let me know your thoughts.
not edited.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 SMP 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐏'𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎, 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒. The icy grey sky restlessly grumbles. Unlike the previous weeks, it's nearly transparent and natural. However, that quickly changed.
Harsh rain obliterated the crystal reflection of the sky, evidently turning it into a disorientated chaos. The heavy downpour was rather fitting, really. The rogue continuation of weather that had been piling as the days pass. Indeed, a grim reminder of how one good man can quickly change to a villainous state. Wickedness readying one's mind, with no other, not even the person themselves, taking notice.
Sticking a hand out, the droplets kiss your skin.
You didn't mind the rain truly. It became a common occurrence in the SMP, perhaps during your time as a countryside farmer, you'd have sulked at the thought of ruined crops but feelings change as did the weather.
Still, you couldn't shake off the felt imbalance between heroes and villains. Trembling and groaning, the tipping scale furthering into disparity. The clear-cut reason laughs at the faces of everyone, did you really think you were safe, it hisses, not even a hero can hide from the wicked.
To say the very least, it sent the world into a frenzy. A hero of high caliber straying from his sworn duties, to protect until his last dying breath, and yet, turning cold at the face of destruction. Letting it rumble and run free in the heart of the SMP.
Of course, the press seem frantic in discovering the truth. You had seen that much yesterday with their ongoing cover about Soot. The rest of the heroes, however, were scrambling to ease the fears of citizens. But not even the most dutiful could keep the people's unease to rest; if the number two hero, both charismatic and powerful, were to turn than surely the rest could. With the sudden increase in villainy as well, it became clear that everyone was growing antsy as the wicked made their presence known rather than lurking in the shadows.
You witnessed the act of betrayal as well, surely everyone else did. The madness Soot ensued? It brought a shudder down your spine, like unwanted nimble fingers exploring your skin. To attack one's own comrade is different, but with the intent to ablaze the SMP with the same fury that he once bestowed in villains?
Not much could be seen from the clip on the screen, other than the flurry of energy encircling the number one masked-hero as he struck down his foes—you weren't necessarily surprise, after all if you were to account for his hero name, Nightmare seemed to suffice better than Dream.
"What's on your mind, hm?" asks the man beside you with the crooked grin and dead eyes.
You lick your lips, listening to the quiet patter of the rain. The whispers of the pavement and secrets hidden under the footsteps of the crowd. You hum, shoulder brushing against his bicep as the two of you walk side by side, "Nothing much. Just thinking about well, y'know."
You glance towards the large screen above the SMP, the display of the ex-hero. Buttoned up with the typical attire he wore, too formal in your opinion but still, charismatic. He most definitely had been a favorite. The white-pearled smile with his rosy youthful cheeks, to children it was the ideal definition of a superhero. Golden laced shoulder pads atop the navy blue jacket, almost picture-perfect were it not for the wildflower of hair. Oh yes, both men and women alike favored him. But now, your lips curl downward in pity. Wasn't it saddening to others? To know that as a civilian, you placed the SMP on his shoulders and the once picturesque gold became cracked and wailed at the burden. He too was only a man, whether with or without powers.
Now, the dark-haired man was nothing but a face. An identity unfamiliar to the public and altogether pushed to express himself as the number charismatic hero, Soot.
Of the top three, he seem to hold the most spotlight. Always courteous and polite—sometimes flirty depending on the reporter—but a hero who spoke with heavy words. Hazel eyes collected and bore tragically of every wrongdoing that has been poured upon him, now lips in a firm line and rid of any expression upon the displayed screen.
You stare at the photo a little longer than you'd like to admit, but it was pitiful to see that the people he sworn to protect managed to fail in protecting him. They broke him.
Techno glances up to the screen with little interest. "Ah. Well, not much can be done. He should've known what would've happened if he left," he snorted, digits holding the umbrella a little firmer, "good riddance."
"I suppose.." you draw out with a frown, "...what will happen to him, Techno?"
Hesitant to respond, the pig hybrid glances at the dark cracks between the buildings. "My best guess is he'll turn his back against the SMP. He'll join the 'Antarctic Empire'—" he snorts at the name, "—and probably be in talks with other villains."
You blink. There's a certain oddity to Techno, no doubt about that. But, with such an awkward feel to him and yet tranquil expression, it became increasingly hard to figure him out. He held himself as if a man with a vendetta, not wary of any such thing around but cautious. Never arrogant but walks with confidence. Despite having known him for a measly twenty four hours, he seem relatively harmless (minus the threatening harm he was ready to impose when you first met) to you. Still, Techno had powers and any with such were usually a hero or villain.
You were too afraid to ask.
"All he did was leave," you murmur, attempting to defend the hopeless hero.
His lips twitch upwards, fingers firmly grasping at the umbrella between you. "Sometimes, that's more than enough, princess."
"He really doesn't deserve your pity. He made his choice."
Huffing in amusement at his not so subtle pout, you murmur, "I don't pity him. I just get him. The pressure, at least. He shouldn't have had so much pressure on him, maybe then he wouldn't have gone insane."
"Well, hadn't he made the choice of becoming a hero?"
"Techno." He halts, hearing the undertone of your voice. It's bone-chilling, but the corner of his lips twitch upwards. It's a poor attempt of hiding his smirk. You, on the other hand, stare at the ground with a glare. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth pulled in a snarl, you ask "does anyone?"
There's a bitter silence between the two of you.
"Who are you?"
You turn to him with a close-eyed smile. "I could ask the same about you."
Techno grins.
"Let's meet that boss of yours, eh?"
ʚ ❂ ɞ
𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 of the city, gloomy and unpleasant. Vines crawl up window sills and the crumbling plaster envelopes the old stone bricks, becoming daunting as the sun sets behind the skyline of chimneys. In the dim light that oozes through a narrow gap lies the Blade.
"Have you done what you need to do?" he asks, voice gruff and it's powerful presence shaking the olden and crumbling stones.
Frost steps are left in the essence of a stranger. As he walks to his counterpart, the shifting of his appearance moves and sounds like rusting old gears grinding against each other. The natural brown of his hair washing into a golden brush. Lighter earthy hues resorting in it's ring of azure, hanging under his iris. The depth of wickedness, no longer of tall stature, and glints of mischief. He meets the yellow-eyed gaze with almost equal stature.
"I don't understand why I have to do such busy work," he sighs, turning his nose away in response, "you have far more than me and yet here you are, off socializing with this minx."
The Blade doesn't respond to his retort and with the swipe of his smoke, the critters behind him wither away in one motion. "Careful now. Don't let her hear you say that. "
He snorts, curling his fingers against the worn beanie. "I beg to differ. She's a regular woman with no prowess."
The hybrid chuckles, a huff escaping from his parted lips. "Your task is simply to keep watch. Remember that."
"Ah yes," the stranger sneers, but it's no use arguing with the man, "I'll be keeping away assuredly. I won't be touching a pretty hair of hers at all."
"Good," The Blade rumbles, eliciting a scoff from the other, "or else, I'd have to get rid of you."
With the firm end of his response, the villain ventures in the depths of wickedness whilst the other bypasses him with a glare. The alley is left with nothing but the orchestra of the urban night playing its eerie song.