Seventeen years he’d been working behind the scenes, and what thanks had he got? All the other heroes ignored him most of the time, except when they needed him to do what he did best.
The costume tore every time he was in a fight. It was all patches now. The oldest patches looked a mouldy grey instead of the vibrant green they’d once been.
Whenever people saw him on their rooftops or soaring in the sky, they would shake their heads and turn away. They didn’t know how much he’d done for them.
‘The Dragonfly’. Maybe if he’d chosen a better costume or a sexier name. Or perhaps it was the way he dealt with villains that was the problem. Cannibalism was considered a bit unsavoury, after all. The heroes never invited him to their dinners either. Socialisation was a prerequisite to acceptance and he was deprived of it.
So it was hardly a surprise when he turned into a villain. Better money, for one thing. He got a darker costume, and a mask that covered his whole face instead of just the eyes. He told the league of heroes over the phone. He wrote a letter to the city council.
No one noticed.