Miss Raquel And Freya Von Doom -

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That was the first strike. The second came during a lesson on community helpers. Miss Raquel, in her brightly colored vest, asked the class to name people who keep us safe. "Police officers," said one child. "Firefighters," said another. Freya raised her hand. "Villains," she said. Silence. "Because without them," she continued, "heroes would just be… people with expensive hobbies." miss raquel and freya von doom

"I don’t know," Freya whispered. But she did know. The rules were a cage, and Miss Raquel was the zookeeper. Would you like more information on this topic

Freya considered this. She thought about the rules: sit still, raise your hand, color inside the lines, don’t question the inherent binary of good and evil. And then she thought about the one thing Miss Raquel never said out loud but enforced with religious fervor: Be predictable. Miss Raquel, in her brightly colored vest, asked

By fifth grade, Miss Raquel had transferred to the middle school—a coincidence Freya suspected was less about scheduling and more about self-preservation. But the damage, if it can be called that, was done. Freya von Doom—the "von" she added herself, because every good supervillain needs a superfluous aristocratic particle—had found her calling. She would not fight the system. She would exploit its loopholes. She would not break the rules. She would interpret them so literally that they collapsed under their own weight.

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