up with something torturous enough for my family's killer. In fact, I wanted to be there when he died. I needed to see it for myself.

I knew that he'd be able to piece together that all of these deaths were connected to him. I want him to live with the knowledge that someone out there is coming for him and there's nothing he can do about it. Just for a little while.

I continued to write names

'Melissa Gold' (Songbird)

'Robert Reynolds' (Sentry)

'Patricia Walker' (Hellcat)

'Matthew hawk' (Two-Gun Kid)

'Anya Corazon' (Araña)

'Cassandra Lang' (Stature)

'Kyle Richmond' (Nighthawk)

These were all of the names on the list. It wasn't nearly enough for me to even put a dent in the Avengers, but it was a good enough stopping point.

Immediately, I went to Twitter and scrolled through my timeline to see how others were reacting to my mayhem. On the trending tab, the words 'Heroes', 'Suicides', 'Fantastic Four', 'Avengers', and 'Hero Registration' were all there.

'Perfect.' I thought to myself, smiling crazily and chuckling under my breath as I clicked on the trends to see the different news outlets reporting everyone's deaths. There was even a video of Spider-Man's limbs getting ripped apart as he attempted to stop that train.

I actually sort of liked Spider-Man as a kid, he did often stand up for the little guys, but when he joined Iron Man, I felt betrayed. Him dying in such a way was what he deserved for turning his back on us. Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man my ass.

People online had already begun forming theories about who they think is responsible for the deaths of all of these heroes. Little did they know, they were indirectly helping me out by listing some of my biggest threats.

'Stephen Strange.' (Dr. Strange)

'Wanda Maximoff' (Scarlett Witch)

Those last two, the magic user and the witchcraft user, were far too big of a threat for me to leave alive any longer. Who knows what they could've been capable of, considering the Death Note was probably something they could track down themselves, assuming it was some sort of magic, witchcraft, or sorcery itself.

Coming to another realization, I added onto Doctor Strange's death to ensure my tracks were covered once again.

'Stephen Strange. Destroys the Kamar-Taj before taking his own life.'

This allowed me to get rid of any sort of records or books that could help track down my book if it was magic of any sort. I sort of wished that I could have Scarlet Witch kill everyone, but... It would be boring anyway. Wanda was so powerful, that she could likely kill every hero on her own, but that wouldn't be any fun, would it? I wanted to enjoy this.

How could I be God and let someone else do all of the work for me? That would be pathetic.

Let's say our world, no, my world was a brand new open-world video game. Fresh out of the box. Now let's say Wanda was a save file that somehow ended up on your copy and had one hundred percent completion.

Would you play on that new save file? Skipping out on the story, the exploration, grinding, and all of the other content within the game? That would be pointless, right? That defeats the whole point of playing the game.

This world is MY game and I don't want someone else doing all the work for me, that'll just take away the fun from myself.

As I sat in front of my computer screen, looking through social media and laughing at the chaos, the monitor suddenly shut off. I looked down to see if I had kicked any of the cables, but everything seemed to be in place.

'Weird.' I thought to myself just as I glanced up at the monitor and saw someone staring back at me.

I saw myself, sure, but behind my own reflection was some sort of monster with grey skin and black wings. I swiveled my chair around, allowing myself to stare at the monster face-to-face.

He began to laugh, his red eyes seemed to pierce my soul at this moment. I wanted to scream at the monster, but I was frozen with fear.

Now able to see him clearly, I could see that he seemed to have spikey human hair and an earring in his left ear. His outfit was all black, with a belt around his waist.

After cackling for a few seconds, keeping his gaze on me, he spoke.

"You've taken quite a liking to it."