Codename: Athena
I can’t beat him, I never can. I was always told I don’t know when to quit, it was either that or that I’m too foolish to listen to my pleading conscience. He’s punched me through buildings, their skeletons crumbled around me as I crashed through them, he’s closed his fists together and pummeled my chest with them, knocking me through eleven floors. Afterwards, he crashed into me with his feet as I was still falling, riding the momentum all the way down another six stories until we collided into the ground floor. But he never kills me, my healing factor lets me endure more abuse than I’d ever care to. I think he enjoys it, making me suffer; He knows he’s stronger than me, faster and more durable, so he’s tried to break me, over and over and over again. It’s to the point I’m starting to think my moxie is a crippling weakness, that and my enchantingly irresistible charm.
Ha.
The truth is, I’m terrified, every time, but even more so than that, I’m angry. That brains over brawn thing? It’s fucking bullshit, a lot of good my wit does when my jaw is getting smashed to pieces. It’s infuriating, why does he get to be the one that’s stronger? The same man that uses his powers to kill and destroy without restraint. Another time he picked up a train car with one hand and hit me with it like I was a tennis ball. I usually get a couple good hits in, trading blood, bruises and broken bones for what few lives I can save. The last time we met, he caught my punch mid swing and bent my arm back, snapped it like a branch in a hurricane, laughed as he did it too, sometimes I think he surprises himself at how superior his might truly is. They call him Behemoth, just some dumb guy that got a big head after he gained his powers; Why should, a “god”, as he so calls himself, be concerned with the opinions of ants? Once you squish one, what’s another? Even if the first time wasn’t entirely on purpose. I mean, my name’s symbolic, it’s not like I actually believe myself to be some deity from a dead pantheon. He’s no bigger than your average man, it’s his presence, his aura of certain death that’s larger than life, looming over you. The other heroes don’t even bother anymore, they wouldn’t survive thirty seconds alone with him. But not me, not Athena, I never back down and I always get back up, despite every pain receptor in my body urging against it. Even now, I brush the dirt off my egg-white uniform as I rise to my feet. Look at him, sitting there on his throne of debris courtesy of our newest demonstration of impromptu demolition, grinning at me like some pompous asshole. I can see legs buried underneath, blood too, the legs and blood of children.
Children.
That smirk of his, he’s proud, and that enrages me, enough for me to scream, and so I do. The dust around me swirls and shifts under my voice, his smirk quickly turns to a look of bewilderment. I can feel my blood pumping faster, the veins in my muscles beginning to bulge, the newfound strength matching the rush of surging confidence I’ve suddenly gained. The thought of someone as his equal must make him furious or at the very least worried, evidenced by his leap into flight, a mad dash to squelch the very flame he lit inside me. As I scream again, he’s sent hurdling back into his throne of chaos, now relegated into a pile of rubble. The tears of frustration falling from my cheeks evaporate before they can fall as I release a third mighty shout, an ephemeral spear and shield materialize in each of my hands. I stare at my hands in disbelief, look to where he landed in awe. I was so consumed by the raw power that I lacked, it never occurred to me I may have other powers than mere brute force. That I may manifest something deeper than “punch hard” to give me an edge, perhaps, I don’t need to be as physically strong as him, there are other ways to measure strength after all. He looks disheveled, not as sure of himself as he typically is. His hands cling to the concrete as he pulls himself up. I ready my recently curated weapons and steady my breathing to go on the offensive, convincing myself not to perish the thought that I might actually have him on his heels. That tonight, I might show the world that none of us, are gods.