For many years, the small Massachusetts town of Foxborough did not have a single, solitary super.

There were no criminal masterminds in this relatively sleepy town, nor were there any costumed vigilantes to oppose them. Genetics scans were done under the guise of "blood donations" by the curious town government, and they all came up blank.

So of course, the residents of this town were all elated when news broke that a young man, Paul Chudley, a senior at Foxborough High School, Captain of the football team, Honor student, and general All-American boy gained superpowers in a car accident. He was powerful, too- he had powers that were like the legendary Superman, although none of them came close to being as powerful as the vaunted man in blue's were. Paul announced that he would finish High School and then go to West Point to receive his training, in hopes of using his powers to aid the country. The local Congressman, all smiles, thinking about how high his poll numbers would go up, announced that as soon as Paul received his diploma that he, himself would put forth Paul's name. Meanwhile, the young man helped the police in many of their duties around town, and even won a short fight with another super, a 9-foot tall, 600 pound Packers fan causing a ruckus at the town stadium, which was the home of the New England Patriots.

Of course, nearly everyone was elated. Jethro Mannheim was not. He didn't really know Paul, but he did know Mike Chudley, who handed him daily mocking and weekly beatings. Jethro often thought darkly about how easily he could be the "lovable outcast" in a bad teen sitcom. He was kind of like that among his classmates in the 9th grade at FHS, except without the lovable part, or so it seemed.

Mike got even nastier after his brother found out he was a powerful superhero. Since Paul was the kind of brother who would kick the stuffing out of any kid who stood in the way of his brother's sadistic pleasure, Mike now knew he could write his own ticket to anything he wanted. Within three days, Mike was captain of the Junior Varsity football, basketball and lacrosse teams, even though he wasn't particularly good- even though he acted like a muscle-bound goon, on occasion someone as skinny as Jethro could get the best of him in a fight. His grades suddenly shot up, even though he did no work, and he had the pick of any girl he wanted in the grade. All this swelled his head to epic proportions. The weekly beatings turned into every two-day beatings. Jethro's parents, self-indulgent new-age sorts, basically told him to lie down and take it, and then go to a teacher. However, as Paul Chudley could now fry him with x-rays from his eyes, as opposed to the traditional hits to the torso and face, this was not a good course of action.

After about two weeks of this, Jethro, as usual, went home after school, put some Lynryd Skynryd (a band that always managed to piss off his parents, for some reason) on low and sulked. He thought about supers, and how he suddenly disliked him. He was always a big comic book fan, but none of them looked appealing to him anymore. He would never get superpowers. Superpowers went to idiots like Paul Chudley, who's on the honor roll due to the fact that Foxborough is very sports-centered- that and he was banging the local school commissioner's daughter on the side, and that always helps. He thought about Superman and how dumb he was, and Wolverine. Even Batman was obviously taken care of by Alfred. He thought that superpowers must be nature's way of helping idiots, after it noticed that simply mildly enhancing strength and aggressiveness wasn't cutting the mustard…

It then became obvious to Jethro. He would become a Criminal Mastermind.

After all, villains almost always relied solely on brains, and to a lesser extent, henchmen and wealth. The brains he had. The henchmen he could work on, and now just the wealth.

Within the week, he had his plan ready. His henchmen were the school's nerdish kids, who were all intelligent, but got bad grades for the same reason as Jethro- he saw how futile it all was. And they were game when Jethro asked them in help for robbing a bank.

The most helpful, easily, was Arnie Burgher, a kid who spent all his time in Special Education classes. He had underdeveloped verbal capabilities, but was a technical genius. He developed a simple flash-bang grenade, and made several other bombs out of common household materials. And luckily, he had a cousin who worked at the Bank of Foxborough. A cousin who worked there in the hope of helping out "Worldwide Communist Revolution", somehow. Go figure. However, this cousin knew very little about the bank's operations. However, he did make sure some small, timed explosives could be placed around the safe's locks, and tiny nail bombs meant to destroy the cameras could be placed where they wouldn't hurt anyone.

It went off without a hitch. First the nail bombs killed the cameras. Then Jethro and about five others rushed in, wearing goggles and sealed ear-muffs, and let off the flash-bang grenades, which made a blinding flash and a deafening noise. Then, while the tellers were stunned, Jethro set off the time bombs. All it took was a bit of crowbar action before he could grab the cash. All in all, the whole raid took less than 45 seconds. They got 500,000 dollars. Now, Jethro Mannheim would be the world's newest supervillain.

No one ever suspected them in the bank job. They all thought it was the work of a very well organized group of adults. The police had no leads. Jethro decided he liked his new job. He saved most of the money. Paul Chudley vowed to track the robbers down. After a few weeks of futile searching, they stopped running the story.

However, full of confidence, Jethro decided he didn't want to get beaten by Mike that week. So he made a few calls to some chemists and waited.

As usual, it started as he left to walk home. Mike came swaggering up from behind and put his arm around Jethro in a mockery of camaraderie. "Jethro? How ya doin'? Long time no hit!" Mike snickered at his joke. That's when Jethro reached into his coat pocket. Mike was too busy laughing to notice that he was taking out a bottle. Jethro whirled and smashed the bottle of acid into Mike's eyes. He grabbed his eyes and slipped backwards into mud. As he writhed in the filth, Jethro took careful aim and kicked at Mike's crotch with all his force. Mike doubled over and let out a silent squeal. Of course, Paul was out looking for the bank-robbers. Jethro didn't care that Mike was done. He needed this done. Jethro let out one more kick, this one hitting Mike's kidney. Tears streamed from his face silently. He still couldn't talk. The heady feeling of having done gotten revenge filled Jethro as if it was fed into him from a syringe. He walked back home.

The next day was gym class. Jethro stood in the corner of the shower. He never saw it coming. Two of Mike's lacrosse buddies smashed into him, one for each leg. He fell hard on the tile floor. Two more boys came and grabbed his arms while the first two held his kicking legs. Then a fifth came and knelt on his back. Must be Mike. Jethro supposed that this was how the game was played. He didn't beg. Not even when he heard the knife's blade being flicked out. It came down on his leg. They were cutting his hamstring. Someone shoved pair of rolled-up socks in his mouth to keep him quiet. The blade came down on his other hamstring. He was losing a lot of blood. They left him. He couldn't get up. The other boys passed him as they left. Most kicked at him. After recovering from the pain enough to do anything, he propelled himself with his hands towards the exit. Everyone had left. A few of Jethro's friends came back and found him as he tried to claw his way to the locker room. They bandaged his leg and brought him some crutches. He didn't want to go to the doctor with this, and especially not with the school nurse. There was no proof that it was Mike, except for circumstantial evidence that would also indict him. His parents would barely notice his crutches. The boys wanted to plan revenge. Jethro knew he had to wait.

He couldn't wait. The next day, they all got flyers about a "Day Out Against Violence", a picnic event with Paul Chudley there to speak out against "The endemic violence spread by outcasts and misfits against real kids in school". It was happening in two weeks.

He got on his computer that night and set up a front company, Suarez's Catering and Decoration. He entered a bid to cater the Day Out for a ridiculously low price. He won it. He proceeded to make some more discreet calls. All would soon be in place.