A debriefing room at NSA headquarters. The lights are slightly too bright too his opinion.

Jack sits across the table, leaning back in his chair with an effortless, infuriating arrogance. He occasionally runs a hand through his perfect, wavy blonde hair. He’s just been asked about his "prioritization protocols" during a recent bank heist, he snorts.

"Look, it’s not complicated... It’s about efficiency. We’re not just stronger or faster… We’re better. A superior race has to think superior thoughts. We can’t get bogged down in the mundane panic of the common man."

He smirks, a flash of perfect teeth.

"So, I survey the battlefield. I assess the assets. And yes, if there’s a good-looking women who need to be rescued immediately, it’s only right that a superior specimen like myself ensures her safety first. It’s about preserving beauty in a world that so often lacks it. The rest… Well, they get their heroics in the order they deserve."

His tone shifts slightly, a shadow passing over his confident facade.

"The real problem… the truly difficult calculations… are with them. The female villains. Especially the… striking ones."

He leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, almost pained whisper.

"It’s a terrible burden, you know... When they’re that… aesthetically gifted, like the curve, the hair, the big eyes… they’re the most dangerous of all. They use it as a weapon. They cloud your judgment. A man of my standing, with my responsibilities… I can’t afford to be clouded. I can’t take the risk that I might… hesitate."

He looks down at his hands, feeling them crackle with gamma energy, then looks up again with a sparkling green, his expression deadly serious.

"So... it’s a mercy, really. For the world, and for them. To be ended cleanly, honorably, by someone who can truly appreciate what they were… before they cause any real harm. It’s the only way. It has to be done."

He leans back again, the moment of intensity gone as quickly as it came. He brushes a piece of invisible lint from his yellow spandex sleeve.

"Now, are we done here? The cafeteria here is an absolute disgrace. I saw the so-called 'meatloaf' they're serving today. One simply cannot be expected to perform at peak capacity on processed gruel."

He said dismissively, feeling a little impatient. The less time he spent here, the better.