Stepmother
The Adventure of a Villainess
First Recorded Sighting Part 1
(It's totally canon as part of Stepmother's backstory, but it happens in another universe, before Stepmother actually comes to Nexus.)
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Every villain, super or otherwise, starts as an innocent little boy, girl, or whatever, or at least, that’s how the story goes. However, this is not that story. This is the story of a woman, one who many believe never was a child, or good, or even truly human for that matter. This is the story of the one known as Stepmother and how she came to preside in the conglomeration that is the Nexus.

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“Legend says that the Goddess will return one day, when she no longer finds interest in us, and when she does, she will destroy us and creation like the playthings we are.”

“Stop teaching him your nonsense old man,” came a pretty voice. A woman’s voice, and a scolding one at that. “The boy already has his head filled with enough tales of wonder and adventure to distract him from his chores thank you very much.” An equally pretty woman walked across a bustling tavern room, seemingly the owner of the voice. “Now run along home Jax. Your mother would be furious if she found out you were hanging around this place.” The woman insisted, patting the boy on the head.

She was a tall woman, taller than most men, and it gave her a commanding presence, causing features that originally made her seem pretty, to make her seem beautiful instead. Most found her appearance odd, her night-black curls and creamy skin seemed more fit for the silk and lace of a royal court then for the simple outfit of a tavern maid.

“You lack faith as usual, Morgana,” shrugged the old man, scratching his bald head. “You know it is why you are still stuck working in this dump.” He shook his head, as if judging her for her lowly position.

Morgana chuckled, shaking her head. “Says the mayor who spends all his time in this dump, getting drunk.”

The mayor shot her a glare, disgruntled at the mention of his position. “I am a perfectly fine mayor I’ll have you know,” he grumbled, slumping in his seat. “Why just yesterday I got a compliment from the lovely Mistress Streya.”

The tavern maid shook her head, a hint of disgust in her voice. “Asne Streya compliments everybody,” she replies with disdain.

The mayor harrumphs, finishing off his mug of ale. “Nevertheless, I am a fine mayor. This village is still standing and the farms are suffering no shortages, aren’t they?” He motions for Morgana to refill his mug as he speaks. “So stop complaining and earn your pay.”

Morgana shook her head, pouring his drink. “One of these days, a woman is goi-”

Morgana froze, surprised, as the mayor leaped up rigidly and knocked his mug over, ale spilling everywhere. “She has come!” he burst out in a trancelike state. “The goddess has come to end what she has created! We must be ready!” Morgana had already disappeared out of the inn before he had finished his mad rant.

* * *

A scream came from the top floor of Asne Streya’s otherwise quiet house. Asne blinked in surprise from the main room of her house. There isn’t anyone here but me, she thought, confused, so where did that scream come from? Suddenly she gasped, her eyes widening in realization. A burglar perhaps? Well this thief is going to get quite a shock. She grabbed a knife of the table, and began to make her way upstairs, gripping the blade tightly between her fingers.

The stairs creaked. She never noticed how loud they were before. She hoped the thief did not hear, at least not until it was too late.

Asne was at the top of the stairs by this point, and she suddenly realized she had no idea which room the thief was in. Neither of the doors seemed to be open. She frowned in confusion. He must have somehow climbed up the building and through a window. She sighed, and opened the door on her right, her bedroom. She could barely suppress the gasp that rose in her throat. In the darkness she could see two red eyes attached to a shadowy figure that she could not quite make out. Two eyes that were looking directly at her. She felt that gaze right down to her bones. She couldn’t make herself move. The only thing Asne found herself able to do was utter three words. “What are you?”

Asne Streya’s screams never escaped the walls of her home, and the night outside remained quiet and uninterrupted, yet at the same time, the inside of her home reverberated with the same phrase over and over again:

I HAVE COME