The ceiling is a boring, blank white. It's fitting, I suppose. Blank white ceiling, blank white walls, blank white sheets, blank white cell for me, Blank Slate. Maybe my past self would have seen it as ironic but all I can think of it is how sad of an end it is.

After all I did, after all this time, I still ended up here, in this cell, pumped full of so much power suppressants that I hardly have the strength to sit up. I am defenseless. Completely, utterly defenseless. Normally the thought would strike fear, but it doesn't, only regret.

All the things I did, all the people standing in my way I...I killed, was for what? This cell? A legacy of blood and destruction? Now that I am here, lying on very well might be by death bed, it seems worthless. Pointless. A horrible, bloody scar on my supposedly blank slate. This can't be what I wanted. It can't be my purpose. It can't be my end.

And yet, it is. I am captured. My secrets, my lies, are out and I have no allies to bail me out. Even the Villain Rehabilitation program, open for every captured villain, is gone. Or at least, I think it is. Why would they bother rehabilitating me? They can't make sure I won't hurt anyone without completely compromising my immune system with a constant flow of power suppressants like they are doing right now, and that is no way to live. In their eyes, it is easier to kill me. Better to kill me, even.

The contents of my stomach curdle and ferment. With a sigh, I close my eyes and stare into the darkness of my mind interspersed with static. Two faces stare back. One is my younger self, around twelve, who still has hope and determination gleaming in his eyes. The other is the picture on my file: me in my villain costume smirking in a confident and almost cocky way.

These faces were me. Are me. And yet, they are strangers. I do not remember being them like I should. Who were you really? I ask them. What did you want? Do you regret anything you did? Was the choices you made worth it?

We are you, they reply. We did what we thought was right.

And I suppose that is the problem. I did what I thought was right. I thought being Deception's exception was the right move. I thought believing her word that she would come back was right. I thought doing all those bad things to make her come back was the right choice.

I thought but I didn't know. How could I? How can someone know good from evil? Lies from truth? A good choice versus a bad one? Each can be twisted into the other, made please to the eye in the moment when all that lies behind it is rotting roots and thorny embraces. I, as me and only me, can't tell.

But there is a difference between them. There is truth, lies, good, and evil. There has to be—so many proclaim to believe it. So many people act like there is. Perhaps...just no one in the world can tell—truly tell—what it is. Or Perhaps people do know the difference and I am the one in the dark.

I don't know. And at this point, it doesn't matter. I won't find out before the day the heroes come to kill me instead of feeding me.

The door to my cell beeps and swishes to the side. Footsteps approach, stopping near my head. The chair placed beside my bed scrapes against the floor as it is pulled closer.

Opening my eyes, I turn my head. Citizen sits beside me, a crease in his brow. His curls are smoothed back from his face and he wears no mask. Up this close, it is obvious that we are brothers. Same curly hair—though his are darker brown than mine—same angled face—but his is sharper—and same smattering of freckles across his nose.

How did I never notice? For that matter, how did he not notice that I was his brother? He must have known for a while and just...didn't tell me. Why? And for how long? I squint, an ache blooming under my ribs.

How long did all of them know that Denizen was a sham? How long was I bumbling around in the dark, thinking I was playing them when they already knew all my secrets? Was that even the case? Or did Citizen keep it to himself and he was the only one to know?

My mind flashes back to the moment where I caught Citizen watching me and David play and the smoldering look in his eyes. Smoldering and...full of pain. He knew who I was, then. That I am sure. Why else would he look as if he was torn in half?

My skin prickles and I shake myself out of my thoughts, narrowing my eyes at Citizen. Why is he here? I have only seen him once in the week after they brought me here, and that was only from a distance as they wheeled me in. He's been avoiding me. All of them have. Even...David. Is he alright? Did—did he survive the...the building?

A spark of ice snaps its fingers at the back of my neck and a wave of calm slams into my senses, rolling my thoughts like grains of sand caught in the surf. Blinking hard, I wait for the calm to recede enough for me to gather my thoughts. It sticks to them like egg whites, scrambling them and making it almost impossible to think straight. Eventually, though, I manage to slosh through.

Clearing my throat, I focus my eyes on Citizen. "Did you come here just to stare at me?"

Citizen's lip twitches and he shakes his head, meeting my gaze. "Do you regret it? Blanking a hero HQ again, I mean."

Screams. Falling. A sharp pain from my shoulder. Then, more screams. Wincing, I turn my face away, swallowing against the bile rising to my mouth. They haven't told me how many people I've hurt or...or...or...killed. They haven't told me anything, really.

Sometimes I am grateful; I don't want to know. What if it's a lot? What if I've hurt too many people again? Other times, I can't stand it. I need to know if I have— killed again. I need to know if everyone survived.

So do I regret it? Of course I do. I am going to die now. People...may have died because of me. Again. I haven't changed. I am still a villain. I am still evil enough to kill people. A shudder makes its way down my spine, spilling bitter words from my mouth. "Yes. Always."

Citizen's gaze bores into me as if it is an X-ray and he can see into my thoughts. "Why?"

I snort, glancing at him. "Because I hate murdering people—why else?"

He narrows his eyes and hesitates, lips pressed together and shadows cloaking his face. "But you are a villain." A question mark hangs in the beat after his words, as if he is unsure if his statement is a question.

