Remeber what you said back then, Piper dear?
'You've got to be kidding, I'd never join you!'
I wasn't kidding. And you know what they say, don't you? Never say never. Never.
You may think you know the way the world works, but you don't.
You don't. And that's why bringing down from heaven, my angel, is going to be so much fun.
To your friends, I'm sure everything is black and white. That's how you heroes are trained to think. But you and I both know that's not how you think.
No matter how many times you say different.
But unfortunately for you, that's not enough. You think outside the box, that much is obvious, but you don't know the nature of this world we inhabit. It twists things. Makes them different. Cyclonia was a beautiful place once, did you know that? You should. You should remember the times of peace that reigned when my mother was in charge. They weren't that long ago.
But you probably don't. You don't or, you won't.
Perfectly expectable, I suppose.
You are a 'good guy,' after all. I'm sure you'd rather forget that the soldiers you fight are people just like you. Then you wouldn't want to fight them anymore.
But you have to fight, don't you Piper?
You have to fight, because fighting is the only way you can make sure your boys don't get themselves killed. We both know they'd all be dead if it weren't for you.
Your friends will be the most difficult part in this process.
I still haven't decided on a plan for getting rid of them quite yet.
Oh well. The rest of the plan is all figured out. You'll be by my side soon enough, my dear.
Hm. If I told you that to your face, I wonder what you'd say. That I was crazy? Too late. That I was an idiot? Maybe I am. It took me a while to figure out which method of corruption would work best on you.
You see, there are many ways to twist a soul. The world always plays a part in it, no matter the actual method. I mentioned that earlier, did I not? How the world loves to twist things? The environment one grows up in, makes a base for that person's entire being. Experts on human behavior will tell you that when a person is born, they can be seen as a lump of soft, unused clay. The sculptor, the one that will work the clay, is the environment the person grows up in. And just as a team of artists may trade projects, a change in environment will work the clay differently than the environment before. The tools a sculptor uses, are the people in a person's life. They make the sharp, quick slices and strokes that can completely alter a piece's entire structure.
That is an accurate enough description, for a being's personality. But what analogy can one use to show how a person's heart works?
This is how.
A person's heart can be seen as a pool of white paint.
When someone first enters this world, the pool is pure. Untouched.
Events, people, and places are categorized into different colors of paint. Good things are white. And by stereotype, I suppose less favorable things are black.
Now, this pool of white has paint added to it as things happen in a person's life. When something bad happens, black paint is mixed in, the amount depending on the severity of the event. The whiteness of the paint obviously darkens, turning it grey. The more black paint is added, the darker the grey. And the darker the grey, the darker the person's heart.
Of course, hearts can be lightened once they've turned grey. Good things, good people, and a good life are white paint, like I said earlier. When white paint is added, the shade of grey naturally will get lighter. However, as the saying goes, 'trust is hard to build, easy to break.' Even if a small amount of black paint is added to a person's heart, it'll take a lot of white paint to restore it to it's former light.
In short, black paint makes for a dark heart, and only white paint can hope to bring it back to a light one.
But really, if a person's heart ever gets to be that dark, what kind of life do you think they live? Would there ever be enough white paint in that person's life to bring that person's heart out of the darkness?
That's what I think. And that's how I'll be going about your fall from grace.
I'll keep adding black paint.
Every little thing I'll be doing to you and your team will succeed in darkening the pool of paint that is your heart.
Every threat, every raid, every attack. Even if I don't do it personally, there will be black paint to shed. Snipe, Ravess, Repton, Dark Ace. They'll help with your fall. They'll supply most of the paint. Every attack on your friends, every innocent person killed. It will help bring you to my side.
A dark heart isn't that hard to bend to one's will. You just need to know what to say to get that heart listening. And believe me, birdie, I know what to say.
It won't be that hard, and it won't take that long. Your heart is already grey. The life of a Storm Hawk is tough, I suppose. But don't worry.
You won't be a Storm Hawk for much longer, birdie. You'll be a Talon soon enough. Maybe even a Nightcrawler... no. No, you won't be a Nightcrawler. You don't deserve being stuck working with those monsters. They're loyal, and they get the job done, but... I don't know.
You don't belong in their ranks.
They may listen to me, but they aren't Cyclonians. You will be a Cyclonian. You will not be a Nightcrawler.
A talon commander perhaps. Or maybe my personal assistant. That would be nice... someone who finally understands what I'm talking about when I'm working. Instead of nods and grunts, I'll get some real feedback on my projects.
Once you're heart is grey enough.
Once the amount of black paint in your pool is sufficient enough for my liking, you are mine.
I'll take your heart and keep it under lock and key, so you're friends won't get the chance to sprinkle in any white paint.
If I let them live.
God, if he exists, knows that once you belong to me, your friends are about as dangerous as houseflies. They'll be easy to destroy.
And once they're out of the way, the rest of your old friends will be so vulnerable. Then Rex Guardians, The Absolute Zeroes, all of them. And I'll have help. The Red Eagles. You should remember them, definitely. I heard about Carver's last escapade as a Sky Knight.
He's a fool, but he can fight.
And that's good enough for me.
But enough about the war, let's go back to you, my birdie.
I'll make this simple.
Your heart will be mine, and you will join the right side. You will join me.
Once you're heart is dark enough.
I'll pull you in, I won't let go. You should know how strong I really am, my dear.
Once your pool of paint has been polluted beyond restoration.
I'm not kidding, and you should have never said never.
Remember what you said back then, Piper?
You shouldn't have said it.
If you hadn't said that, maybe I wouldn't have been so intrigued. Maybe I would have stopped thinking about you.
And maybe I would have left you alone.
But you did say it. And you got me interested.
You brought it on yourself.
After all, I'm a predator. One sick, twisted predator.
I like to play with my food.
I'm the cat, you're the mouse. Heh... maybe the birdie. That would fit you better.
Either way, I feel that I've been playing for long enough.
It'll soon be time to swallow you whole.
And I can't wait.
Once the black paint has done it's job...
You. Are. Mine.