Lector returned to his room in the skyscraper after Veronica deposited him and Lisa back home. He smiled at the stash of his various favorite candies. Lector popped a chocolate in his mouth before plopping down in his chair. He stared at the ceiling as he chewed on it. Lector was contemplating the things Lisa was saying. He didn’t mind what people thought of him, but he couldn’t help but remember how he came to work for Chaos Corps. When he was younger, Lector was the eldest son in a well-off family. His parents had doctorate degrees in the sciences. They were excited to have a child, and Lector seemed to be developing well enough until he became old enough to go to school. Lector was consistently behind his peers, which alarmed his parents. They did every test on him to see what was causing him trouble but couldn’t come to a conclusion. It wasn’t due to a lack of effort on Lector’s part, though. He wanted to make his parents happy. When his younger brother got into school, his brother flourished. Lector was happy because his brother seemed to make mom and dad happy, and so did his sister after him. Lector’s siblings brought home straight A’s, and we're good at practical things. Lector, however, was lucky if he managed to be a C student, even with tutoring. His teachers did note that Lector was paying attention, and he was a good student. He was not succeeding. They ran more tests, but there seemed to be nothing that would stop him from being competent. Eventually, his parents gave up. “Why can’t you be more like your younger siblings, Lector?” They’d often ask him. “You have consistently been close to failure. Are you even trying?” was another lecture Lector often received. He shrugged it off. He was trying. That’s all he could do. Lector couldn’t help his siblings with school, but they didn’t have to worry about bullies while he was around. Lector’s sister appreciated what Lector could do. It wasn't much, but it was something. She didn't get any unwanted attention. Lector’s suspensions compounded the issues with his parents, though. Lector didn’t care. No one was going to mess with his younger siblings, ever. It wasn’t until he got to home economics that he kind of flourished. Lector was enamored with clothing. His home economics teacher was impressed, and many people started asking his opinion on the latest trends. At parent-teacher conferences, Lector’s home ec teacher sang his praises, presenting a solid portfolio. This prompted a lecture from his father about how men don't do these things. “I don't see what the problem is. The girls seem to like and get along with me well enough,” Lector couldn't grasp what his father was getting at. It was one of those things he shrugged off. This particular interest sparked quite a few arguments between his parents. His father decided that maybe Lector should join the military. He wasn’t going to have much luck doing anything else, in his opinion. If it made his parents happy, Lector would try that when he was old enough. In the meantime, he was still having a hell of a time trying to make them happy with his school work. When they would visit family, his parents would gush and talk about his younger siblings and gloss over anything Lector does. “You really are the dumb one, aren’t you?” His cousin said at a family gathering, “You seriously should put in more effort. You’re the eldest, yet you are a failure. My parents say that your parents are at their wits end with you.” “You are kind of dumb,” Lector’s brother joined in. “Leave Lector alone!” his sister stamped her foot, “he may not be good at a lot of things, but he's a good brother and is really good with clothes.” “Yeah, and that makes your dad think you're gay,” another cousin snickered. “But I'm not, though?” Lector was confused, “What does my interest in clothes have to do with whether or not I like girls?” “Wow. He is an idiot,” the first cousin said. “Let's go, Lector,” his sister blew raspberries at the other family members as she dragged Lector off. “Don’t listen to them, Lector. Just because you're not good at stuff doesn't make you dumb,” his sister encouraged. Lector shook his head, “It's okay. I've come to accept that I'll never be as smart as everyone around me. If that makes me the dumb one, I suppose it is what it is.” “Oh, Lector,” his sister sighed, “Well, you