Warning: There is self-harm and mental illness in this story.

"... It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again
—Billy Idol, "White Wedding"

I was nervous. I'll admit that. Maybe even a little bit frightened. This was my first time breaking the law, well breaking the law with intent. If everything went right and according to plan I'd be a criminal, of the international variety. It sounds impressive doesn’t it?

“... and that's the story.” I babbled looking at three women in front of me, the fourth person was still behind me holding a knife to my throat. However I was now inside the villa and not much had changed in the main room since I was last here, the entertainment centre was newer and larger, oh and someone had put down some canvas that I was standing on. Which explained why I had told my story so fast and in such a high pitched voice that likely all the dogs nearby had run for the hills.

I had alot to think about, in a short time I had been kidnapped, become a mutant, died at least three times, changed sex, my mother had been killed and I relived it in her head or my head, been told I was a prisoner on a submarine, the only person who seems to have any redeeming qualities is one of my kidnappers, oh and apparently I smell.

When people talk about Karedonia depending on who they are various images pop up in your head. Massive engineering project and Wonder of the Modern Age, shining example of how a supervillain can turn over a new leaf, hellhole of human rights abuses, the place to do cutting edge research, newest resort hot spot in the world, wretched hive of scum and villainy, the money laundering capital of the world (a fact much in dispute among other tax havens), pioneer in deep earth mining, a brave social experiment...etc etc. Basically Karedonia is a bit of everything to everyone. What they don't talk about is how to find it. Most people don't need to worry about that bit, they just board a plane and it's the pilot's problem, or a boat and it's the captain's problem, or have their minions take care of it. You get the idea. 

Thinking about things from the benefit of hindsight I'm realizing the thing is I don't know how my story begins, with Mom's long career in supervillainy, or with me and my sister, or when I was attacked?

The day had started badly for a lot of people. It wasn't getting better.

A few twists and turns led to a standard interview/interrogation room in a distant way I noticed the smell of new paint and bleach. My hand cuffs were locked to the table and someone did something to the collar device that I guessed was affecting my powers. The room kinda faded out a bit as I just grew more tired, all I wanted was to be left alone, why doesn't this stop, I just want it to stop.

People talk about having choices all the time, or doing the 'right thing', I keep trying not to go off on their pointy little heads, looking back on it all I never really had a choice until all my choices had been made for me. I'm pretty much over that now but I still find myself thinking about that in the oddest times, like now.

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