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ᴛʜʀᴏᴡ ᴀ ᴘᴇʙʙʟᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢʙɪʀᴅ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ)
"Stop!" "No! Not this time... I'm taking over the world and you can't stop me!"
so... part four to "melody of the earth," "no rock 'n roll, just soft words," and "well known lullaby, rubble brain" (what the hell kind of title is that, lol?) time!!
(someone closed my browser, and i lost all that i had written. i wanna cry.)
Dissaya and Pakorn saw it nearly thirty years ago, when they were heroes in training. They saw it, and turned towards villainy when it was clear that being a hero would get them nowhere.
They turned to villainy in order to simply survive, and Pran cannot hold that against them.
Pat saw it when he and Pran were still kids, and he adjusted accordingly. He rose above the chaos of adversity and found his footing amongst the adversaries of the heroes.
Pran should have seen it coming, right from the start. He should have seen how the top heroes would turn from caring about their charges to nonchalance.
Pran didn't. Pran couldn't.
He didn't, until he saw it with his own eyes. Until he watched as a hero torched the city, uncaring of civilian screams for a mercy that will never come.
He couldn't, until he himself is a casualty of careless and ruthless heroes. No, they're more like villains, not heroes.
Pat and his parents were right: heroes were not to be trusted, they are not the saviours that the masses believe them to be.
They take what they want and give very little — if anything — back.
They are shallow and hungry for money and fame.
They are poison to society.
Pran was blinded by their fake smiles and their weak promises in his pursuit to become one of them. He was a fool to believe in them, and he will never forgive himself for it.
Fuck all of the fake glory. He would rather be a villain than one who calls themselves a hero.
Standing on shaky legs, Pran's ears ring painfully. He can feel the blood painting the side of his face red, and it makes his skin crawl. It's not just his blood either, it's their blood — the blood of the civilians he has tried to save.
Tried and failed...
The ringing stops and then starts back up again, and Pran shakes his head, blearily realising that it's his in-ear com from Pat. "Pat—"
"Where the hell are you?" Pat sounds out of breath and absolutely livid. "The city is burning, and I haven't been able to get—"
"Oh, I'm sorry! I've been fucking out cold, you asshole! It comes with the territory of trying to kick the asses of fuckers who want to destroy the city!"
"...who did it?"
"It doesn't matter."
The ground trembles. "Pran!"
"they're dead! it doesn't matter, pebble brain!"
"Did you...?" Pat is shocked, to say the least. "Pran, tell me you didn't."
"Who else?" Pran hisses, ducking behind a wall out of way of the wall of fire. "I'm not innocent, ai'sat. I've killed before."
"You killed a hero. Do you know what that means, songbird? What—"
"Theerak, I was never going to escape my fate. I just took the long way around, thanks to my mae and phaw — and you. No more steering me away from being who I was meant to be."
"Pran, baby..."
"I shouldn't have listened to any of you. I should have listened to my gut."
Pran laughs dryly up at the smoke and ash filled sky, irritated that it has taken him so long. Even though he denied it vehemently back when they were teenagers, Pran knows that he has always been a villain at heart.
He would have never escaped it, no matter how hard he fought.
"Pran, I need you to—"
"I'm going to do it, Pat. What we used to talk about as kids, when we were so blinded by the heroes? We used to talk about being the best and taking control; taking over the world and making it a paradise..."
Pat sucks in a sharp breath. "Pran, stop."
Pran laughs, almost delirious. "Why should I stop? They haven't. They're still killing innocent people, without a cause. I can stop them, you know that."
"This isn't you, songbird. It never has been."
"You're wrong. This is exactly me, and I'm so tired of fighting it."
"Stop!"
"No! Not this time, Pat... I'm taking over the world and you can't stop me."
"Your ability—"
"It still works on you, so don't try to play that card. The amount of times that i have manipulated you over the past few years, and you haven't realised, is amusing."
"What did you do to me?"
"Nothing bad. Simple things, like taking out the damn trash, you messy fucker." Pran pushes off the wall and cracks his neck, humming. "See you on the other side, theerak. I'm going dark."
"Pr—"
Ripping out his in-ear com, Pran tucks it safely into a small pocket of his "hero" uniform. He laughs at the irony. Wearing a costume to save people, only for it to be a symbol of a poisonous hero society.
Pran feels sick to his stomach, but he doesn't have time for his regret.
He told Pat a little white lie: he did more than make Pat take out the trash. He has built up a small chain reaction of controls inside Pat's brain, knowing that it would one day come to something like this; a day where Pat wouldn't willingly listen to him.
"I'm sorry, theerak," he whispers into the wind. "There was no other way."
Activating the built-in microphone and network hacker built into his suit — courtesy of Pat and Dissaya — Pran sings. He sings, and controls them all. He proves them all right: he is a villain.