may be dumb, but you're still a good brother.” “Thanks, sis,” Lector pat her head. When he was old enough to be in ROTC, they discovered that on top of his eye for clothing, he was exceptional in rifle training, so much so that the colonel wanted to take him to the firing range. He got his parent’s permission and soon figured out that Lector did not miss. He could hit a target from two miles away. It was unprecedented. “The colonel said I’m good with a gun, and I passed fashion class!” Lector finally brought home A’s on his report card. “I mean,” his father began, “that’s all well and good, but those skills aren’t going to do you much good if the rest of your grades don’t come up.” His mother had nothing to say. It stung a little, but Lector remained a happy-go-lucky guy. He found it best not to let being the least intelligent person in his family bother him. Plus, it just made him cooler to his little sister. When he reached his senior year, he couldn’t pass the exams to get into the army, and he was rejected from fashion school after fashion school. They each saw his potential, but because of the rules, they couldn’t let him in. “That’s it, Lector,” his mother threw her hands up in exasperation. “Your mother and I will give you money to live, but there is nothing anyone can do for you,” Lector’s father said, basically kicking him out. “Wow, you’re so dumb. Mom and dad are sick of looking at you,” the brother sneered on his way out. His sister hugged him and cried, “Don’t go.” “Mom and dad said I have to,” Lector shrugged. He hugged her back then left. “You’re better off not being influenced by him,” their father said. “Lector is too nice to stand up for himself, and he can accept whatever you say. All he ever did was try to make you happy,” his sister yelled. “Don’t take that tone, young lady,” her mother warned. “Since he can’t and won’t do it for himself, I’ll hate the both of you for him,” she sniffled and stomped off, “he deserves a better family.” “She will get over it,” their father said. She didn’t. Lector’s sister resented them so much for the both of them that when she was old enough to move out, she moved as far away as she could and never spoke to her parents or her other brother again. On occasion, she’d call Lector, though, who did his best to get her to stop hating them. He did understand if she couldn’t, but she didn’t have to be mad for him. He was fine. After Lector was kicked out, he wandered around the city. He decided to have a seat on the steps outside the library. He sighed. “Well, no matter how I tried, I’m not really good at anything,” Lector sat there trying to wrap his head around his current situation, “I am pretty dumb.” “So… you’re just going to sit there being defeated?” A man around Lector’s age walked out of the library. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried everything,” Lector shrugged, “and all roads lead to the fact that I am, in fact, too dumb to do anything.” The man sat down next to him, “It’s impossible for someone to be bad at everything.” “Well, I have an eye for clothes, and I can shoot targets from two miles away, but I can’t seem to pass the tests to get anywhere,” Lector shrugged. “Can— can you repeat that?” The man said. “I have an eye for clothes?” “No, the other thing.” “I can shoot targets from two miles away without missing?” Lector asked. “Yes! Do you have a job?” The man asked. “No. My parents just gave me a bunch of money and kicked me out,” Lector sighed, “filling out job applications is pretty difficult, too.” “Well, would you like to work for me?” The man smiled. “You mean it?” “Sure! Granted, you will be a criminal,” the man nodded. “Well, I can’t seem to do anything else, and you seem like a trustworthy enough guy,” Lector nodded, “Okay!” The man held his hand out, “Spencer Hendrix, also known as Creator Chaos, but you can call me boss.” “Okay, boss. My name is Lector,” he shook Chaos’s hand. “I just want you to know that I don’t think you’re dumb, and none of the other guys will say that about you,” Chaos said, “if they do, they’ll regret crossing me.” “You don’t have to do that, boss. Just the fact that you think I’m good enough to work for you is enough,” Lector nodded. “If you say so, Lector, but at the very least, I won’t say that about you, ever,” Chaos declared. “That’s pretty kind of