Michael Wilson

Michael bid farewell to Edward as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a veil of darkness that swallowed their shadows. They knew the neighborhood was perilous, and Michael was well aware that he had no chance of surviving on the streets.

This harsh reality played a significant role in why he endured living with his abusive parents. In his mind, there was still a glimmer of hope as long as he clung to life. The brief joy he experienced while talking to Edward evaporated the moment he stepped foot into his home. A suffocating sense of despair enveloped him, as if invisible hands were tightening around his throat.

Years of verbal abuse from his parents had left Michael feeling inadequate and small. In his darkest moments, he entertained violent thoughts, wishing he could do away with both of them. Yet, beneath the seething hatred, a part of him still longed for their love and approval. He yearned to be the reason they could be proud of him, despite their cruelty.

Michael chuckled bitterly at his predicament, finding dark humor in the wretchedness of his living conditions. The house he entered was a disarray of cluttered plates, with cockroaches replacing the siblings he had wished for, and rats scurrying about as if they were rightful occupants. As repulsive as it all seemed, he had grown accustomed to such sights from a young age.

The only silver lining in this hellhole was the TV placed on the creaky floor. Fortunately, the superhero-inspired stations were available for free, including the news. Despite being among the poorest, Michael could still watch and marvel at the impressive feats of the superheroes, a temporary escape from his bleak reality.

"Are you back, Michael?" A gentle voice called out; it was the voice of his mother. Don't be deceived by her angelic tone, for even the devil could compose a symphony.

Michael didn't bother with a response; she did this every time he returned. Sometimes, it felt like two people were inside her, and it was becoming tiring.

"Michael, baby, c-come give your mother a hug," The gentle tone now sounded frantic and desperate. Michael stood there for a full minute before making his way to the voice that called out behind the door to a room by the corner.

He opened it, and his mother lunged at him, not lovingly but as if she wanted to hold him in place for something, and there it was, just as Michael expected.

"W-Where is it, you little shit!" The woman demanded, searching his ragged clothes for something.

"I-I know you must have some money!" She continued, and Michael couldn't help but smile to himself. Soon, that smile turned into a chuckle, which then escalated into full-on laughter as he struggled with the turmoil inside his mind.

"Why the hell did I think this time would be different? Why did you give birth to me if you knew you both couldn't take care of me?" Michael asked, though he knew no reply would come. The woman who was supposed to offer him unconditional love had only taught him how to hate.

He already knew where his father was without asking, probably passed out on the street somewhere. After his mother had searched and insulted him, she finally released him and crawled back to the edge of her bed, looking like a lady straight from The Rings.

"GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT!" His mother screamed when she couldn't extract anything from him, and Michael did just that, closing her room as he returned to the parlor with its ripped-up couches.

He turned on the old TV, and they were premiering the launch of a new superhero group. Michael wished he had the power to turn his life around, but dreams don't come true for people like him.

Michael noticed no food around, so he went to bed with an empty stomach. He wished he had a proper bed, but the only place he could sleep was the dirty couch in the sitting room.

The next morning, something felt off as he woke up. It wasn't the usual way he was accustomed to; he was used to being woken up by his father's fists, but that wasn't the case right now.

He had woken himself up, and when he looked outside, he noticed the sun was already well up. A sudden realization hit him; he instinctively knew something had happened to his father. Strangely, this was something he had wished for, for the longest time, but now, mixed emotions clouded his heart.

Michael was overwhelmed with worry, fearing that something might have happened to his father. The contradiction in his emotions at that moment left him unsettled. He considered going to meet Edward for support, but he didn't want to burden his friend with this task, so he faced it on his own.

As he stepped outside, he couldn't help but notice the grim reality of the neighborhood. Inappropriate clothing, people less fortunate than him passed out on the road - it all reminded him that someone else always had it worse, which made him hesitant to complain about his own struggles.

Michael had learned to invalidate his own hardships as a coping mechanism. It was a way to bear life's harsh hand without being crushed by the weight of it all.

He searched for his father, continually asking himself why things had turned out this way. He checked the bars his father frequented, but there was no sign of him. Just as he was about to give up hope, a poster caught his eye.

"Ever wondered what it would be like being a supervillain? Wonder no more. Come join me at my supervillain agency, and let's throw the world into chaos together," read the provocative poster. Michael couldn't believe his eyes; a surge of excitement and curiosity stirred within him for the first time in a long while.

A supervillain agency? This had to be some kind of trap; his skeptical side took over because he had learned at a young age that if something was too good to be true, then it was too good to be true. There was no in-between, and this lesson had stuck with him even now that he was grown.

Yet, he couldn't help but ponder the opportunity that this agency presented. If it was true, it wasn't like his life was worth much at this moment, as no one would even know if he disappeared. No one, except for Edward. Yes, Edward! Michael thought that Edward would know best.

"Are you looking for your father, kid?" A husky voiced man interrupted Michael's thoughts, forcing him to turn his head 90 degrees. It was a muscular, dark-skinned, well-chiseled man.

"H-Hi Mr. Jones…" Michael greeted, but he received no response from Jones. Instead, Jones pointed to the corner of the bar to show Michael where his father was, and Michael grunted in annoyance. He now planned to see Edward right after he took his father home.