Hi~ This is just a little oneshot that was preventing me from focusing on the story that I should be updating right now... but you know, I'll do that in a few moments (probably). I hope you enjoy! R&R!
Villains are generally the misunderstood children, the outcasts, and the loners. They generally have dark pasts and a twisted view and believe that if they can take control, they could change it. Arthur had known that for a long time.
It was a truth he encountered everyday.
Heroes too, had dark pasts. They had every reason to hate the world, but someone would come along and make them see the light. And some, some just knew deep down, that they had to protect their home and their people.
The way he saw it, villains had very little excuse.
Arthur wasn't one of the latter at first. He hasn't wanted to use his magic to help others; he hadn't cared what he did with it. That was when he met Al.
It had been a long time ago. Around the time Arthur was 11. He didn't have any friends, and he'd transferred to a new school at the beginning of the year. The new kid charm had worn off a few months earlier, leaving him friendless and alone, just as he'd been before.
It didn't bother him anymore. He was used to it. He'd adopted a cynical perspective and as a result couldn't relate to kids his age anymore. Not that he wanted to.
Arthur knew whom Al was before February break. He had never spoken to him, and they shared no classes. So what possessed Al to talk to him, Arthur figured he'd never know.
The brit smiled humorlessly as he swirled his drink, watching the ice melt. He felt oddly nostalgic tonight.
Al had only hung out with him at recess for a week, the week before break when a good chunk of his friends had left for vacation. Arthur hadn't really replied, he'd just sort of sat there and nodded in all the right places. What confused him was how it'd stayed with him. Al's grand speeches about the heroes in his comics and the happy tone in his voice. The way he'd ordered his classmate to 'cheer up' and how he'd taken time to hang out with Arthur, even though he never responded.
Al hadn't come back after vacation. Rumors circulated about his dad getting a new job, or perhaps his mother getting sick. The rumors ranged from practical to down right cruel. Some wondered if Al had gone and killed himself.
Arthur didn't buy it. The teachers didn't say anything, so Arthur brushed it off and continued with life.
The rumors and Al were forgotten in mere weeks.
But Al's stories and enthusiasm haunted Arthur. It stayed with him, and imprinted its self onto his soul. It brought Arthur to where he was today. A hero and damn proud to be one.
Arthur finished his drink and left some money on the counter. Wrapping his jacket around his shoulders, he left the bar.
His thoughts wandered away from nostalgia as he strolled down the dark streets. It was a clear night for the city. Arthur noticed when he looked up. There were several stars out. He came back down and shoved his hand into his pockets, focusing on work.
The streets of New York had been whispering of a new villain lately. He seemed to be everywhere. A man in a dark suit and a fancy dark mask, going by Masquerade. He'd started out small, as villains usually do. Simple heists, petty crime, and perhaps later on a murder. From what Arthur knew Masquerade was a stereotypical villain. He had a dark, but foggy past, a taste for world domination, and a habit of long monologues.
It hadn't really worried Arthur till recently, when he'd encountered him himself.
Masquerade was going to do something big. He'd gotten gutsy lately, hacking into government computers and stealing high tech weapons. Arthur figured it was time to give him what he wanted and take him seriously.
Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, shivering slightly in the chilly fall weather.
To Arthur Masquerade normally wouldn't be worth thinking about. He'd go in and methodically take him out once he became a threat. So what was different this time?
Arthur really didn't have the slightest inkling.
"Hello, Masquerade." Arthur stopped and waited for his call to alert his follower he was well aware of their presence.
"It's a nice night, isn't it?" The villain commented. He wasn't dressed up tonight; he wore only his mask from his usual costume, and ordinary clothes.
Arthur subconsciously used magic to alter his face and bring out the marking and characteristic of his usual hero look.
The hero looked at Masquerade and sighed to himself. 'So young.' Blue eyes shone through the slits in the decorative dark mask and betrayed nothing.
"I suppose." Arthur leaned against the side if the building, taking note of the emptiness of the street. Masquerade didn't respond, instead, the boy sat on the rail across from Arthur. The Brit found himself a little annoyed. He'd done this type of thing with more villains then he could count, and tonight he wasn't really in the mood. "What do you want?"
"Calm down Merlin," Arthur hated the name, it was rather cheesy, and it reminded him of his nephew, who'd chosen it.
Arthur's thoughts strayed to his nephew Peter, who'd become a hero under the name King Arthur. He and his knights of the round table had potential, but they were young, and rather foolish. Without Arthur there to pull then out of trouble, they'd have been long dead.
Arthur mentally frowned, had he let his annoyance show that much?