you, boss,” Lector smiled. “Watch it now,” Chaos warned, “Let’s go to your new job, and what will be your new home.” -- “That’s how I ended up working for the boss,” Lector smiled, eating some gummy worms, “my parents weren’t too thrilled, but they were happy they didn’t have to give me money anymore, at least. Kara is just happy I have friends who appreciate me as much as she does. She still won’t stop hating mom and dad, though.” He was pretty happy with his life with Chaos and the others. It was certainly better than being completely lost on the steps of the library. — “Charles, I don’t know about this outfit,” Chaos said, examining what Charles picked for him, “What exactly is Lector doing right now?” This was earlier when Lector was with Veronica and Lisa at the mall. “He is working on a different project right now,” Charles said, “Okay, so maybe the all-blue suit is a little loud….” “Yeah. Charles, you’ve been my friend for a long time, and this is something you are not good at,” Chaos shook his head. “Okay! Okay. I’m not as good as Lector, but we can figure this out.” “Why are you so set on dressing me up just to take the day off at the Veridian?” Chaos squinted his eyes at Charles. “Well, it’s best to dress to impress,” Charles nodded. “If you say so,” Chaos rolled his eyes. “So the all blue doesn’t work, but what if we did a three-quarter sleeved shirt in the same color with black leather pants,” Charles suggested. “I like the new color scheme, but I’m not wearing leather,” Chaos shook his head. “Corduroy?” Charles asked. “Absolutely not. Let’s just do slacks,” Chaos said. “I mean if you want to be boring.” “When have I ever been boring?” Chaos asked. “I mean, you aren’t most of the time,” Charles smirked. There is almost nothing boring about Creator Chaos. — After both of his parents died, Charles’s family was the third home Chaos was put into. Charles and his family had just moved back to town, and Chaos’s mother and Charles’s mom were pretty close, and she didn’t want Chaos to continue to be bounced around the system. “Thank you for letting me stay here,” a fourteen-year-old Chaos looked at Charles’s family. “It’s no problem at all, Spencer!” Charles’s mom hugged him, “We aren’t your parents, but we will do the best we can. Charles is pretty happy to have you, too!” “Yeah, Spencer! Let me show you to your new room!” Charles smiled. “Okay!” The two boys ran upstairs, and Charles showed Chaos his new room. They had a solid three years together as a family. Eventually, after school one day, Charles pulled Chaos aside. “What’s wrong, Charles?” Chaos asked. “Well, Spencer, I haven’t told anyone this, but,” Charles hesitated. Chaos put his hands on Charles’s shoulders, “Charles, we have been friends practically since we were born. There is nothing you can say that will make me upset with you… except maybe if you had malignant toe cancer and you’re going to die in a week.” Charles blinked, “That’s— oddly specific, Spencer.” “And it’s sad. So right off the bat, there isn’t anything you can tell me that’s worse than that,” Chaos nodded. “I don’t know. You might hate me after this,” Charles looked down. “Charles, if you don’t tell me what’s on your mind, I’m not giving you my dessert today after dinner,” Chaos crossed his arms. Charles held up his hands, “Okay! Okay, but you can’t hate me, okay?” Chaos waved a hand to encourage Charles to spit it out. “Spencer, I’m gay.” “Is that all?” Chaos raised his eyebrows. “Well, yeah!” Charles nodded. “Charles, I thought you were going to tell me you killed the neighbor’s dog or something,” Chaos sighed. “No! Spencer— you’re not mad?” “Why would I be mad? Charles, I’m not going to throw away almost eighteen years of friendship because you like guys,” Chaos hugged Charles, “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to tell me as your best friend.” “Thanks, Spencer,” Charles hugged him back. “Don’t tell your parents, though,” Spencer warned, “at least not until after you move out.” “Do you think it’ll be that bad?” Charles asked. “If there’s one thing I learned from foster care is that telling stuff like that to your parents is like playing Russian roulette with only one empty chamber,” Chaos sighed, “I was stuck there because my parents actually died. Others not so much.” “It can’t be that bad,” Charles laughed nervously. Chaos