Final form

Daxin stood atop his pedestal, looking down over the pathetic heroes who had come before him with the intent of stopping him from achieving his dreams. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. He had always fancied becoming a supervillain - fancied himself as being the one who would actually succeed in conquering the world - and everything was coming together better than he could have ever dreamed. People in the streets cowering in fear of him, or being destroyed in an instant for daring to try and stand against his will. And now a rag-tag band of losers had gathered together, thinking that the power of friendship and determination would be enough to overcome him. How adorably perfect.

They were giving some speech to him about how his plan was insane, and how he would never succeed, and how even if they were to fail this day, others would rise from the ashes and pursue him until the day he faltered and fell from his mighty tower. Or something along those lines. He wasn't really paying attention. He was planning in his head how he was going to celebrate their inevitable demise.

His powers had arrived unexpectedly, but were extremely welcome. The power to control air. How utterly impeccable. The one thing that was always in abundance, that no one could take away from him without having to take it away from themselves in the process. The one thing that no one could go without. As soon as it arrived, he had to make sure that he could use it to rip the wind out of a person's lungs, to suffocate them from the inside out, and let them crumple to the ground and die, surrounded by what they could not have. His parents had been his first victims. He had never looked back.

The 'heroes' were finishing up their speech, thank god. He only noticed because they were finally drawing their weapons. Just before the leader could finish talking, he was dropping to his knees, gasping for air. Daxin knew the others would be on him only a moment later, but the satisfaction of not letting them finish after having gotten so far was just too wonderful. He couldn't help himself.

He took the punch to the gut hard, but the smile never left his face. He flew through the air, appearing to tumble wildly when really he was just putting on a show. It wasn't any fun if he just eliminated them immediately, after all. He had to make an example of them. He had to surreptitiously stomp them into the ground.

They had at least spent some time training and getting themselves practiced at working in sync. He had to give them that. Whenever he stole the wind from one, another was on his back. He let them smash away at him, let the cuts and the bruises and the blood cover him. He even let them corner him against a wall, get surrounded, make it look like he was going to lose.

The leader lifted up his sword and pointed it directly at Daxin's throat. "Any last words?" he asked coldly. Daxin had to stifle a laugh.

The wind surrounding them all was gone. For a moment they stood, swaying on their legs, but it was only a matter of seconds before they were clutching at their own throats. Daxin lifted himself into the air on a powerful gust of wind directly beneath his own feet, a tornado forming in the palm of his hand, and spat blood on the leader's head. "You didn't think this was my final form, did you?" he asked, letting the madness soak into his voice.

The heroes were sent flying, crashing into each other in mid air before piling against a concrete wall as Daxin listened to their bones snap. He burst out laughing, joyful at just how maniacal he sounded. "Oh god," he gasped between breaths. "It's so cliche! But it just feels so right."