[ WP ] A supervillain , having thought he was the hero all along , comes to grips with the truth .

The boy in the chair spits it out like fire on his tongue. 
 
 `` It's wrong,'' he says. 
 
 He's probably not old enough to have a license, and here he is speaking truth as if he is the law. But the boy has not seen a World War; not the first, or second, or even the third, as recent as it was. He's not seen the horrors that powers can cause, how another young man with a similar look to him caught his elementary school on fire with just his thoughts. His accidental, unregulated thoughts. How could he possibly know truth? 
 
 `` It's for the safety of all the people. If you can not control what you are, what you can cause, then you must be put away.'' It is n't the first thing he's said to the boy, but the boy stiffens as if it's the first sound he's heard in a long time. Like so many others, he tried to run, and he was caught. Battered and bruised, he's tied to a chair, awaiting officers of the law to take him to Terminus Special Prison. 
 
 `` But I did n't do anything...'' 
 
 `` Controlling people with your thoughts is n't doing anything?'' The man straightens and puffs out his chest, and the boy flinches at the symbolic'S' on his chest. 
 
 `` I did n't mean to do anything,'' the boy corrects. `` And now... now the SuperNova is putting me away in jail and...'' The boy's eyes fills with tears. He moves as if to curl into himself but stops as the bindings strain across his thin limbs. 
 
 `` What you can do is against the law,'' the man says. He wonders if this boy had a poster of him on his wall at home, if his parents bought him all of the action figures as he grew. 
 
 `` But you're the one who wrote the law,'' the boy says, oddly calm. He's not crying anymore. His dark eyes fall at his hero's feet and then crawl up his body, tearing him apart piece by spandex covered piece. 
 
 `` You're the one who made this society so that people could be safe,'' the boy said. `` And then when one of us is n't the perfect little spot of normalcy, you pack us away. What about protecting us, the ones of us who can do things? Who are super - like you are?'' 
 
 `` You are n't super like I am,'' the man says. 
 
 `` I could be, if you'd let me learn.'' The boy's eyes finally reaches the hero's face, and there's a cutting look there the SuperNova had n't expected to see. No begging, just a haughtiness in those who actually had the power to change things. 
 
 `` You're putting away innocent people... You're a villain,'' he says. 
 
 Cold water down his spine. He forgets to breathe, which is n't necessary but a habit he picked up to seem more human. The boy is staring at him expectantly, and all the SuperNova can think about are the hundreds that he saved, the hundreds that he failed to save, the hundreds that were put away before they could become supervillains with their powers. 
 
 Hundreds of thousands of people with a fate that would tug them this way and that, and he, the SuperNova, in the middle, expected to judge them accordingly. And how could he not save the school full of children and how could he fail to pick up the woman who threw herself from the building after years and years of living with an abusive husband and how could he fail to protect the rights of those with super powers when they turn to the darkness so easily? 
 
 How could he, how could he, how could he; it echoes in his head until he grinds his teeth together and slams his fist against the wall, now dented. 
 
 `` So you think I'm a villain, do you?'' the SuperNova asks. `` You think I'm a villain for putting away a few to save millions?'' 
 
 This boy, who probably had pajamas with the SuperNova on them, nods. 
 
 `` That's not freedom,'' he says. 
 
 A giddiness bubbles up in his stomach at the complete control he has over this boy, how anything he says will become law. Who will they listen to? A 15-year-old boy or the SuperNova, protector of Terminus? 
 
 `` I'm afraid that's not completely true,'' the hero says. `` Freedom is what I say it is. And you? You'll never make it to that prison.'' 
 
 He snaps his fingers and black suited men surge forward, the same that helped him track down the boy. The officers and the government know all about this. How could they not? He ca n't be everywhere at every time all across the country. 
 
 The men untie the boy, but he's too weak to fight. They tug him from his ratty street clothes and stuff him into a suit, a black suit with a gray marking across the chest. When they drop him to the floor, the SuperNova notes that it's too big on his body. Maybe in two years, he would've grown into it. 
 
 `` It seems that you're the villain now,'' the SuperNova says, staring down at the boy. The SuperNova tosses a mask at the boy's feet. `` Pick it up. Put it on. It'll complete your outfit.'' 
 
 The boy takes the mask between his gloved hands and, seeming to understand, glares up at what was his former hero. 
 
 `` You're going to attack a train station, boy,'' the SuperNova says with a smirk. `` And I'll be the one to take you down on camera.''