stared at Charles deadpan, “Yes, it can. You’re too good to be out on the street, Charles. I’m just a guy who has given up on doing anything good in this world, but you’ve at least got a chance.” “What’s that supposed to mean, Spence?” “Since nothing good comes out of me being a good person, I’ll be the worst person this city has ever seen,” Chaos gave a dark smile. Charles stared at him deadpan, “Well, you have won every science fair, and engineering challenge since before your parents died, and you have a solid back story.” Chaos shrugged, “Yeah. I was thinking I’d call myself Dr. Science!” “That’s even more plain and even dumber than just calling yourself ‘the Jet,’” Charles shook his head, “Don’t do that to yourself.” “Well, do you have any better ideas?” Chaos crossed his arms. “Well, you’re pretty good at making things from basically a bunch of nothing,” Charles thought. “Dr. God?” Chaos asked. “No! That makes you sound pretentious, and what’s with this doctor business? No— a good villain does shit just for the sake of creating chaos,” Charles stopped in his tracks, and the two boys stared at each other. They said simultaneously, “Creator Chaos.” “If you weren’t destined to do good, I’d let you help me build my organization,” Chaos clapped Charles on the back. “Why can’t I?” “Charles, are you capable of robbing banks, arson, and murder?” “No! Who would be?” Chaos sighed, “And this is why you can’t work with me.” “Spencer, you can’t even kill a spider without crying,” Charles grimaced, “What makes you think you can kill a person?” Chaos shuffled his feet, “I’ll— figure that out later. The point is, you can’t do this with me.” Charles rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say, boss.” Charles started walking home. Chaos trotted after him. “Don’t call me that, Charles! You’re not working for me!” “Sure, boss.” Chaos growled in frustration, then laughed, racing Charles home. It was a couple of weeks later when Charles’s parents found incriminating evidence of Charles’s homosexuality. “Charles, how could you do this to us?” His mom cried. “No son of mine is going to be a faggot, Charles, you hear me?” His father yelled and went to hit him, but Chaos caught his hand. “That’s not Charles’s. That’s mine,” Chaos looked at him with a cold conviction the thought of hitting him sent a chill through Charles’s father. “You can’t be serious, Spencer! You’ve brought home girlfriend after girlfriend!” Charles’s mom exclaimed. “One could say I was overcompensating for something,” Chaos shrugged. “Spencer, don’t—“ Charles began. “Shut up, Charles,” Chaos shook his head, “You shouldn’t defend me, a raging homosexual, even if I’m your best friend.” Charles thought, “Laying it on a little thick there, Spencer.” “Well, unfortunately, Spencer, we can’t allow you to continue to live here,” Charles’s mom sighed. Chaos headed up the stairs scratching his ear, “Yeah! I figured as much. I’ll get my shit and go. If Charles tries to say he’s gay, he’s lying because he doesn’t want me to be on the streets by myself. I’m a bad influence. Don’t kick him to the curb with me.” Chaos waved as he headed upstairs to grab his stuff. “I can’t believe Spencer is gay!” Charles’s mom whispered, “Fags are just popping up anywhere and everywhere. At least he has the wherewithal to not rub off on Charles,” his father nodded. Charles clenched his fists, “Spencer, you idiot. You always do this. Make yourself out to be the bad guy when you’ve done nothing wrong yourself.” “Well, I’m off to try to find some rich dirty old man to blow, so I don’t have to sleep under a bridge or something,” Spencer waved again, not looking at anyone on the way out. “I had no clue Spencer could be so vulgar. Good riddance,” Charles’s mom shook her head, “I’m going to go finish dinner.” Charles ran to his room and sat on his bed. “I don’t know what’s worse, Spencer’s piss poor acting or that my parents were dumb enough to believe any of that,” he flopped backward, “I can’t leave Spencer out there alone. We couldn’t be here for him before, but I can be there for him now.” Charles decided to pack a duffel bag, “Plus, my parents never raised a hand to me my whole life, but my father attempted to just now. Spencer is going to be pissed at me for following him, but he will get over it.” He jumped out the window, climbed down the