The Zorro Thing

You.
You're the bigshot.
The man of the house.
You do what needs to be done, and wipe that smirk off your face, junior.
Who are you? The Hero. The Protagonist.
And it is you who, with manly agency,
kills bad guys,
and kicks butt,
and carves his mark on the wall,
and settles old scores,
and shot first,
and has the plan he doesn't share,
and knows that dame will be yours by the end of Act IV,
and ignores the stupid rules and the big explosions,
and holsters his gun with a flourish
And then the Bad Guy, some nancy, sneers, "You've been watching too many action movies, Mr. Jones", but you coolly reply: "No. You just haven't watched enough," and drop out the window, 5 stories up, landing on your stead, for a clean getaway towards the horizon and the closing credits.

Do you hear what I'm saying? When you jump off a building and land on a horse, you'll be unhurt, and the lead will snap but you won't care, and if you fall exceptionally far, or with blade drawn, or while carying a baby, you might find your ride gets an even better boost.

But you already knew that. You knew that all along.