The old man sighs, shadows crossing his expression. "There was... an accident. In the world I'm from, there are some people who can do things most can't. Fly, or magic, or what-have-you. A good number of those use their talents to try to help people--they put on costumes, protect the innocent, and they weren't... weren't really accountable to anyone. They were volunteers."

He sighs. "There was an accident. A team of... kids, practically, they found some criminals with powers and they picked a fight. For a reality show." He shakes his head in dismay. "Middle of the day, suburban Connecticut, and this fight spills toward an elementary school. One of the criminals, he could turn anything he touched into a bomb... and he got thrown against a school bus."

He takes a moment, closing his eyes, bowing his head, to mourn the lives lost, then drags himself back to the present to continue. "The public panicked. There'd been people who wanted to register some of the powered people for a long time, and they rode the fear to get sweeping legislation, a law: the Super Hero Registration Act. If you had powers, any kind at all, you either registered and got drafted, or you didn't and you were a criminal."