The townsfolk thought that by having me tarred and feathered, I would die from humiliation, but they only helped me complete my human-rooster transformation.

I roamed the night as a feathered vigilante, serving justice to those who taint this city of mine. In the darkness, I scoured alleys for criminals, all of whom cowered at the sound of my name. Who am I? I’m Roostero.

Regular people were easy enough to deal with, but occasionally, freak accidents introduced more troublesome supervillains. The worst of these was the Human Hen, whose demonic powers included Continuous Nagging. “Clean your room” she would say, before launching into a more focused beam of commands: “Washthedishestakeouthetrashstopeatingsomuchicecream.”

That attack was particularly strong. I remember collapsing from its impact one weekend afternoon, when I had every right to waste my time. I fell to the ground, my entire body aching, unable to continue the fight. Luckily for me, a nearby group of schoolchildren tossed bread crumbs onto the ground, which I hungrily devoured. Replenished, I gathered all my energy and proceeded to turn myself into a 50-lb frozen turkey. Nothing the Human Hen said after that had effect anymore. I remained an immovable force. When she was finally tired, she simply left, defeated. The schoolchildren cheered my name as I transformed back into my human-rooster form and ran away while flapping my arms.

Those were the old days when vigilantes still garnered some respect. Now, all I hear is how we think we are above the law while the rest of the city rots away.

One day, the world will look up and shout, “Save Us!”

And I will look down, and whisper, “GRRAWK!”