Every great villain has a terrible backstory, and Creator Chaos is no different from the rest. As a baby, Chaos was observant. He spent quite a bit of time simply watching. He watched his parents yell at each other. He’d watch his father drink until he passed out after hurting his mom. He didn’t understand any of this, but he didn’t like it. However, he quickly learned that responding with tears didn’t do his mom any favors. He watched quite a few other things. It didn’t take him too long to figure out how to put blocks on the correct holes or put puzzles together. It seemed to make his mom happy enough, so he figured he would keep doing stuff like this. After all, it made him feel safe to see his mom smile. Eventually, they got him something that would make noise when you’d push things on it. The buttons made songs, and the keys made individual sounds. One day, the keys stuck on the toy and wouldn’t make sounds anymore because he couldn’t press them anymore. “It’s broken, Spencer. We can get a new one at Christmas, okay?” His mom promised. Spencer shook his head and pressed the buttons that did work. “Well, I’m glad you can still enjoy it even if it is broken,” his mom smiled. After that, Spencer spent a considerable amount of time staring at the toy keyboard. He would push the buttons that did work and tried to push the keys that didn’t work. They wouldn’t move. He was perplexed. Spencer noticed one day that his mom had a hard time getting a jar of his favorite applesauce open. It seemed to be stuck, too, until she opened it. He touched the apple sauce with his hands. It felt kind of— sticky. “Oh, Spencer. You got applesauce all over your hands,” his mom sighed. She wiped his hands with something soft like his blanket, but it felt wet. After his lunch, he went back to his keyboard. Perhaps it was sticky, but it wasn’t round like the jar. Eventually, he crawled over to his mom and yanked her pants leg. “What’s wrong, Spence?” She looked down at him. Spencer hadn’t figured out words yet, so he decided to make the action similar to when his mom wiped his hands with the tiny blanket. “You want a towel?” Spencer’s mom handed the towel to him. It was dry. He waved the towel at his mom and made the motions again. “You want a wet towel?” Spencer’s mom asked. Spencer nodded. His mom dampened what he now knew as “towel” and handed it to him. Spencer crawled back to the keyboard toy and tried wiping the keys. The towel didn’t seem to help much. “Awe, Spencer! Are you trying to clean your keyboard? You really like it don’t you,” his mom watched. He was frustrated that the “towel” didn’t help “clean” the keyboard because the keys were still stuck. He sat down and stared at it again. Not only did he have to find a new way to unstick the keys, but he was also confused as to whether “blanket” was “towel” or was “towel” a “blanket.” It kept him awake that night. A few weeks later, he had to stay with his “papa” because his mom got hurt pretty bad by his dad. Somehow he convinced the adults to let him take his keyboard to “papa”’s house. “You sure do like that keyboard, don’t you, Spencer,” his papa laughed as he watched Spencer press the buttons that did work while still considering the keys that didn’t work. “Do you want to come to watch while papa does some work in his shop?” Spencer just stared at him. Whether he agreed or disagreed, he knew he was going to this shop either way. He learned very quickly that his papa was good at fixing things. He watched his papa work intently. A lot of the stuff was too complex for him to follow, but then he saw it. His papa used a tool to pull something that looked like Spencer’s keys out of an object, clean it, and then reattach it. Maybe that will work. He reached out for the tool, but his papa said, “No, this is dangerous for a baby, but I can get you your own tools, Spence.” Papa bought Spencer tools that were age-appropriate for a person of his size. However, Spencer figured out very quickly that they were not going to get the keys off his toy. Moreover, he found a “pencil” the other day that was small like papa’s tools, and he had a hard time doing anything interesting with it before mom took it away. Spencer figured that he would just copy papa’s motions with his own tools. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Spencer,” his papa was astonished. Spencer simply smiled back at his papa. One day, he lucked out because papa dropped his tool under a table that he couldn’t get down under to reach. “Well, at least it fell far back enough that you can’t grab it. I’ll get the neighbor kid to get it when he gets back from school tomorrow,” Spencer’s papa shook his head and sighed. The next day, Spencer was staring at his toys in the kitchen while papa worked in his shop. Spencer then began to solve the problem of getting the tool. He could at least get papa to give him a wet blanket towel. Spencer used his toy screwdriver to pull papa’s screwdriver from under the table. He then crawled back to his keyboard and stood himself up. Spencer was excited to see that the tool fit between the keys. He followed his papa’s motions and was able to pry the key off. It was pretty yucky. Spencer wiped off the key and the yucky where the key fits into the keyboard. He saw that when papa forgot to do this, he’d have to take the key off his keyboard and clean it again. Once it was sufficiently clean, Spencer considered the keyboard hole and the key. He started trying to put it back. It took him several tries, but he got it back in, and it started moving again to make a sound. Spencer cried out in joy. Finally, it was fixed. Papa came in to see what was going on. “Spencer! You can’t play with that tool! It’s dangerous!” Before papa could grab the tool, Spencer started pressing the key he had just fixed. He held up his hand for papa to wait. His