.04 - [text] - [unfiltered; Banner equiv. of drunk post]
For the last seventeen years of my life, I've been in the business of making gods. In a world where super and meta are prefixes that have become the norm---metahumans, supersoldiers, supervillains---the boldest and the brightest were recruited to push the inevitable evolution of mankind. Natural mutations are rare, and they end up being so downtrodden by the time they get to adulthood they almost never want to work for the government. Then you have Xavier's shepherding methods and...it really only made sense to make heroes. It'd been done before, after all. The man who became Captain America had been sickly, weak, and dumb as a brick before they made him into a supersoldier. If that isn't the American dream, what is? Something out of nothing. No, more than that: everything out of nothing. That was what Pym and I did. We made heroes out of nothing---or, at least that was what we started out hoping to do.
Mostly, we ended up with monsters.
And now I sit here with a bottle of wine---red, if that makes any difference---and wonder where things got so derailed. I wonder where my personal drives became obsessions; I wonder if there is anything I could have done to stop it.
I wonder if my life is a cautionary tale, and if so, for whom? I wonder if I'll survive this monster in my blood.
My bloodwork is changing. It's in flux; my humanity is debatable most of the time, now. Do you know how hard it is to admit to something like that? To say that you're not technically human, even when you're wearing a man's face?
To be perfectly honest, I'm terrified. This little facility I've built for myself in the basement isn't nearly sophisticated enough to tell me what to anticipate, and I don't think there are enough people in this city that I trust to ask for help. Bruce Banner has become the failure condition.
I wonder how long it will take for the monster to render the man obsolete.
The next time I change, I might not come back from it.
I need more wine, but I'm not sure if I can stomach sleeping right now. | [end post: personal log 6/7/09]
[ooc: bottle of wine, bad bloodwork, LJ-like unlocked post is go. Replies will be spotty]
Mostly, we ended up with monsters.
And now I sit here with a bottle of wine---red, if that makes any difference---and wonder where things got so derailed. I wonder where my personal drives became obsessions; I wonder if there is anything I could have done to stop it.
I wonder if my life is a cautionary tale, and if so, for whom? I wonder if I'll survive this monster in my blood.
My bloodwork is changing. It's in flux; my humanity is debatable most of the time, now. Do you know how hard it is to admit to something like that? To say that you're not technically human, even when you're wearing a man's face?
To be perfectly honest, I'm terrified. This little facility I've built for myself in the basement isn't nearly sophisticated enough to tell me what to anticipate, and I don't think there are enough people in this city that I trust to ask for help. Bruce Banner has become the failure condition.
I wonder how long it will take for the monster to render the man obsolete.
The next time I change, I might not come back from it.
I need more wine, but I'm not sure if I can stomach sleeping right now. | [end post: personal log 6/7/09]
[ooc: bottle of wine, bad bloodwork, LJ-like unlocked post is go. Replies will be spotty]