Okay, so this is my first fanfiction story, so it's probably not very good. Give me some constructive criticism, please! I'm going to rate it T, just for how the game is T, and some topics mentioned aren't exactly all sunshine and lollipops. Have fun!
Delsin was on the roof of The Crocodile, looking over the Seattle, all of it. Every car with their headlights on bright to drive through the night. Every pedestrian walking through in raincoats with hoods down. Every streetlamp that irradiated a subtle yellow glow, all of it.
And he wasn't happy.
Delsin had felt like he had done it all. He gained famed, notoriety, powers, revenge, all the stuff that he felt he wanted. Except for one thing. He hadn't been able to save the tribe. Instead, he had killed all them. Why? He asked himself, why had he murdered every single one of them? Was it to quicken their inevitable deaths by Concrete Shards? That's what Delsin told himself.
He had tried to make it as painless as possible for them. After Betty's disowning of him and the destruction of the Longhouse, Delsin moved forward to euthanize the rest of his former tribe by himself. He had told Fetch and Eugene to stay in Seattle to deal with some remaining DUP soldiers while he went to fix his friends and family. They of course understood.
Delsin thought back on his actions. Had he actually been trying to help them? Or was it a selfish act of anger and revenge that justified itself as euthanasia? As finishing their pain before it was unbearable? Nowadays, Delsin couldn't tell.
Delsin was also thinking about, well, now. Just what was he doing? Running around, murdering law enforcement that stood in his way, killing civilians? At first, when it was all new, it was exciting, but now? It was aimless. Pointless. Sure, there's a bit of a kick draining neon lights, chimneys, and tv screens, and there's a little cool feeling when getting shot at and shooting back. But was it enough? Delsin was starting to think not.
Whenever Delsin went to the Fetch's little apartment that he was staying at, he would look at himself in the mirror and not even recognize the person on the other side. What was once a handsome young man, with a bright face and a devil-may-care attitude, was now a gaunt, dark, sneering thug, with sunken eyes, and blackened marks all around his skin, whether they be from ash his hands produced, or bruises from bullets that hadn't fully healed yet. He was hideous. Why? Was it because he had become a worker person? He heard the philosophy that being a better person made you look better, or have a better aura or junk like that and vice versa, but could that actually be true? Could his sprees of murder be really affecting him?
And what about his parents? What would they think about all this senseless mayhem and murder if they were alive? It was like Reggie said, would they be proud of him?
Oh god, Reggie! What would he think? When Reggie was living, he had always acted like Delsin was being a nuisance, a bad kid like usual. Why? He had clearly either heard and seen what Delsin was doing, so why never bring it up? Why never get on his ass about it much? Was it….was Reggie in denial? Was Reggie just so horrified about Delsin was doing that he willingly ignored it? Delsin now realized, he was. Reggie was in denial about his brother being a monster. It all made sense. Delsin was getting sick. His brother, his only blood family left, had died lying to himself. God, it was horrible.
Nothing felt right. He had power, notoriety, but at what cost? His appearance? The hatred from his family? The deaths of those close to him? It didn't feel worth it. Delsin felt like he could throw up.
Maybe it's what I deserve, Delsin thought to himself. Maybe this is karma biting my ass back.
Delsin started remembering this book his old high school English teacher had him read. An Innocent Guy, it was called. It was a philosophy book, something about morals, and the author said that most people act good out of fear of God and Hell, or stuff like that, so they weren't truly good. He said that in order for people to actually be good people, they would have to commit an evil action, one truly despicable, and decide whether samaritanism felt better than sadism. Thinking on that, Delsin realized how he could feel better. He would have actually become a better person, act like a hero, get people to love him, be that Good Samaritan, and then he might feel better. But no one would accept that. Delsin had had a long reign of terror, so why would the public start to trust him? They wouldn't.
And so Delsin, speeding to the top of the Space Needle, decided on what he should do. He was going to forget all these previous plans about absorbing th power from all those conduits at Curden Cay. In fact, he would have to ignore them entirely. If they were to broken out and released by him, all those innocent Conduits would be blamed for working with a known Terrorist, they would be associated with him, Fetch, and Eugene, and not only would it be chaos, those left behind could be tried for treason, or worse, and he executed. No, those people would have to stay.
But what was Delsin going to do? And then, an idea sparked inside his mind. He would leave Seattle, leave the state, even the region, to somewhere safe for the three of them. A place, like a normal suburb, where he wouldn't be known, where he wouldn't have to be detected as being a conduit. How would he do it, though? Easy. First, Delsin would have to convince Fetch and Eugene of his plan, and then they'd have to get new names and pasts, something Delsin felt would be easy with Eugene's technical skills. And their faces were too recognizable, so maybe they would have a crime doctor or the like give them surgery, to change their faces. They'd be entirely different people, ones that you wouldn't suspect a thing about, the kind that did kind deeds for the community. Yeah, that's it. He could be a better person. He could be good, for on