[ WP ] Tell me the story of a publicly hated hero fighting a much beloved villian

I've been called many things throughout my career and recently they have n't been too flattering. Murderer, monster, has-been, crackpot. But you'll probably know me as the Protean. Yes, that Protean. `` First of the superheroes, master of the bio-adaptive battlesuit'' etc, etc. But I'm getting off topic. 
 
 Now, ask those same people who they think of when you say `` superhero'', and nine times out of ten they'll probably say Advent. And who could blame them? Nice enough guy. A little older, true, but very likeable. Handy, if slightly unreliable telekinetic abilities. Good with kids and the elderly. Always saving the day, and when the real battles happen, he keeps the collateral damage to a minimum. Just the type of hero the people want. Only I know the truth. Only I know that the heroics are a facade. That his charmingly unreliable telekinesis is a ruse and that his power is terrifyingly boundless. I know his real name. Flaw. You see, I was there. 
 
 I was there back during the war when we recieved word that the Nazis had recruited a powerful psychic to their cause. It was during D-Day when I first saw him in person. He was attacking transports full of green US and British recruits for sport. What I remember the most are the screams. Cliche, I know, but you do n't know the scream of a man with a melting brain. The howls of men being telepathically forced to rip into each other like animals. We clashed that day and then throughout the war, equals, depsite our differing abilities. And finally, one cold night in the Ardennes, it happened. He slipped. And in that moment, with the rage for all my allies lost in that war fueling me, I ran him through with my wrist blade. I though that was the end of it. That I had won. That I had buried him. 
 
 But I was wrong. 
 
 I did n't account for his regenerative abilities. The Flaw was always crafty, I'll at least allow him that. He laid low, healed the literal hole in his chest, and decided that patience was the key towards ending my reign of heroism. He ushered in a new era of crime from behind the scenes, providing funding to street level crime and training a new generation of villains. You know some of them, I'm sure. Basilisk, Ersatz. Both his proteges. And when we were exhausted and broken from the criminal onslaught, he struck. But not in the open, like during the war. In silent, in the night. One by one, he killed off the members of the old guard. I remember Sub Zero's death being paticularly gruesome upon discovery. But what made the wounds sting even more was the evidence implicating me. Nothing concrete enough to warrant an arrest, but enough to seed the rumors about me losing my grip on reality. On my supposed PTSD clouding my judgement and making me violently turn on my former allies and how the police were powerless to stop me. And into this vaccum, with me stretched thin between singlehandedly keeping crime in check while the public was whipped into a frenzy against me, he stepped. And by becoming the hero that the public wanted, by making them cast me aside, he won. He finally beat me. And now the public thinks I'm a potential threat and had no idea of the actual threat Advent is. I know his endgame. I already know he's contacted Captain Kaiju and Technomonger from the old days, and that he's drawn Daylighter, now going by Archfiend, to his side. I've even seen the horrors he's done to Sub Zero's stolen remains, and the resulting monstrosity known as Wendigo. In short, these people are weeks, maybe days away from a new era of darkness and oppression the world has ever seen. And yet they do n't have a clue. 
 
 I guess you can call me one more thing. 
 
 Afraid.
