I want my innate superpowers to kick in now.
Seriously. I’ll take anything. Even the lame powers.
(Well, not some of the lame powers, Bouncing Boy.)
It’s just that television and movies and comic books had convinced me that, by this age, an alien race or somebody would have come up to me and been like, “Hey, Lokifire! You’re the only one that can save our race!”, and then I’d be off having space adventures and having steamy hot sex with space princes and using my superpowers.
Sure, there’d be times when I’d be tempted to give in and fall to evil, and hell, maybe I’d do it. I don’t know. (Actually, given my misanthropic view of humanity in general, I think I’d turn evil pretty quick, but let’s not share that with the authorities, ‘kay?) But the important thing, and I mean this is the important thing, would be: superpowers. Also the steamy hot space sex. That is also important.
In fact, screw the adventuring and the superpowers. Somebody deliver me a space prince, and stat.