side of the house, and trotted off after Chaos. “Charles, why in the hell aren’t you at home?” Charles found Chaos trying to break into a stand-alone ATM. “Because you are about to get yourself arrested for the way you’re messing with that ATM. Move,” Charles pushed him out of the way and got the ATM open, “Step behind that pole and break the camera. You didn’t let it see your face, right?” “Of course not, Charles. I’m not stupid,” Chaos broke the camera. Charles got the ATM open. “I’m going to save my questions about this later, Charles. For now, shove as much cash as you can into your bag, and I’ll do the same,” Chaos instructed. Once they emptied the ATM, Charles closed it back up, and they ran off. Chaos was trying to catch his breath, “Why— the hell— are you here?” “Someone has to kill spiders for you,” Charles shrugged. “Damn it, Charles,” Chaos put a hand to his face, “We don’t have anywhere to stay. I mean, we have enough cash for a hotel, but they can track this stuff in places like that.” They heard a frustrated sigh on the other side of the building they were hiding behind. “I can’t believe my pops left me this old-ass building in his will,” the man grimaced at it, “I understand that I was his favorite because, unlike my father, I was cool with pops being a gangster, but this is too much.” Chaos stepped around the building before Charles could grab him. “Can you repeat that?” Chaos asked him. The man pulled a gun, but Chaos stared at him, waiting for an answer. Charles was shaking behind the building, “Now he’s going to get himself killed. Damn it, Spencer.” “The fact that my pops was a gangster?” The man leered at Chaos, still holding him at gunpoint. “No, the thing before that.” “That I was cool with taking over the family business?” “No, before THAT!” “My pops left me this old, dilapidated ass building,” the man tilted his head to the side. “How much do you want for it since you don’t want it?” Chaos asked. “More than what you probably got, kid.” “You’re the same age as me or at least close to it,” Chaos raised his eyebrows, “Give me a price.” “$50 grand,” the guy put the gun back in his pocket and crossed his arms. “What if I told you I have $20k to hand over right now and will pay you the other $30k before the end of the year?” “I don’t know, man.” “I can sweeten the pot. If you take my offer and come work for me, we will have more money than we can know what to do with,” Chaos offered. “Ha! Me? Work for you?” “Well, what else do you got going on right now?” Chaos asked. “I’m a night stocker at a department store which is part of the reason I’m salty about this building situation,” the man sighed. “How much are you making?” “$8 an hour.” “In this city, that should be a crime. I’m offering you more than your annual gross income, plus making you richer,” Chaos smirked. The man thought for a moment. “Let me see the cash.” Chaos nodded and tossed over his duffel bag. “Holy shit. This is the real deal. How did you get this?” “My best friend and I robbed an ATM,” Chaos stated nonchalantly. The man laughed, “Well, something like this would make my pops proud.” He thought for a long moment staring at the duffel bag, “So you’re saying you’re going to pull more heists like this to get the rest of it.” “Oh, this is just the beginning of the wreckage we’re going to bring to this city,” Chaos nodded. “You’ve got a deal,” the man extended his hand, “Victor Weston.” “Sp—“ Chaos began. “His name is Creator Chaos, but you can call him boss,” Charles stepped in, shaking Victor’s hand. “Creator Chaos, huh?” Victor thought, shaking hands with Charles, “that makes things interesting. Okay, boss, you have lackey number two and a headquarters. What’s next?” Chaos wrapped his arms around Victor and Charles, “That we can figure out over pizza.” “Sure thing, boss,” Charles and Victor said at the same time. — “I still can’t figure out if I'm mad at your piss poor acting or that my parents bought that shit, boss,” Charles said, helping him pick out shoes. “Couldn’t have been that bad if they bought it,” Chaos shrugged, “Those shoes will do for this outfit.” “It was that bad, but this outfit isn’t,” Charles nodded, “You’re ready for your day off tomorrow.” “Finally!” Chaos rolled his eyes. “I'm going to bed, boss. Remember 8:30 pm.” “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”