[ WP ] Every aspiring superhero must become a sidekick for a few years before being granted full time hero status . You are the strongest superhero in your age group , but believe you have been assigned to the weakest hero . You learn a lot more than you originally thought you would .

I felt as if I was somehow being punished. For my hero apprenticeship I was assigned to one of the least exciting and meticulous heroes from the previous generation: the Trapper. 
 
 `` Ugh, how long is this old buffoon going to take on setting this trap, eh? We've been here configuring this pulley-leveraged netting apparatus going on 2 hours now'', I would think to myself, as I passed him the various tools he needed. He usually sang a gentle tune to himself in-between orders given to me, while I would sit in an agitated state, contemplating on how I should be flying through town engaging in significant and exciting hand-to-hand combat sequences. I envisioned all the fantastical ways we could be catching criminals instead of these mundane elaborate traps. And even after we had a criminal under arrest, the Trapper felt the need to lecture the bloke on his wrongs. Alarmingly, he was almost gentle with them, a support for them. 
 
 I was the best fighter in my graduating class. I have lighting quick reflexes, super strength, and the ability to fly over short distances. Think of me as a poor man's Superman. Still, to be even mentioned within the same sentence as the all time great is no insignificant feat. All my classmates knew I was bound for grand things, so too did my hero teachers. Or at least I thought they did, for why would they punish me, sentence me to spend long, boring days with the old Trapper? 
 
 There were a few moments throughout the week that I would look forward to – those rare opportunities that I got to take the initiative. The old Trapper would allot 2-3 criminal apprehensions per week, which he would preside over. He never joined in on the old-fashioned ass kicking. It was fine to me; more for me. He never came right out and said it, but I always felt as if he was slightly disappointed by the way I handled these situations. “ You are much stronger than these gentlemen here. But do you always need to show it fully? ”, he asked once. I never understood him. These were bad men that committed heinous crimes. They deserve nothing but pain. 
 
 We set off one day to one what I figured to be a normal day. He took me aside at the start, however, and said, “ I want to show you something today, something different. There will be no arrests made today. ” Great… here we go. Just when I thought this couldn ’ t get any less exciting, the old geezer is going to show me some Middle Eastern meditation techniques or how to cross-stitch or something unfathomably boring. I was surprised when he pulled up to the joint correction facility and prison. 
 
 “ I thought we weren ’ t working today? Not arresting any criminals? ” 
 
 “ We aren ’ t arresting any. We are going to pay visits to some. ” 
 
 Oh boy. 
 
 We went through the back of the complex with no troubles from the guards, who gave us praise as we strolled through the corridors. The Trapper led me to one cell, one obviously predetermined by the directness we approached it. I looked into and saw it was a criminal I had previously apprehended. He was hunkered down in a corner muttering some imperceptible words. I swelled up with pride, hid it on the outside. “ So this is one less piece of garbage on the streets. Job well done, right? ”, I asked. 
 
 “ A piece of garbage, yes, with no hope to be recycled, ” the Trapper said cryptically. I was confused. “ Have a conversation with this man ” said the Trapper. What was this guy getting at here? I approached the jail cell more nervously than a hero should ever be, especially considering my foe was behind bars. “ Ahem, hey you. Yes, you. I would like to speak with you. ” The figure ’ s head swiveled fast and glared right at me. He stood up strode over to me and began cursing obscenities, with spittle flying from his mouth in his fit of rage. I tried to quiet him, to get him to speak normally, but no amount of imploring worked. 
 
 The Trapper grabbed me by the arm, led me away from the cell to another one in the correctional portion of the facility. This time, he walked right up to the cell and began conversing with its inhabitant. It was a criminal he had brought down a few weeks back. His continence, his whole body seemed to exuberate happiness. He filled the Trapper in on how well his recovery had been going and thanked him for visiting him *again*. 
 
 Afterwards, the Trapper looked me dead in the eye and said, “ While he may be an anomaly, he would never be what he is today – a better man fighting for a second chance – without consideration from someone, anyone. These men have nothing. Beating and reducing them to rubble does nothing for them. It would be better to just off them. They became more wretched and perpetually involved in the system. There is no escape from their hell. But sometimes, even if it is 1 out of a 1,000, there is a break through and they can make change. One life saved is worth a world entire. ” 
 
 I still use my powers in the only way I know how, with physicality, but I only use the necessary force to take a perp down. No more, no less. And I attempt to guide them afterwards, not throw them into a landfill. Man can be recyclable, no matter how rare it is.