Masquerade laughed, as if he knew what Arthur was thinking. "I just want to talk." He sounded so clichéd, so scripted. Arthur noticed. 'Is he aware?'
Arthur didn't ask, he instead raised his eyebrow and asked. "About?" The villain shrugged, and Arthur notice how he held himself as though he hasn't slept in a very, very long time. The poor boy was exhausted.
Their conversation didn't really progress from there, and before Arthur could blink Masquerade was gone. The magician waited before releasing the glamour over his face and returning to his apartment. He made no note of how lonely Masquerade had sounded and quickly forgot about the conversation.
Everyone was talking about Masquerade. The organization had sent out a small reconnaissance team a week ago, only to have them come back battered and unconscious.
They were officially taking him seriously, and Arthur had requested to go after him. They had granted the request of course, he was bloody Merlin, but they'd done so grudgingly. Arthur hasn't paid them any mind however and continued planning.
'Arthur looped his cloak over his shoulders and altered his appearance. He crouched and jumped. Landing on a rooftop. There, he waited.'
Arthur knew that Masquerade would make his move soon; the whole city seemed to know. Masquerade wasn't exactly being subtle. The Brit shifted his cloak in discomfort. He really needed to get a more comfortable cloak.
Arthur's eyes scanned the city; he had the King and his knight's spread out and watch. They were under orders to do nothing without him. Arthur himself was in Rockefeller Center. It was busy, as usual. It really wasn't anything new. Arthur shifted again. Something felt wrong. He sent out a message to the knights and waited.
Finally he got a response. It was Peter, and he sounded terrified.
"W-w-we found h-him." Then he was gone and Arthur froze. In all his years, he'd never managed to get over that split second of hesitation. Then he was all but flying over the city following Peter's message.
It took him to Times Square, where every screen was a lit with Masquerades face.
Arthur began to search. He knew Masquerade wouldn't be far, the villains never were. So Arthur ignored the beginning half of Masquerades monologue, dutifully searching for where Masquerade was hiding.
Then something Masquerade said caught his attention.
Peter and the Knights messaged Arthur, saying they were fine and that he should focus on Masquerade. Arthur responded dumbly, muttering and nodding his head.
"I used to believe in heroes." Arthur was sure he'd heard similar things before, so why did it strike him now?
"I even wanted to be one." At this Masquerade laughed.
Arthur couldn't figure it out. He seemed so familiar...
"But you know, there really is no such thing as heroes; they're only a child's dreams of perfection that doesn't exist. And if you persist to believe it then the world will knock you down and tear you apart. " Arthur got angry at that. Of course there are!
'Merlin stopped in the crowd, eyes transfixed on the screen. Everything was starting to slip into place, and Arthur felt appalled.'
"The world is dark, and cold, and cruel. It will tear you to pieces in its sleep. It'll kick you while you're down, and it'll crush you with its boot. You are an ant."
That blonde hair... and... those eyes... are they... blue?
"They world has no sympathy for anyone who doesn't perfectly fit into its mold." Masquerade paused. "It'll tear children from their mothers. Family it'll shred without a care. God loves you children, BULLSHIT!"
Arthur froze, it couldn't be.
"We're all alone. This world was created for sentient beings to feel pain and murder. It is dark and it does not love you! This world is to far gone." Masquerade shook and whispered. "There is no one in this world who cares.
"I can't save it. There is absolutely nothing I or anyone else can do. If your so-called heroes can't save the world from it's self, then what good are they? This world was born broken, it grew broken, it stayed broken, and no one every came alone to fix it. Some tried. I TRIED. But there's nothing left to do, there's no way to fix it. If one of you disgusting pigs ever figures it out. Come tell me, maybe then Ill believe in heroes. Till then-" Bang.
The gunshot rang through the square, it vibrated in their eardrums and some new hero came on screen with a triumphant grin and a gun in hand.
The square erupted into noise, questions, confusion, chaos, and so, so much more.
Arthur sunk to his knees eyes wide in shock, and with trembles racing through his body.
Alfred.
After so long, that little boy from fifth grade that he'd only known for a week. A mere week! Yet he'd been so much, and changed so much. Damn it. Arthur realized. I'm crying like a little girl. But he couldn't care. He needed to cry and he did, in the middle of Times Square, in the middle of the crowd, Arthur sobbed the most heartfelt sob he'd let out in a long, long time.
"I'm so sorry Al, I'm so sorry I couldn't do for you what you did for me." Arthur mourned the lose of the friend he hadn't really had, and of all the time he could've spent with a boy who loved heroes. "I'm sorry I never was your friend."
So... tell me what you think. Was it horribly cliched? Or perhaps not?