The look on their faces said it all. The uproarious crowd that’d gathered and cheered their hero on was brought to silence.

Fourteen years crescendo’d to the moment where instead of a reveal and baring truth, the faithful were informed, “You’re part of my experiment. Nothing that I told you was ever true. You can read the details in the paper that I’ve published.”

Mouths gaped. The fabled caped crusader that had prepared to fell forsaken enemies, turned eyes – disgusted – against the one who’d promised their deliverance.

Gasps rose – louder cries then followed: The bat-bedecked had charged the stage – he dove for the visionary man they’d followed.

“What the,” was the sentiment ‘twas shared by everyone that saw. The planned assault, the tackle launched, found – nothing: The cape-shorn one sailed through the vision and landed with a flump upon the surface.

He quickly stood – considered the projection. What was verbalized was the same conclusion that all present and otherwise contrived: “An imposter.” The superhero warned the many gathered, “We’ve been duped. Our guy’s been compromised – it’s a trap.”

The stampede that followed left several injured, but none of it was serious. Despite belief they’d been corralled for apprehension, everyone was allowed to walk away.

Weeks later, in a prison cell beneath a mountain, a journal would land beside a man in shackles. It landed, open to an article entitled, “Cult of personality and population control.”

The feeble words, “You’ll never get away with this,” met return, with, “We did.”