I’m still struggling to reconcile these
Welcome to my life. lol.
Allow me to propose a way to reconcile the innocent little boy with the deranged killer.
It’s called you always had a predilection to be guarded, suspicious, shy, sensitive and jealous anyway, and then terrible life experiences only exacerbated those innate traits.
It’s called you’re overlooked your whole life despite doing everything flawlessly.
It’s called your father pits you against your favorite person in the world, the one person who treats you with love and respect, so that even that person can’t be a haven for you, but instead is also a source of stress and resentment. In fact, your favorite person makes so many serious and damaging mistakes to the people and home that you love, because he seriously needs to grow up, that you are justifiably convinced he is not yet ready to be the leader you will never be permitted to become. But no one will listen to you, least of all your favorite person. No, instead, he has to get exiled when you emotionally need him the most, and some chick he just barely met changes his whole life perspective when nothing you said changed a damned thing. You were FUTILE.
It’s called institutionalized and internalized ethno-racism, where people are always suspicious of you for looking different and having unconventional cultural values. Thus when you find out you ARE in fact the son of the leader of beings that your beloved home and society deems the embodiment of all things dirty and evil, you are horrified but it all also makes awful sense to you. It’s called you believe you’re the monster, the bogeyman, the bad guy, the negative, because you were always taught that the thing you just found out you are is in fact the monster. The monster even your favorite person said he’d hunt down and slay when he grew up.
And oh by the way? Your ACTUAL family didn’t want you. They left you out in the snow to die. They attempted infanticide on you. In fact, you were an accidental pregnancy, an unwanted bastard. Even if you hadn’t been a genetic mutant who was too small to be taken seriously by a race of giants, you couldn’t have claimed your birthright with these people. Therefore everything you had known to be good and true is now a lie, and you CAN’T EVEN FALL BACK ON THE ALTERNATIVE, because you are obviously unwelcome there, too.
It’s called you go through an all-encompassing identity crisis for that reason. And even when you try to fix it, your ethical compass is so skewed that you do something very wrong, and the people you want to be happy with your actions cannot do that in good conscience. “No,” they say, yet again, and you succumb to total despair and attempt suicide. And fail.
It’s called you spent God knows how long floating in the empty abyss of outer space with nothing to do but ponder all these hurting, confusing things until you went insane.
It’s called them when you were finally found, it was by a race of militant, blood-sucking alien drones led by the most malevolent omnipotent force in the universe, Death’s lover, who tortured you and brainwashed you until you agreed with his every doctrine, that life is petty, and free will is a lie that only leads people to the place where you yourself were led: hurt and confused and never quite good enough.
It’s called you decided that the only way to gain notoriety was to be the servant of this malevolence, because that takes you out of the shadow of your favorite person, who no longer belongs to you anyway, because hey negative attention is better than no attention at all. If you become notorious by being the evil one, at least you become notorious.
It’s called you’ve gone batshit insane and you’re a fatalist who wrongly believes your story is already written.
And then Phil Coulson who is in every way ordinary, except the one way you can never be extraordinary, gets in your way.
So you kill him.