Volume 1 issue 1

Thor engaged in combat with his nefarious brother Loki high above the city. Despite the chaos wrought by the trickster god, that brought upon by his brother, the so-called “hero,” was far worse, for the thunder god cast lightning down upon the innocents and smashed their homes with his prized Mjölnir. 

Are they to be grateful to their supposed hero, the destroyer of their city, the killer of their loved ones? Who will protect us from our so-called “protectors?”

…

“Why are you doing this? I’m a hero!” 

Überman slama an exhausted Thor, the god of thunder, into the brick wall of a Toronto alleyway. He collapses to one knee, slumping backwards, coming to rest his back against the wall. A fitting end. 

“How can you defeat me,” splutters the defeated god of thunder through shattered teeth. His matted locks of straw-gold hair obscures his tear-soaked cheeks. “You are just a man – I am a god!”

“What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal, yielding to increasingly greater men, and to the Superman. It is this lack of development that has led to your downfall, for you may be a god, but your people are stagnant and weak.” He frees the god of his mighty golden head, his legendary hammer lay discarded at his side.

“God is dead. We have killed him,” mumbled Überman, over the mangled corpse of Thor, his blade dripping with the blood of the god. He wipes the moisture from his furrowed brow, the rain soaking the face of the one known as “The Man” as he walks away from the scene of carnage. 

…

Who, indeed, shall protect us from our protectors? Those cavalier vigilantes with nary a care for those they save – glory-chasing, ‘roid-raging schoolyard bullies. It is he, The Man, who will protect us from the protectors, the anti-hero of our reality and not the hero of our dreams.

Thus spake the Überman.