I sat in a little chair, tapping my knuckles against a wooden desk. The handcuffs pinched my skin with every movement. I had worn them so many times that I barely acknowledged the pain.

Everything about the room was the same. The walls were the plain white that they always were. I sat behind a long desk that had a computer and nothing else on it. The only other thing in the room was a little fake plant that was perched in the corner.

Usually, other criminals weren't given the luxury of waiting for their verdicts in an office. After being in the holding cell so many times, though, I was kicked here so that the guards didn't have to deal with me anymore.

I stared at my reflection in the window. The dark blue jumpsuit that I was wearing was overly baggy. You would think that after being here so many times that they would have gotten my size right. At least I wasn't wearing the tux. That thing was itchy and impossible to move in.

A man with clean, black hair and a grey suit opened the door. I cracked a smile as he sat down on the other side of the desk.

"As!" I cried. "How's it going, man?"

He crossed his arms. "You know that I recently gave you permission to use my first name. We can go back to formalities if necessary."

I threw my hands up in a surrender, which failed due to the handcuffs. I went back to knocking on the table. "Sorry. Forgot."

Aston leaned back in his chair. It was one of those spinning ones.  I wanted to twirl around in it one of these days. "This is the ninth time that you've been sent to Villian Jail, Silas. This is a problem."

"For you, maybe," I said. "But I'm actually starting to enjoy the food."

"You're not supposed to start enjoying the food!" Aston cried. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His voice had evened out and he went back to his lifeless expression. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

I shrugged. "Throw me out for round ten?"

"I'm afraid we can't do that. This time, you're going to be put in jail for a while."

I stopped tapping on the table. "What? Why?"

"Jayce Everette," Aston said. "A very rich man from Germany. He supported our heroes and participated in a lot of events involving them. During your explosion, a few things of debris smacked his head. He died."

My eyes widened. "Wow."

"We've let you go before because you've never harmed someone. Not until now, at least."

I looked at the floor. All I had wanted to do was steal a few diamonds or whatever Danny had told me was supposed to be in that room. That box might have been empty for all I knew. Did someone really die because of a cardboard box?

"You don't have to go to jail, though." My eyes darted to his. They were staring at me with the same intensity and seriousness that they always held. Gosh, he and Danny both need a night out.

"You're a good fighter," he said. "You don't like to show it, but I've seen it before. With the right training, you could become a great hero."

My mouth flew open. It took me a few seconds to register what he had said. Once it blended in my brain for another minute, I said, "Hero?"

Aston nodded. "There's a spot open in the Hero's Training Program. You could save the world. Use your skills for good. Defeat bad guys."

"Sounds like it would benefit you more than me."

"What part of it doesn't benefit you?" he shot back. "You would be praised for what you do."

I shrugged. "I lose my freedom, though. I know how controlling you guys are."

"Much better than being behind bars four times a year, yeah?"

I slid my hands over my head. Strands of hair twisted between my fingers. Hero? Me? I couldn't be nice. I couldn't listen to orders. I couldn't save people. I could barely save myself. How did Aston think that this was a good idea?

We stared at each other for the longest of time. Something told me that he was trying to send me a message with his eyes. I was never really good at reading facial expressions, though, so whatever he was trying to say completely flew over my head. Instead, I took the moment of silence to imagine myself wearing a cape and tight pants. It ended up transitioning from me to Aston. I broke out laughing at the thought.

"What?" Aston asked, puzzled.

I took a second to recollect myself. Aston in a superhero outfit would be a terrible sight.

Aston sighed tiredly. It was obvious that I was wearing him out. "This is serious," he said. "Unless you want to rot in a jail cell, I'd accept my offer."

I leaned in, close enough to where Aston's body tensed. "I'd rather be trapped in a cell than controlled by you goons."

Aston snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. We both know that you can barely sit still for five minutes. Being locked up for years is going to kill you."

I got up from the chair. We both knew that I couldn't go anywhere, but I didn't want to look at his face any longer. What he was proposing was far more complicated than just turning from a villain into a hero. It would change my lifestyle. I would have to go from real laughs to fake ones. I wouldn't be allowed to do anything I liked.

Danny would be out of my life for good. He would never switch to good. Not for me, not for anyone.

I couldn't.

"How about this." I flinched as Aston's hand fell on my shoulder. I didn't hear him get up. "Try the program for a year, and if you don't like it, we'll let you go."

A year of being around goody-two-shoes and getting dirty looks from heroes sounded like torture. I sighed. It was better than how long I would have been in Villian Jail for, though.

I turned to look at Aston. My face must have given away my answer, for Aston grinned.

"Great. Follow me, Mr. Gage."

Aston led me to a room that looked like a waiting room at a doctor's office. I was ordered to sit in one of the empty chairs. He then approached a woman at the desk. Her glasses were propped on the tip of her nose, revealing her bright pink eyes. I hadn't seen anyone with pink eyes before. Purple and green, sure, but I couldn't recall seeing a hero with pink eyes.

The lady looked away from Aston and at me. Anyone else would have looked away after being caught staring. Instead, I leaned forward, keeping eye contact. Her eyes immediately fell back on Aston, her face turning as pink as her eyes.

I leaned back and grinned. Messing with these people was almost too easy.

After a couple of more minutes, Aston came back with a clipboard. He set it on my lap.

"Hands," he ordered. I did as told, smiling as Aston slid the key into the handcuffs and set me free. "Just fill this out."

Aston tossed me a pen. It landed between my fingers. I curled it around my knuckles. Aston rolled his eyes. He sat a couple chairs away from me. He obviously wasn't in a chatting mood.

I focused my gaze on the papers. The first questions were simple. Name: Silas Gage. Age: 27. Gender: Male.

As I marked my answers, the reality of what I was doing hit me. Was I really letting myself turn good? I would have to stop stealing things, stop making fun of people, and stop laughing at graffiti images. What was the fun in that?

I continued to fill out the paperwork, anyway. Only a year, Silas, I reassured myself. Then you can go back to being Raven.

Once I finished, I stood up and walked over to Aston. He was texting frantically. I waited impatiently, making sure to cough and whistle every few minutes. Aston finally looked up at me.

He snatched the clipboard from my hands. "I'll lead you to your room."

"Before that," I stopped Aston before he could walk away, "can I ask you one favor?"

"What?"

I cracked a smile. "Can I have a phone call?"