Hench (Hench, #1)

by Natalie Zina Walschots

superheroes, for all their good PR, were terrible for the world. They were islands of plastic choking the oceans, a global disaster in slow motion. They weren’t worth the cost of their capes; whatever good they did was wiped out many times over by the harm.

“Doc Proton told me, ‘You make your own nemesis.’ I didn’t understand it then. I thought it was one of those things a rambling old hero said to sound wise. But it’s been absolutely true. Every evil, every great power that has ever risen to challenge me, every archvillain who’s ever been an actual threat, was someone whose path I altered. I set our enmity in motion, every time. A tiny action can cause an avalanche.”

“Self-deprecation has splash damage.” “Why are you being so goddamn wise.”

“To seek vengeance and power instead of cowering when the world punishes you. That’s what they think evil is, do they not?”

“Oh, sure, people raid supermax complexes and overthrow superheroes for their bosses all the time.” “I’m a penal abolitionist, superheroes are a scourge, and he gives good benefits.”

Without the rattle and thrum of movement to distract me, I found myself becoming intimately aware of everything happening in and to my body. I could feel where the seams of all my clothes pressed in, the tag at the back of my collar scraping gently against my neck, the way the fabric folded and clung to the backs of my knees. I was aware of all the funny little aches and itches where my body had healed, or was forever healing. I could feel my heartbeat in all my pulse points, not a nervous flutter but a steady, defiant cadence. I felt a strange, overwhelming tenderness for my body all of a sudden. It had been through a lot.