Has not been proof-read. It has been a while and I just want to say "Hi" with this story.
Deception
Possession—things that belonged to you; your property; your right of ownership to material or emotion. Morally, not people. But he had no morale. He was born this way.
Bad and destructive. He loved to think he owned the world and everyone in it. His rule would someday come. First, he needed to destroy whoever stood in the way.
"I suggest you put him down before I beat you to a pulp!" That green one, someone on the list he of whom he needed to get rid of, threatened him from the entrance of the bank.
Submissive—a form of cowardliness; an obedience only the weak portrayed. He didn't take orders. He was the boss.
And then the pink one, "Buttercup let me handle this. Brick, you're not going to like where this ends up if you don't listen!"
Respect—an attitude of kindness and great admiration for someone of high status or even equal position. She nearly deserved this, that pinky.
"Brick, do not test me! I've had enough of your antics!" She could catch his attention anywhere.
Not because of her undeniable attractiveness for a mutant teenager, but for her near equal intelligence and leadership qualities that made him jealous.
She was made before him. Therefore, he was the copy. He was the number two, not the first nor the original one. It was only instinct for her to enrage him and push him over the edge when she interrupted his time to have the attention and the fear of the people she protected.
He unwillingly let the helpless victim he held twenty feet above the ground drop to his fate.
In an instant a blue and green streak descended downward in the direction of the helpless citizen, who had let out a scream as he fell, leaving the two in a dangerous stand off.
"I am tired of wreaking havoc on Townsville fighting with you!" Her voice seemed to crack and contain a trace of regret, possibly for all the times she destroyed her precious home trying to eliminate the threat he presented.
A thought ran through his mind about how to respond, but he sensed she was holding back a weight on her chest she was ready to release.
She cried out, "Please! Please... let's stop this... I've seen you try, I've seen you be good..."
"That was a mere plan that failed to gain your trust and finally get rid of you from standing in my way of what I truly want to accomplish in this life of mine, a life in which my main objective is to see you disappear,"
As children, he attended her school, a mission in which befriending the trio of heroines was to be betrayed to make rise to his curator and "father."
But that pinky was always one step ahead. Always being cautious with her every move to believe in his heroics.
"Some part of it must of been real," she flew closer, "Professor believes it was, and I want to help you, I don't want to see you do more evil,"
Disgusted, he flew back, "None of it was real. And had you not exposed our plans, maybe it would of been best you just let it play out the way it should of and forget any good you believed was in me,"
"But your brothers..."
A sour taste spread throughout his mouth, "They became brain washed! And I won't let you change who I am the way you changed my brothers,"
Her head fell, and she looked back up to him after her eyes became drowned in her own sorrow, "I wish you would of just killed me when you had me alone that night, because I believed in you then, I wouldn't of even seen it coming. I was so stupid to think that maybe you were—"
"Like you? Good?"
"Honest,"
He swallowed something hard in his throat. It almost felt like something she seemed to understand before he could.
She had to, as she reached out to him, "It has to be true..."
Her wrist, caught by his hand, fought against his hold as he brought her closer himself.
"No matter what part of it was truth, I can not ignore what matters most to me," he pierced into her eyes with his own, "and that is to see you beg me for mercy when your existence lies in my own hands,"
Tears stride down her face, her lips closing to prevent the sobs escaping. The sight of her nearly pleased him, but he needed to hear her once more. In that sound of near defeat and regret for giving him the one thing she let him keep.
"Sometimes I wonder why you're doing this,"
He turned to her, "Doing what?"
"Fighting by our side," she hide her blush by turning to look the other way, the dark of the night shadowing her face as the moon cascaded onto her velvet dress, "Protecting this place I call home,"
"I know there is more I can do,"
"You've done—"
"For you,"
Her blush, now in his line of sight, deepened. The nervous tingle on the surface of her soft lips growing to such burning sensations all over her face and down to her toes as he closed in on them with his own.
With a hand over her's, he brought it over his shoulder, pulling her close. The reaction of her body falling into the curves of his made sense in both of their minds. She was a missing piece of a puzzle he hadn't known he was a part of.
Before either of them could explore what had just been discovered, the sound of footsteps came from around the corner.
"Blossom! Hurry, we're about to cut your cake!"
It was her baby sister, all too excited to begin the singing and presents as she ran off without the birthday girl.
"I'm so sorry I shouldn't of—"
He rejected her apology, "Don't be. I'm not."
Her pink eyes fluttered open and closed, and he'd never seen her fiddle so nervously before, "I-I shouldn't be. You're right. I just can't believe what just happened. I just need time to think about what just happened. As the older sister I should be more careful about the example I'm setting, I mean if she had seen that, what would she think of me?"
"Don't let this stress you out, go on, they're waiting and I need to think about what I just did, as well. I feel as if I overstepped my boundaries," he chuckled, and she giggled.
"No, no, Brick.." she sighed, "I really liked this.. You'll catch up?"
"Yeah," he seen her soft smile before she left him in the silence of the night.
When the door closed behind her, he'd smirked. Taking out a small, folded paper from the pocket in his suit, he added a mark onto the following word.
Deception—a facade of trust; an illusion of true motive or intentions.