Darkpages - Final Statement
In a voice so low it's inaudible, even with the microphone in front of his face, he whispers, "I cannot do this."

The reporters snap photos and shove more mikes in front of his face but this time he raises his head and says, in a clear strong voice:

"I can't do this any more." The crowd, once screaming with questions, falls silent. The odd flash and pop of a bulb going off.

"You people... you people are like infants. Crying and sucking and waiting to be cleaned up. You're fucking leeches. You are parasites."

He raises a hand and everyone, everyone steps back. The crowd parts and he walks to the waiting car.

"You're all going to die. You're going to die and I'm not going to be there to save you. None of us are. And even if we could save you, would we? Why would we? Because of our innate goodness? Because of your innate worth. Hell, most of you aren't worth saving. You're scum at best. Floating atop the skin of the world, just existing and giving nothing back. We're the worthy ones. We, the ones with the power and the courage to use it. You're just flies riding our backs, feeding on shit."

The crowd of journalists and fans and police and cameramen close in around the figure as he disappears inside the black sedan.

The window cracks open, enough to see the brim of his hat and the gray mask covering his eyes.

"You deserve everything that comes to you. But you don't deserve us."