papa was now curious. Papa watched as Spencer repeated what he had just done for the following key. “Spencer,” his papa said slowly, “you’re way too smart for your own good.” Papa let Spencer finish his work, and he gave papa his tool back. “So you spent all this time trying to figure out how to fix your toy, huh?” Papa picked Spencer up, “Well, we both worked hard today. Let’s have a snack, Spence!” The next day, his mom came to pick him up. He showed her the keyboard was fixed. “Awe! Did papa fix your keyboard for you?” Spencer’s mom gushed. “No, he fixed it himself, Regina,” papa beamed. “Dad, Spencer is a baby,” Regina shook her head, “he can’t do it by himself.” “Regina, I swear. He did it.” Spencer’s mom rolled his eyes, “Sure!” “I’m telling you—“ “Pa,” Spencer began. They both stopped to stare at him. “Pa-pa,” he said, then he put a finger to his lips and said, “Ssh….” Spencer’s papa roared with laughter, “You are too smart for your own good, kid!” “Awe! I’ve been trying to get him to say mama for months,” Spencer’s mom pouted. “Well, obviously Spencer wants to keep his knack for fixing things like his papa a secret,” Spencer’s papa shook his head, “I guess he will show you soon enough.” “Sure, Dad,” Spencer’s mom grimaced before she kissed her dad goodbye. “Love you, pumpkin. And please, if you need to, leave that ass and come home,” Spencer’s papa looked concerned. “You know I can’t do that, dad,” Spencer’s mom sighed, “I’m heading back.” Spencer’s papa waved then muttered, “Hopefully, he doesn’t kill her— or Spencer for that matter.” After that, Spencer often asked for papa. Sometimes mom would take him there. As he grew, papa showed Spencer how to fix more things. When Spencer was a little older, papa taught him about glue. When Spencer tried to glue his torn blanket, papa explained that it was best to mend it. Papa got Spencer an age-appropriate “sewing kit” so Spencer could follow the motions of threading needles and mending with big yarn and a big toy needle. Spencer couldn’t practice this particular skill at home. His dad was close to beating him for being too smart. The sewing pushed him over the edge. Spencer’s mom took the brunt of that beating as usual. Eventually, Spencer was old enough to go to school. By that time, though, he was reading his bedtime stories to his mom and taking things apart, and putting them back together. His mom got mad about his LeapFrog tablet until he put it back together. It wasn’t until after papa passed away did his mom start to believe that maybe Spencer did, in fact, fix his keyboard. Spencer didn’t talk much, though. He would much rather observe. His teacher thought he was behind until he started reading to a little girl. She was crying because some of the boys were being rude to her. Spencer figured if reading made his mom feel better, it might work for her. “Mrs. Hendrix,” the teacher began, “Did you know Spencer could read already?” “Oh yeah! He reads his bedtime stories to me now,” his mom nodded. “I think he might do better if we bumped him up a grade,” the teacher suggested. Spencer and his mom simultaneously said, “No!” His intelligence already made his dad angry. Skipping ahead would just make him furious. The concession was that Spencer could participate in after-school programs that were STEM-based. Spencer learned a lot of things at school, even though he was way ahead of his peers intellectually. Unfortunately, one of those things was that no good deed goes unpunished. He would get into fights with the other boys, usually because they picked on or hit a girl. Spencer felt like he already gets enough of that at home, and at least these kids were his own size. He would get suspended, though, after being accused of having cooties or being a girl himself. Spencer’s mom explained that while what he was doing was sweet, he couldn’t keep getting in trouble. When Spencer’s dad started encouraging that behavior, though, Spencer thought long and hard about his reactions. He did not want to be like his father. The only solution though that boys his age would understand is fighting, so he fought, would be accused of something or other, then get suspended. Eventually, Spencer learned the art of intimidation. It was something the old man in the next house over taught him one day while Spencer was helping him fix his car. The old man noted that Spencer might be a little too good at it. The old man shrugged. At least it would get him suspended less often. At age seven, Spencer had it with his father’s behavior and constant beating on his mom. He figured he was pretty good at intimidating the boys at school. His father might back off too… It didn’t work. “Think you’re a tough guy now, huh, boy?” Spencer’s father growled when Spencer put himself between his mother and father. “I’m not going to let you hit her anymore,” Spencer declared. “So, what? You gonna fight me? Is that it?” Spencer’s father glared down at him. Spencer met him with an equally sinister glare. “If I have to,” Spencer squinted his eyes. “Okay, Spencer, that’s enough,” his mom said nervously. “You stay out of this,” father yelled at her, “if he wants to step to me like a man, then this is between men.” “He’s just a child!” Spencer’s mom yelled. Spencer held up his hand and shook his head, “It’s okay, mom. Sometimes you have to face a bully, even if he is five times your age and three times your height.” “There’s that egg head shit again,” Spencer’s dad growled. “Better to be smart than an asshole,” Spencer crossed his arms, repeating words his papa always used to say. “I am your father, you little shit,” Spencer’s dad closed the distance between them. He slapped Spencer. It stung, but Spencer never stopped glaring at his father. When his mom tried to intervene, his father lunged at her too, but Spencer swung, meaning to catch his father in the