Chapter Text
The date was May 5th, 2036.
``Wilbur Soot, you’ve been quite the hard villain to catch, wouldn’t you say?``
``Perhaps you just need better police service.`` The cop scowled at Wilbur's response before visibly waving off the cop who currently stood behind Wilbur.
Wilbur leaned back in the chair, visibly relaxed as if the questioning room was just the average living room and he was having a cup of tea with some old mates.
``Wilbur Soot, do you have any idea why you are here?`` The officer tried again with a much simpler approach.
``Well that depends-`` Wilbur sat up in the chair, putting his cuffed hands onto the cold table, ``Was it my loitering that got me arrested? Or was it my great singing so you kind gentlemen wanted a song? I could write one up ya know-``
Wilbur leaned back in the chair again, smiling over his shoulder to the over officer. ``I wouldn’t be hard to write up a quick tune about bastar-``
SLAM.
The room spun as Wilbur instinctively drew his head away from the table as soon as the pressure from the back of it was gone.
He couldn’t understand the mudded voices of the two officers, which should have been his first concern, but Wilbur was having a hard time keeping himself steady at that moment. His eyes were drawn to the bright color now on the table that hadn’t been there before.
The room had been dull and everything was metal. No color. No life. But now there was a blob of red before him. Wilbur's mind didn’t supply what the red was until he touched it and found the red on his fingers.
It was a sobering moment as his breath hitched. Shit.
It was like the world slammed on its brakes and made everything crash onto him at once. The world was still spinning but suddenly those mudded voices weren’t so mudded, and suddenly he didn’t feel as out of it.
Instead he felt a knot in his stomach that made him want to throw up. The confidence was beginning to drain.
``Wilbur-``
Wilbur looked up to the officer who looked far too calm to see the man he is currently questioning bleeding from his forehead. That didn’t give Wilbur much hope for what could possibly happen in this meeting room.
``I’m going to be direct now. You are here because of several accounts of first degree murder, not to mention several accounts of arson, evading arrest,-``
Wilbur nodded off as the offer counted off the crimes Wilbur was being charged with. Wilbur knew what he did, but the splitting headache now was making it hard to focus.
There was another slap to the back of his head, but at least this time it didn’t send his face into the table again.
Wilbur looked back up to the officer who cleared his throat before asking his question again. ``As I was saying, there will be an agent who will be in to question and evaluate you tomorrow. Until then, you will be kept in solitary confinement.``
The officer grabbed Wilbur by one of his arms and pulled him up even as he stumbled from the force of getting pulled around like nothing.
Wilbur could feel the eyes on him as he was practically dragged down the halls until they reached the solitary confinement which would be his new home for a bit.
He hit the wall on the other side of the room as he was shoved in. The door being slammed closed which plunged him into complete darkness.
He felt his way around until he reached the small bed where he could lay down.
Where had he gone wrong? He could ask himself these questions all night yet he’d get no closer to the answer. Because to Wilbur- he did good.
The people he killed? They were murderers.
The arson? They were corrupted businesses or just bad people.
Wilbur was helping out and defending those who were considered nothing like he had been. Yet he was looked at as a menace by the police and heroes alike. He was a villain in the people's history.
But… was he the villain in everyone's history?
The small and knowing smiles Wilbur would exchange with George at breakfast made him smile in the darkness. It was like having a light in a pit. George was his light, his sun- so bright and warm.
Wilbur would have been on the street because of him. Did George see him as a villain though?
A knowing part told Wilbur that yes George did see him as a villain- but a hopeful side- A side that Wilbur knew if he let take control he’d lose control of his tears and the waterworks would begin- was hopeful that George still saw him as that homeless guy he found on the sidewalk and brought home like a stray.
Wilbur wondered if he was the villain in Dreams history too… Wilbur had less hope with Dream. Dream had hated him for a while now. It was almost laughable how jealous Dream got when Wilbur would flirt with George and how the two were getting along so well.
Wilbur loved their banter when they were enemies as hero and villain. Wilbur thought of him as a friend at that time. A part of him hoped Dream did too. Maybe all the banter, all the late night talks-...
It feels so far away now.