[ WP ] You live in a world of heroes and villains , your job is to contact heroes for hospital visits to sick children , this last request is a challenge , the kid wants to meet their favourite villain ...

The newspapers had several names for the individual perched on the bed sheets of little Thomas Gray; The Deceiver, Spirit Stealer, Doctor Death. I would come to know him as just Bill, the old withdrawn white haired man who hobbled around hospitals and hospices on a crooked wooden staff. He had made me uncomfortable, of course. But so did all the members of the superhuman community. Little Thomas Gray didn ’ t seem to mind though. None of the children I would see him speak to at the hospice did. They merely sat and listened to him, seemly at ease with the world for the first time in months. 
 
 The tabloids would crucify me if they knew what I was doing, I thought. Once a month they would spread his stern face and soulless eyes across their front covers, decrying him for raising the dead and calling for ‘ heroes ’ like Archangel and Captain Cain to string him up. But I had seen how he had helped the terminally ill Misses Doris in the Milton Ward last week or the perpetually screaming Mister Aldrich in Littlewhite Hospital last Summer and so I had acquiesced to Little Thomas ’ unexpected request. 
 
 He was only with Little Thomas for five minutes but when he left, Thomas was asleep. Dead to the world. At peace. How did he do that, I mused as I sipped on my “ Super Extra Sweet Coffee ” in its polystyrene cup from behind the one way glass looking into the sickroom. The nun had told me he ’ d been wailing in pain and crying about his diagnosis since Saturday. 
 Bill was not known for his conviviality but I took my chance as he pulled closed Thomas ’ door. 
 
 “ What did you say to him? ” I asked, unable to look at his face for much longer than a second before abjectly staring into my coffee. It might have been the first thing I ’ d actually said to him. 
 
 “ Lies ” he said, shortly. 
 A quizzical expression on my face must have given my confusion away because he began speaking again. 
 
 “ I told him it would be okay and that I ’ d bring him back once he passed. His family won ’ t have to suffer any longer ”, he said and paused. “ It won ’ t be okay. I won ’ t bring him back and his family will have an empty chair at their dinner table tonight. ” 
 
 I was shocked. “ Why won ’ t you? ” I said trembling with both fear and anger. 
 
 He just stared at me, black soulless eyes seeming to burrow into mine. He didn ’ t even seem phased by my question. “ I can ’ t. ” 
 
 “ Can ’ t, or wont? ” I spat. 
 
 “ Can ’ t. I ’ ve never had any powers. I ’ ve never brought anyone back to life. I ’ m no pantomime villain. If the papers tell people I have the power to defeat death and can stop little boy being scared because he believes in me, then so be it ”. He motioned with his crooked walking stick to go past me but I put my foot out. 
 
 “ That ’ s not right. You should tell them the truth, if not the papers then at least people like Thomas. ” 
 
 “ Would you rather be happy or know the truth? Thomas is now happy because he doesn ’ t know the truth, that there is nothing after death. And if I have to be a villain to do that, then so be it. Nobody likes the truth. Now, where is the next person on our list? ” he said and brushed past me. 
 
 I followed him towards the next room in the hospice and took a sip of my drink. 
 
 My coffee tasted more bitter than it had 5 minutes earlier.