A villain. Villains kill people. But I...don't. "I just want to survive, not kill people."

"And your purpose? 'To unmake what is to be remade?'" Citizen's mouth puckers as if the words are sour and he clenches his fingers around the edge of my bed so hard they turn white.

The image of the ENglass slate flashes across my mind, "we are not evil" standing out against the haze of my memory. "I know as much as you do. It's about as vague as it gets."

"You don't know your purpose...and you still chose to be a villain. Why?" He tips his head, scrutinizing me.

"What else was I supposed to do? Come clean and get captured? That's a death warrant and I don't want to die." My throat closes on my breath, sealing it inside as my insides squeeze into a small ball. Saying it out loud makes it all the more real. I don't want to die. I don't want this to be my end. But what choice do I have?

Citizen's head snaps towards me, eyes blazing and voice crackling with fire and authority. "You are not going to die!"

Not going to die? What did he think I was doing here? "I killed your team leader, for Parasite's sake! Blanked two hero HQs!" The words catch in my throat and I choke, the back of my eyeballs burning with the threat of tears. "Why wouldn't you heroes kill me? I'm a threat." I hurt people. I killed people. I—I am a horrible person. I deserve to die.

"Because she's not dead!" Citizen jerks to his feet, a snarl flashing across his face even as his eyes glisten. "And you're my brother—" His voice cracks and he swipes a hand over his face, inhaling shakily. "—and I...don't want you to die. I meant what I said back there. I don't want to lose someone I care about again."

The thrum of my heart is loud in my ears, everything else inside of me frozen. "She's...not dead?" But the news said—the news lies. Of course. I was silly to believe it. But where is she, if she's alive?

Citizen hunches his shoulders, looking away, curls falling over his face. He does not speak for a long moment, stiff and motionless as a steel bar. When he finally speaks, his voice is choked and tenuous, trembling with many things unsaid. "Yes. But she's not alive either."

I frown. How can she be not dead but not alive? Is she...in stasis? I thought the scientists still insisted it was impossible. Or...have they been proven wrong? The answer slips away from me, sliding back into the sea of soupy static and I don't bother trying to retrieve it.

"You blanked her. She...lost all of her memories. All of them. It's like...she's a baby again, relearning how to talk, walk, eat..." His voice cracks and he shakes his head slowly, putting a hand over his face. All at once, as if the strings holding him up were cut, he slumps back into his chair. "...She won't relearn before she dies to the Parasite."

Something inside of me cracks and a fierce ache blooms under my collarbone. She is as good as dead. He leaves the words unsaid, letting them hang in the silence like wickedly sharp icicles hanging off of the lip of a skyscraper's roof, but I hear them anyway.

She is alive, but she doesn't know who she used to be. What kind of life is that? What kind of pain do the Storm Cell team go through every day knowing their leader is in some institute, alive but not living? It must be worse for them than if she had died. If I had just killed her. It is a fate worse than death.

No wonder every time they mentioned Blank Slate they looked like they wanted to strangle me. I am such a cruel, evil villain to do that to them. My thoughts sour and crack, twisting my gut into a painful knot. "All...the more reason to kill me."

"NO!" Citizen rounds on me, eyes blazing. "Don't you see? You're my brother! I became a hero to find you and there's nothing in this world that can make me kill you as soon as I do. I am not going to lose you. I am not going to let someone I care about slip through my fingers again."

Ripples cascade through the static, sending prickling shivers under my skin. He cares for Vulpine. He cares for me. A lot. Enough that he—he became a hero to find me. For me! All this time for me? He's been looking ever since I disappeared? A lump forms in my throat and I struggle to swallow it. I don't deserve that. I am not worth that much, am I? "I don't deserve that," I whisper.

Citizen shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. We all don't deserve second chances, but that doesn't stop us from receiving them."

Is he suggesting that he is giving me a second chance? Would...I take it? Images filter up through my soggy thoughts, filling my head with bits of anger, fear, hopelessness, frustration, longing for friendship or another way, heartache for what I had before. I...don't want to return to that. But how can I take a second chance when all my efforts led me to do the same thing I did in the first place? "Aren't you worried I...I will turn on you? Blank you too?"

He tenses, pressing his lips together and I catch the flash of hesitation in his eyes. My stomach drops, spreading acid and an ache all through my midsection. He doesn't trust me not to.

Slowly, as if he is measuring each word against the truth he says, "You...are not evil. You will change. I know you will."

"But—"

"No. I've seen evil—so much evil—and you are not it. You regret, for one, and you've said it yourself that you don't want to kill people. Those aren't the traits of someone evil."

"But I still did those things." I eye him, lip twitching and chest aching. "And you don't trust me not to."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "How can I not, Elias? You disappeared, and then, after all these years, you showed up making the villain rankings. I knew it was you, Elias. I know your power. And then you blanked Vulpine..." Pain scrunches his face. "You did it willingly. Or maybe...it was Deception's fault. I don't know. But I can't just forget that, Elias, but I...I still trust that the brother I know is somewhere in there and I know I can trust him."

The ache stills, fading into the edges of my perpetual exhaustion and leaving room for his words to seep in. He knew it was me. He knows it was me and all the horrible things I've done.

And yet...here he is saying that he will trust me. But can I return it? Can I trust him?