His name was Bartram. Bartram Burk. BB. It's what his mom used to call him, BB. Well, Bartram Burk. He wasn't a cruel child. He wasn't a mean child but he was an angry child. Not towards anyone in particular. It started when he was younger. As most of this shit does, it starts when you're younger, when you're defenseless, when you can't stop it. But, not that Bartram pointed any fingers. The kids, they were cruel to him. You know, mean to him. He never quite fit in because of the way that he looked and the way that he acted. They would push him, they would call him names, steal things from him. And despite his anger, he always tried. He would talk about the things that they liked, he would smile at them, he would give them gifts, sometimes. He would let them make fun of him. Because they would laugh. He knew they were laughing at him but he imagined that they were all laughing. Anyway. Bartram didn't have many friends, clearly. Again, because of the way he looked and the way he was. And because of this, his anger grew. Now, at home, his mother was very very kind to him. His mother was very good to him. She would always come to him, ya know. "BB, how are you? How was school? Did you make any friends?" You know, how was this, how was that, do you need anything. A very very loving mother and he loved her dearly. She would teach him right from wrong, would tell him, "Bartram, you're going to make it in this world. You're gonna be something, you're going to go places, there is nothing that you cannot do. Nothing. And despite, everything. Bartram believed her. There is nothing that he can't do. Nothing. It's empowering to think about something like that. It's amazing to have someone say that to you. And in his life, he tried. He tried many things. He would volunteer here, he would pick up a job, helping the elderly, taking out trash. Basically, things to help out. After all, that's what good people do. That's how you make it in the world. Apart from being a superhero, you know like all the caped fuckers out there. That's what a normal man can do and that's what Bartram was. He was just a normal man, he was just a guy. He couldn't help it. And still, he was teased. Disrespected. He was hated in a lot of ways. Bartram would try to make friends with a co-worker, even a passer-by. Say a friendly word and get a grimace, a look of disgust and so, his anger grew. The day his mother died, Bartram wept. It was that everything that was good and kind in his life was gone. As if the warmth had left. Though her words, her words were always there. "There is nothing that you can't do." Now, Bartram tried. Continued. Worked hard. Was kind to others, caring, giving. But again they grimaced and they took and they pushed and they played games with him. And one day, while he was working as a janitor at one particularly nasty scientific facility. He forgets the name, sometimes. They were a group of particularly nasty people. And the core of them being a beautiful woman, who Bartram. Well, he admired. They locked him in a room and unbenounced to them, a switch was flipped and the room filled with gas and Bartram, he pounded on the walls and he screamed and he cried. And instead of helping him, as he would have, had he been on the other side of the room. He would be on the other side of the room, watching another man beg to be let out. Instead of doing the right thing like he would have done, they ran and they screamed and they hit a siren and the noise was loud and it grew louder and a lot of footsteps and Bartram just kept pounding and pounding on the door until the door started to give away under his fists. And his mother's voice was coming back to him, "THERE IS NOTHING THAT YOU CAN'T DO." And Bartram pounded harder and harder and harder and the people screamed louder and louder and the door flew off of it's hinges and everyone screamed the loudest. And Bartram felt for the first time in his life that he wasn't being laughed at. And the fists just kept pounding and pounding and the screams kept going and getting louder and louder until they were all gone. And still, his anger grew. As he stared down at his hands, soaked in red and he stared at the mangled bags of people that lay before him. He said to himself, "There is NOTHING I can't do. But if I can't be a good man and I don't get the love that I deserve then I will bring as much pain as possible to everyone that I can." ...and that's exactly what he did. Until, he was vested by a man in a cape and brought to a cell. Where he was called a monster. They ignore all the good that they did, they forget how much he tried and they dismiss him as a fucking monster. As a beast, as an animal. They say, "Maybe he can be reformed." Reformed into what?! A man in a cape..? A man who lies. Who pretends that he's God. No. No. Bartram Burk is a bad man. But he is the only real man that this world has. And they think that they can stop him. With all the caped crusaders and all their police and all their guns and their gas and their bombs. But they forget the words that ring in my head.
"There is nothing you can't do."
Story by Evan Jennings
