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Michael felt a surge of happiness, knowing he had received Edward's approval, even though he didn't necessarily need it. However, his excitement was dampened by the reality of a registration fee that he simply couldn't afford, as he was in a dire financial situation, worse off than a mere bum.

"Well, you want to be a villain, don't you? Let's see if you have the knack for it," Edward goaded with a mischievous smirk, encouraging Michael to act on his impulses. In that moment, it felt as if their thoughts were perfectly synchronized.

"You read my mind like a porn magazine," Michael exclaimed, a sense of exhilaration washing over him as he considered the possibility of actually earning money or, perhaps, resorting to less lawful means to obtain it.

Edward continued to prod him, testing to see if Michael was truly serious about his ambition to become a supervillain or if it had been a fleeting notion spoken in the heat of the moment.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Edward questioned, raising a skeptical eyebrow at his friend's cringe-worthy and unrelated remark.

"Have you heard about the recent discovery?" Michael asked, brushing off the dirt from his clothes as he regained his footing.

"What discovery?" Edward inquired, following suit and standing upright.

"There's this story about how to know if you have superpowers, and you can only find out once you turn eighteen. It's like the universe's way of gifting you something extraordinary at the cusp of adulthood," Michael blurted out, his excitement evident.

Edward couldn't contain himself and burst into laughter.

"Now that sounds like something taken straight out of a porn show gone wrong!" he exclaimed, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. Michael couldn't help but feel embarrassed as he considered the idea once more – it did sound rather corny.

"Shut up, asshole!" Michael retorted, but their bravado soon faded an imposing figure approached them. The man's appearance alone spelled trouble – a pale-skinned, bald individual with a dragon tattoo etched onto his temple, and dark brown eyes that seemed to pierce right into Edward's soul. Strangely enough, there was a hint of familiarity in his gaze.

Edward sensed the danger and whispered to Michael to stay back and keep quiet, taking charge of the situation. Michael complied without hesitation; he secretly had no desire to get involved, especially when these guys looked like bad news, but it appeared that Edward had some personal history with them.

"You got my shit?" The man demanded, and Edward reluctantly nodded, stealing a quick glance at the confused Michael before reaching into his pocket to hand over a small black nylon.

"This better be the A-grade shit, or I'm coming back to fuck you up!" the man threatened, snatching the nylon from Edward's hand before walking away.

Michael had a lot of questions swirling in his mind, but he didn't know where to begin. Meanwhile, Edward couldn't bring himself to meet Michael's eyes, fully aware of the weight of the situation and what it meant.

"Man… What was his problem?" Michael blurted out, trying to sound annoyed and feigning obliviousness to the encounter he had just witnessed.

"Michael… What you just saw…." Edward hesitated, grappling with the decision to reveal his involvement in whatever had transpired. However, Michael could sense the unease and decided not to push his friend to disclose anything he wasn't ready to share.

"Shut up! You'll tell me whenever you're ready. Let's get out of here before another one of your friends shows up," Michael asserted, steering the conversation away from the tense topic. He started walking away, with Edward trailing behind him, a smile gradually spreading across his face.

They walked together in mostly silence, but it was a comfortable one, unburdened by the need for constant conversation. In that peaceful quietude, their unspoken understanding and camaraderie spoke volumes, reinforcing the strong bond between the two friends.

Michael pondered how he could make some money, and a part of him was tempted to ask Edward about his own source of income and whether there was a way for him to get involved. However, he hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject.

Observing Edward's demeanor, it seemed as though his friend was barely keeping things together – perhaps that explained how they managed to make ends meet. Michael couldn't help but wonder about Edward's father and what he did for a living.

"Edward… I have a question…." Michael finally spoke up, the inquiry already evident in his eyes.

"I would never do that, Michael! I would never sell to your mother!" Edward vehemently denied, instantly reassured him which brought some relief to Michael's mind. Whatever it was that Edward was involved in, it wasn't the everyday drugs. It involved a very rare and peculiar substance being distributed in underground channels.

This substance was crafted by a supervillain, someone with a unique ability to generate it.

They bid their farewells, each heading their separate ways. Michael made his way home, bracing himself for what awaited him there, while Edward ventured elsewhere, perhaps to carry out his mysterious dealings.

"Michael… WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO?!" The sound of his father's angry, drunken voice reverberated throughout the house, a scene all too familiar to Michael. His mother, on the other hand, was displaying the telltale signs of withdrawal.

"You know what, father? I think you should just go die," Michael seethed in his mind, the unspoken words of frustration and resentment that he dared not utter aloud.

"Well… I went to pick you up from the bar; that's why you're home," Michael stated with a hint of smugness, blending a half-truth with a lie. He knew that confronting his father would only lead to further chaos, so he chose instead to use his quick wit and clever evasion to pacify the volatile situation.

Michael's father didn't pay much attention to him as he walked past, but his keen eyes caught sight of a jar that had always been hidden away from him, now sitting out in the open. It held a certain allure – a jar that seemed to contain their family's secrets.

Throughout his life, they had barely scraped by, living a meager existence that made even the impoverished look prosperous. In their destitution, Michael wondered if there was a level below poverty, and they seemed to be living in it.

A single thought flashed through Michael's mind like a lightning bolt

"I have to take it…." The temptation was strong, knowing that whatever was in that jar might hold the key to easing his trouble.

Michael calculated the risks in his head. If he took the contents of the jar, the chances of being discovered were slim. His parents weren't the most competent individuals, and their ongoing substance abuse further clouded their ability to gather their thoughts. The opportunity seemed too good to pass up, even if it meant delving into morally gray territory.

The solution to his problem lay right before Michael – the jar, an enigmatic vessel that held the potential to change their lives. Despite their many faults, he couldn't help but admire his parents for resisting the temptation to use its contents to feed their addictions, only occasionally adding to it with whatever little they could scrape together. It was a grim reminder of their twisted priorities.

Yet, in the face of this opportunity, Michael felt neither remorse nor hesitation. He knew he could potentially ruin his family with this act, driving them deeper into the abyss of poverty, but he couldn't let the chance slip away. Opportunities like this came once in a lifetime, and he was willing to seize it with both hands, consequences be damned.

If it failed, at least he could die knowing he had given this life his all, leaving no room for regrets or "what ifs" in the future. Despite lacking the most fundamental aspect of being a true 'super' villain – superpowers – he had decided that he would go through with it. He had all but made up his mind.

"I will do it!" Michael whispered to himself.