A Hero's Depression

[WP] You're a supervillain with a superhero as your arch-nemesis. When they come out to the world about their depression and mental health, others call them weak and there is backlash. You, however, are the first one to support them publicly.

*****

"Do you think any of us 'supers' are sane?" I barked at the reporter and the multitude of cameras they kept pointed at my face. "The heros have to save all of you constantly, and us villains have to plot more and more elaborate schemes. Its a heavy burden, and it weighs heavily on the soul."

"Doctor Doomsday, you have tried to kill WalkMan on at least 22 known occasions, and possibly several more that we are not aware of." A pretty young reporter shouted from the front of the press. "Why are you now showing your support for his struggles? Isn't this the best time for you to strike, while he's emotionally compromised?"

"Because this is beyond our petty sparing" I replied, gripping the podium with my cybernetic prosthetic arms. I eased up when I heard the slow groaning of wood under my hands. "This isn't about me vs WalkMan, a villain vs a hero. Its about Walknan vs his inner self. If I did strike now, it would not be my victory, it would be the depression that would win."

"Doctor Doomsday, you have been recorded on news cameras claiming you want, and I quote, "to see this world collapse into despair". Is this correct?" The same reporter responded.

I scoffed into the microphone bouquet that had been hastily attached to my podium for the press conference. "Context is everything, my dear..."

"Ashley", the woman identified herself.

"My dear Ashley. In that context, it was I that was causing the mayhem and destruction. It was I that was causing the strife and grief. What WalkMan is going through is not of my doing. It is a chemical imbalance in his cerebral cortex, causing overwhelming feelings of depression, hopelessness, and fatigue. And that is taking away my greatest prize of defeating him myself."

The reporters were furiously scribbling notes when a new voice shouted from the press gathered around me. "Doctor Doomsday, is it true that you have suffered from depression in the past?"

I looked over at the new speaker, snarling ever so slightly. "Whoever told you that is in violation of the HIPAA law, but yes. I have long battled my own demons of depression. I have several therapists and psychologists on my staff, and I speak with one at least twice weekly." I leaned towards the microphones menacingly. "Who told you of this?"

The reporter looked up from his tablet. "I found that from the police report from your last arrest. You listed an antidepressant and anti anxiety medication in your medical forms at booking."

"In any case", I said, trying to divert attention from that failed heist and subsequent jail stint. "Mental health is important for everyone. I strongly encourage everyone to open up about any issues you may be facing, and allow yourself to get the treatments to fix it."

A new reporter raised his hand and shouted "But Doctor, many people just can't afford to see a specialist like that. What are they to do?"

I stood up straighter. This was my opening. My time to reveal part one of my grand plan.

"You may know of my defeats from WalkMan and other heros, But you have not had the privilege to hear of my victories. I have amassed a considerable fortune. And today, I am proud to use that profit to open up the building behind me." I gestured to the office with a sweep of my robotic arm. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Doctor Doomsday Clinic for Emotional Wellness."

One of my murderbots stepped out from behind the decorative column it was hiding behind, and extended a wicked sword blade from its forearm. In one quick motion, it slashed the weapon across a large red ribbon that was stretched across the front door.

"There will never be a cost to use this service", I said, speaking loudly to be heard over the excited chatter. "We have a staff of two scheduling assistants, 6 licensed counselors, 2 psychologists, and an on-sight child care for your younglings while you have a therapy session."

The applause was confused at first, but grew steadily as the full weight of my words sunk in.

"Doctor Doomsday", the pretty young reported shouted over the excitement of her peers. "You have killed dozens of civilians, you have burned properties around the globe, you have stated you want to rule the world. why now provide free mental health support?"

I smiled. It took a considerable effort to not do my normal malicious grin, but a genuine warm smile. "I want to rule a productive, happy population. I want everyone to be at their best."

I took a deep breath and began my closing statement. "I promise that no harm will come to anyone that uses this free mental health center. Members of my Doomsday Squad will be on the premises to ensure the safety of the employees and patients alike. I am formally extending an invitation to WalkMan to use the facility at any time, from now until his dying day. Thank you."

With that, I turned and stormed down the platform stairs, my labcoat billowing behind me as I strode to my DoomMobile.

I had not been defeated by my own battle with depression. Most of my men had battled with depression at one point or another. Hell, a few of my sentient AI murderbots had encountered depression.

I wouldn't allow anything else to steal my victories from me. Even if that meant healing my foes at my own expense.

*****

THE END