Porcelain found himself in the office of Johansson, Sawyer, and O'Reilly- three of the top lawyers in the city. They would defend anyone for a very high fee, and Porcelain knew that they'd never lost a case because they had friends in high places and an endless amount of cash with which to pay off juries. A while ago, he would have been pulling out files and bank accounts and emails, memorizing every word and then releasing them to the public to see their legal system at work. But Kurt Hummel had put on his suit for the last time, and soon Porcelain would just be a name in old newspapers. He'd promised Blaine that they would be together away from the endless drama of super-people, and he couldn't do that if people were still waiting around for a supervillain that he didn't want to be anymore.

Oh, he still believed that the law enforcement and the mayor and every superhero that ever stepped foot in Lima City were people who were either corrupt or about to be corrupted against the ignorant populous, and he didn't think he would ever trust much of anyone beyond Blaine, but he couldn't keep breaking in and interfering with a system that didn't want his help. If he never brought change to the world, then at least he'd be part of the greatest love story ever told.

So he pulled on his black one-piece suit with the silver swirling lines down his chest and his mask and the most comfortable pair of boots known to man. He picked a place and carefully planned his way in. He dodged the security system and unlocked the door easily. And then he waited. It was only a matter of time before The Warbler showed up and it was all over. He wouldn't turn himself in and date Blaine from prison (he certainly wasn't telling his boyfriend that he'd been a supervillain for a good portion of his life), but he could fake his own death after staging his last battle with the hero of Lima City.

"You've been quiet, Porcelain. That makes me think you've been up to something."

Porcelain- Kurt turned so that he could send his customary smirk (if a little less enthusiastically) at his last foe. "Good morning, birdie. It's been a while." Even he could hear in his voice that he just wasn't into this.

"I don't see anything out of place."

"I'm not working too much today."

"Finally decided to give up crime?"

"Something like that."

"There's a cell with your name on it out at Lima City prison."

"No thanks. Tell me, Warbler, have you ever been in love?"

The hero was caught off-guard. But the smallest of smiles spread over his face. "I have... it's... well, it's wonderful."

"Then you'll understand why this is the last time I'll be seeing you."

"You can't tell me you, of all people, fell in love. That's-"

"So very unlike a villain, I know. But I was a baby once. And a little kid. I had a mother. I have a father. And I can love. I'm just as human as you are. Maybe I'm a little more honest about my intentions-"

"I'm not corrupt," The Warbler growled.

"Fine, fine. Whatever you say. Either way, it shouldn't be so... so surprising. I know hurt, so it's only fair that I get a little happiness."

"So you're blaming your pain for everything you've ever done and love for your sudden disappearance?" He seemed so skeptical that the villain that would always be in Kurt took over with a hateful glare.

"My mother was murdered by people like you! By heroes! You can't tell me that I'm not justified! She trusted you! She thought you would save her! But no! You all shot her in the head! You killed her!"

The Warbler couldn't speak. He couldn't respond. Because behind his eyes, Porcelain lost his mask. He lost his suit. He wore Alexander McQueen and Marc Jacobs and owned more scarves than anyone else on the planet. He visited his father every Friday and most Tuesdays. His birthday was May 27. His mother was killed when he was eight by her friends and he didn't like people with superpowers. Porcelain's name was Kurt Hummel. He was dating Blaine Anderson.

And Blaine Anderson was The Warbler. Who was staring at a supervillain. He was staring at his boyfriend. How had he never noticed it? Even with the mask, his eyes were still the same blue-gray-green that he loved. Even though he was cockier and angry, his voice still sounded like angels. Even if he was in black spandex, his body was still thin but lithe and secretly toned like a dancer.

"Say something!"

"K-Kurt," the hero breathed out with wide eyes.

"What?!"

"Kurt- I-"

"How did you know my-"

The doors burst open and the windows shattered as SWAT teams and police officers swarmed the office building. Whether he was Porcelain or Kurt Hummel, he didn't have time to defend himself before he felt two things happen.

One, a bullet entered his chest just a little to the right of his heart.

"KURT!"

And two, he fell to the floor and everything faded to black.

Everything hurt. That's all he could decipher when he came to. It was too bright behind his eyelids and his chest was on fire. Kurt groaned and cracked his eyes open to relieve the pressure in his head. It didn't work, but he almost panicked and bolted upright when the sight he was greeted with wasn't the white ceiling of his bedroom or even the various posters of Blaine's bedroom. Above him was gray, soulless concrete with cracks and unidentified stains. He knew immediately where he was, and it did nothing to put him at ease.

