After all I'd done.. all I'd aspired to be, all I wanted save...
I watched it all, crumble into smithereens. Nothing but dust and broken shards of rainbow colored delusions.
The despair in those baby blues, clouded with misery like a sudden rainstorm on an otherwise sunny day, speak only of defeat and sorrow. My brother, he really was my-
What have I done...?
I want to explain, I did not forsee this, not this time. I never wanted this!
The truth is that one mistake was all it took.
Everything. Is. Over.
The making of grand schemes and to watch them unravel perfectly, that is my life, that's what I am. I am the trickster...
Yet, the grandest plan of all seems to be unraveling every other good deed accomplished.
A way, there is always a way out!
Always...
'' I could've done it, father.''
A good trickster never reveal their secrets, but this one time, this one mistake... it has to be corrected it before it's too late. There has to be a way to make them force the reveal of what I know to be the right, no, the only possible cause of action.
''I could've done it, for you! For all of us!''
If only - Father?
Regret.
Disappointment.
Hatred.
...I am fatherless...
I am the mistake.
It's never to late to make things right.
And I did.
.
.
.
The abyss welcomed me.
Darkness. No sound no sight, just darkness. Pure comforting darkness.
A void is a perfect place for mistakes, just as trash belongs in the bin.
The next sensation is pain. Everywhere. Excrucating, burning pain.
If only that had been the end...
.
.
.
His back was broken; his armor bruised and tainted, but he was breathing, he was concious, he was ALIVE.
The first feeling to get to him is releif.
Utter and sheer releif.
The second is self-loathing, and the third regret.
He is alive...
It should be over. His pathetic existence should have ended. He never should have been in this world to begin with, so why? Why does he still want to live?!
He can't stop this will, just like he can't stop his magic from healing his broken bones and bruises.
All he has are his own twisted thoughts, his burning desire for life.
This will to live keeps him alive for days that turns into weeks...
For every moment he is trapped, unable to move, unable to stop the influence of his own powers, that hatred burrows deeper and then even deeper into his heart until he no longer remembers any other feeling. Until he no longer remembers anything at all; and so he hates himself, the universe and everything.
This is how Thanos finds him.
Pathetic, sad and fading.
… And way too good to leave be.
Every breath is hel. Every moment. Every thought. Everything, is, hel.
Through it all, this so called monster, this so called GOD, begs for mercy.
But it never ends. Never.
One day, the pain stops.
Everything stops.
No more feeling.
His will to live seems to give up and the trickster breaks.
That day is the day Thanos sends him his first victim.
At first he isn't sure what to do, this young thing, almost an infant.
Scaled and with great round eyes, it pleads for mercy in a never before heard tounge.
When he doesn't respond, it tries to graze his cheek with one of it's many talons and teeth in an attempt to scare him off.
His hatred remembers. It flares and licks and burns away the compassion he might have once had and he knows.
Once he knows; he KNOWS and with the promise of hel in the back of his mind he takes his first innocent life, without hesitation.
Then he takes his second and his third and keeps going until the blood of uncountable numbers has drenched not only his hands and body, but his very mind and soul.
Insanity even knocks on his door and he welcomes it with open arms.
His will to live wins.