Prologue

Do you want powers beyond your wildest imaginations?
Yes, I do!
Are you willing to pay the price?
....

It was under a bridge, with a cool breeze touching my skin. My tears dried up making my cheeks feel sticky. I had a fight with my mom. More like she slapped me when I least expected it. It really hurt you know. The abstract slap that was hit at my intentions. 
I know mothers love their kids, and they sometimes strike as a form of care. As a reflex action that is the result of their worries. I understand that she hit me because she was worried about my rash actions. What I do not understand is, if I, being a kid, far from what a mother is, am able to understand that and think rationally, why are the people including my mother unable to do so. Why do they not understand that my rash actions, my wishes, they concede with my wishes and dreams. Why do they not accept me and love for me, for trying to be a good boy, for doing good things for others, Why did she not hug me, when she knew, that all I wanted was to be a 
                                                                        HERO.