He was in prison. He was in jail, and he was going to die because no one would ever let him live to see twenty-one. Not in Lima City. Not after everything he'd done.

"You're awake," a gruff voice barked.

He craned his neck to the side, wincing at its stiffness, and took in the appearance of a ragged guard (one that he wouldn't mess with if he didn't want his head ripped off by very meaty hands). He didn't reply. He wasn't expected to.

"There's someone here to see you. I don't know why. Maybe he wants to get in one last blow. You'll be gone by morning, you know."

There were footsteps almost immediately after the guard gave a quick hand gesture somewhere down the hall. The echoes were hurried, like the owner was only barely keeping himself from running. The guard rolled his eyes and unlocked the door (it was if he knew Kurt couldn't move without the burn in his chest flaring up so badly that it left him gasping for breath) before he exited in the direction the footsteps were coming from. It must've been a long hall, Kurt guessed with dry amusement.

And then Blaine was there- Blaine- and he looked so scared and so hurt that Kurt wished he had the strength to hide himself from this whole confrontation.

Blaine walked into the cell and then he really couldn't keep from running the few yards in to get to Kurt and he threw himself on his knees and cried; he cried and held Kurt's hand and it was awful to watch because the other man just wanted to die so he wouldn't have to feel the guilt in the same region as the gunshot wound he knew he was recovering from.

But while Blaine was sobbing (over his broken heart at having a villain for a boyfriend or in terror because said boyfriend was obviously going to be executed as soon as possible, Kurt wasn't sure), Kurt let himself think. He let himself realize that he'd been dating a superhero, his sworn enemy, and that he really couldn't care less because he still loved the man whether or not it conflicted with the ideals he'd had from a very young age.

"You should have told me," Blaine choked out.

"You could've done the same." Kurt hated how weak his voice sounded.

"I know- God, I know. I wish I had. Kurt. I wish- We could've worked this out, and- I still can't believe I love you." That hurt, and Blaine knew it, but it had to be said. "You're a supervillain. My enemy. But I... I can't lose you. I won't lose you."

"They're going to kill me anyway, Blaine." He didn't accept it, not really, but it was true.

"You were- there was so much blood... and you weren't moving. The SWAT team guy, he- he thought he'd killed you and I was so angry. I punched him in the face and screamed. But the Chief, he said you were alive, barely, and I flew you to the hospital- and..."

"You should've let me die there."

"I couldn't."

"It's no different than what will happen tomorrow or tonight or-" Kurt gasped in pain as his wound flared again- "or whenever they have it planned."

"But you never... I was thinking, Kurt. You never hurt anybody. You had hostages all the time but they were always safe and sound. Why didn't you hurt anybody?"

"I wanted to prove a point, not- not kill anybody."

"What point? What point could be worth all this?"

"I... I don't know anymore." And that was all he had to say about it. There was no way to explain the mindset he'd been in for almost thirteen years, no way to justify what he'd done and what he'd wanted so that a superhero would understand.

"I don't care," Blaine said with more determination than ever. "I'm going to get you out of here. There won't be any Warbler and there won't be Porcelain, okay? We'll be Kurt and Blaine somewhere else and it will all work out."

Kurt didn't believe him, but it was a nice fantasy.

It turned out that dawn was still the stereotypical execution hour. He was dragged out of his cell at five in the morning to wait for the mayor and the Chief of Police so that they could take away his life. Blaine hadn't shown up (as himself or as The Warbler), so Kurt resolved that he'd decided he needed to move on, and that was alright.

The supervillain (although he wasn't in a mask, and without it he looked kind of... innocent and his eyes spoke of so much pain that even the guard he didn't like was a little reluctant with speeding the sentence along) was strapped to a chair like common criminals on death row. There was no crowd, no camera. No one would know that he was dead until they announced it later. There was no one to mourn for him. His father would never know what happened because they still didn't know that his name was Kurt Hummel. A syringe was filled with some liquid Kurt couldn't be bothered to think of the name for, all he knew was that he was going to be in oblivion soon, and he wouldn't even know it.

The doctor that they'd called in for the procedure looked at him blankly for a moment.

The Mayor opened his mouth to ask one final question.

The Chief of Police adjusted his badge and kept his eyes on the floor.

The guard with meaty hands nodded once in his direction, almost a final salute.

The syringe looked like it was ready to plunge into his arm.

And then everything descended into chaos when The Warbler literally burst through the wall and smashed the weapon to the ground without hesitation. He was breathing heavily and his arm was frozen where it had stopped after knocking the needle away.

He'd never looked more like a hero to Kurt than in that moment.