Thank you.

It wasn't a term that he was accustomed to use; it had never fluttered freely from his tongue before. Though he said thank you carelessly to his teammates, he never truly appreciated the sentiment. Sentiments and requests such as please, may I, after you, I care and I will. They were for normal sensible people. Normal sensible people did not subject their children to being part of a charade, no matter how real they try to make it. Normal sensible people do not keep promises that they have any power over. Normal sensible people do not parade around in flamboyant costumes with the mind set of saving people from a fate that they cannot control. And above all, such people do not go solo and find other delusional individuals to follow in one's footsteps, dancing in the brink of morality and maintaining the façade of strength and invincibility.

Knowing this, he had two reasons for continuing this dance. In all necessity, the show must go on, and before that criminal had even thought of the idea, they were already marionettes to society's whim. Parade, show, protect, and win. Be perfect, be extraordinary. Be something everyone else wants to be but knows they will never succeed.

Be a hero.

Be someone inspirational. Anyone could tell that he was. Little boys wore his trademark uniform; little girls felt safer knowing that he was around. Teenagers and grown up a like all drew strength from him, and though he did not possess any supernatural powers, he constantly felt that persistent tug on his soul from his teammates; all craving a portion of his spirit, his backbone, his honour. All counting on him. All depending on him. Then it hit him.

Who the hell could he depend on?

Who would be there so that he could draw strength for tomorrow?

He had been in this predicament before. This sense of disillusion. It gnawed on his skull like a parasite. Engraved tooth marks and knocked on the cracks creating that forever present headache. Everyone's voice held an air of disappointment, and every confident action he made was mirrored intimately with an act of limitation. He was leader, but not sole protector. He was a confided in, but not the only confidant. A shadow flashed and carried a sinuous shrill wind. The adrenaline pumped and pulsed through his veins. He recognised that call. Foreseeable, inevitable, the exact place, waiting... and now the wait was over. He dared himself constantly and he never could disappoint himself.

He walked through the fire.

He was the only person to wear his soul.

But his friends tried to douse out that fire and his teammates tried to call him a liar. Even with one of them witnessing his turmoil first hand. He could not fathom why he had such an energetic desire for betrayal. Destruction and immoral acts gave him his purpose, his purpose to set things right so that the rest of the world could go on with the show, to carry on the charade.

A deep breath and a meticulous thought pattern separated them.

A fine line.

So thin that it rivalled that of a black widows.

However, no clandestine mistress had lured him away from his cause. He rocked on the balls of his feet before leaping at the clap of thunder. No lightning struck the night and he landed blind. But his harsh landing did not make his legs pause or his adrenaline rush falter. Instinctively, he followed that surreptitious shadow. Like a vampire, he hunted that source of blood. A loose stone. A smashed window. An open door. And a close fist.

"You're late."

Hey! C'est la vie!
Remember me? I made you,
Dressed and trained you.

That fist was closely followed with a knee and a flexed foot, covered in stainless steel. A mound of skin fills with purple ink on his left rib. Defiance races through and he roars into life, launching attacks left, right and centre. Despite his efforts, none of them make a mark and the only one on target is caught easily within the superior grasp. The master didn't have to utter a word, the same word was pressing against their lips.

Sloppy.

And the juvenile knew it. That is what he had become; it was imprinted on all his movements. Last fall he was able to land a blow, create that bruise that took months to heal. Even his signature moves were off centre. Wordlessly, his master planted more seeds of anarchy, scratching deeper, shoving his gloved fingers under his skin. Maintenance work was always a delicate art. They goaded his skin to toughen, for the muscles in and around his heart to harden and pump more robustly. It was impractical for his creation to be less than imperfect. He had to carry on this charade on the right side of the law. But that was not to be the path that his life permanently operated on. He was made for decadence, dressed in corruption and trained in the malicious arts.

And he was so bad that he was brilliant.

A true wolf in sheep's clothing.

The onyx vulture soaring with pearl doves. Obsidian, agate, jasper and jet failed to twinkle and faded into the background of his numb black mind. His friend's became just names and those names became nouns and the word friend just became a word that was duly erased from his vocabulary. Morals that were forthright beliefs became idealistic fancies, those fancies drowned in an ocean of disdain; beliefs became a shallow husk of what they once were and the word moral transformed into a lesson and gained a new perspective. Right and wrong were just annoying utterances and a command was a duty that needed to be fulfilled. A reflex nurtured with the highest respect. No questions asked.

"Will you destroy all that you hold dear? In order to serve me, you must let go of your past."

A solemn nod.

"In order to serve me, you must shatter your pretence of justice. Sever all relationships. Apprentice?"

"I'll do as you say."

"Good boy."

¡Hola! I know it has been months since I have even looked at this site, but I felt that I owned people and my imagination. In case you've given up on me, I will update and finish Raindrops on Roses and Kind Ice. This little rendition here is just to get my imagination a break from all the exams and coursework and deadlines. Inspired by Shinedown's 'I Own You', I will be doing a part on each titan.

If you review, I will actually love you forever. Really sorry for my absence without explanation.

D-I-WaRrIa

(Standard Disclaimer applies.)