For a villain, he was surprisingly easy to kill.

My story was everywhere soon enough and I was labelled before the police even got my statement.

‘HERO CIVILIAN!’

Even the police didn’t believe what I had done, and if it weren’t for the news helicopters I wouldn’t have believed it either.

The villain had been standing over the beaten hero, and I had simply walked up behind him and slashed his throat with a shard of glass.

I didn’t move as blood suddenly spurted over me, only staring right at his eyes as the menacing leather-dressed terror had fallen to the ground.

The hero had stumbled to her feet and looked at me like I was the new villain in her story, tense and prepared to take me down.

She kept looking at the corpse as if she expected him to get up again.

Blood ran down my fingers from the sharp glass and the hero ran when she saw me smile. The cameras didn’t catch it, but saw her running away, never to be seen again.

The media swarms even now, I can hear them outside the station. They’ve long since taken the glass off me and bandaged my hand, but they still look at me like I might slash even more throats with my throbbing hands.

The world might now call me a new hero, but honestly? I feel more villainous than ever…