stomach, but he was short, so it became a nut shot. Spencer’s father crumpled. “You— little— asshole,” Spencer’s father managed. “Doesn’t feel good, does it,” Spencer glared down at him. He grabbed his big c-pitched boom whacker and started slugging his father with it. By the time he was done, it was dented and would never make an in-tune C sound ever again. Before he could grab his D-pitched one, his father grabbed him by the leg and pulled him to the ground. He sat on Spencer and started slugging him. “Stop it, Dave! He’s just a kid! You’ll kill him!” “Like he just tried to kill me with his gay ass music toy?” “Obviously, it didn’t work, or you wouldn’t be taking your little dick syndrome out on someone smaller than you,” Spencer managed through a busted lip. This was some more commentary from papa. “Spencer! Where did you learn such— never mind. Dave, you get off of him right now!” Spencer’s mom shoved his father off Spencer, grabbed him, and ran. Spencer’s mom huffed and puffed as she ran down the street. “You’re a lot braver and smarter than me and your father, Spencer, but don’t do some shit like that again,” she finally put him down two blocks away, blotting his bloody nose with her apron. “Why do you stay with him? We could leave together right now,” Spencer hissed as she blotted his lip, “We could go up to papa’s deer stand. We would only live off of berries and stuff because I don’t think either one of us could kill a deer, but it’s doable….” “No, Spencer,” his mom sighed. “Why not, mom? He’s going to keep hitting you, and I can’t win in a fight against him,” Spencer held her hands. “I know. It’s tough, and your father is— your father, but even if we left Spence, neither one of us could get a job. You’re seven, and I don’t have a high school diploma or any skills people would want to hire me for,” Spencer’s mom shook her head, “son, can you promise me something?” Spencer nodded. “Promise me that someday, you’ll find someone smart as you and independent enough to take care of themselves. Don’t be with a coward like me, okay?” “Mom, you’re not a coward. You’re my mom, and it’s not your fault dad is a low-life piece of shit,” Spencer nodded. “Maybe I let you spend a little too much time with your papa and old man Jameson next door,” Spencer’s mom frowned but pat him on the head, “you’re a good boy, Spencer, and don’t ever forget mama will always love you.” Spencer hugged his mom, “I love you, too, mom.” That was the last time Spencer saw his mother. After school that day, CPS picked him up. It turns out that Spencer’s father finally snapped and snapped his mom’s neck. Spencer’s father went to prison, and with no other family to speak for him, Spencer went into the system. He thought he was doing a good thing, standing up for his mom, but it didn’t help her. It only got her killed. After that, Spencer ended up with a foster family. In the eyes of his foster parents, his older brother and their biological child could do no wrong. He had a piss poor attitude, and his grades were terrible. When his grades started to rise because he stole Spencer’s homework, he got high praise. Eventually, the teacher confronted the parents because they thought their kid was cheating on his homework. After all, his test scores were terrible. Somehow this kid convinced his parents that Spencer bullied him into taking his homework. When they returned Spencer to CPS, their kid’s grades dropped again, and it was someone else’s fault he was a colossal jerk. Spencer didn’t stand up for himself in these situations, not at first anyway. He was devastated for a long time. He didn’t eat or talk much. He just spent his time taking things apart, putting them back together, and going to his enrichment courses in STEM as his time in the system allowed. He kept winning competitions, but winning wasn’t as fun without his mom there cheering him on. His caseworker did the best she could to encourage, but it wasn’t the same. “Spencer, you’ve had a rough go of it, but you could really do good in the world,” his caseworker nodded in encouragement, “Much like— a scientist or an engineer. You’re good at building stuff, Spencer.” Spencer just nodded. He wanted to believe her, but nothing good ever came out of him doing good. The older kids whom he was beating at these competitions held him with contempt, and some of their parents degraded them because they got beaten by a little kid. Spencer liked winning too much, though, and if he had to win at something, this would be it. His latest competition, he came back to show his caseworker how he did, but she wasn’t there. The fact that she couldn’t seem to fit Spencer into a family after years had her removed from his case. “She didn’t do anything wrong,” Spencer began, “it’s not her fault these families just want me for the money they get from taking me in and the money I’m winning from these competitions.” “That’s another thing, Spencer,” the new caseworker stated, “we cannot take you to these competitions anymore. She almost lost her job because she was signing permission slips for you.” “Are you fucking kidding me?” Spencer yelled. “Language,” the caseworker warned. Spencer simply stomped off. It wasn’t until Charles’s family moved into town again did Spencer have a reprieve. They were a good family, and he always got along with Charles when his father let his mom go there. By that time, though, the kid from his first family got himself lost during a trip to a science lab. The news said he walked into a restricted area where they were testing some kind of gas. After the kid recovered, he had super speed and other powers. That kid was from his first family that was stealing his homework. Even as an older kid he did simple minded things, like making his superhero name “the Jet.” This sealed Spencer’s philosophy… Nothing good comes from doing good.