AN: Little AU One shot with Hyperia and Stella, warming for suicide and violence!
Hate. Anger. Fear. Destruction. All the markings of a dictator, drunk on the power they warped and stole. No matter what people tell themselves, power cannot be controlled. It can grow and twist, hollowing out whoever tries to tame it from the inside. This all may seem melodramatic, extremely exaggerated. But I've seen it happening, day by day, seeing the light fade from the person's eyes as they lose themselves. I saw the change in my best friend.
Stella Knight and Hyperia Von Hades, the dream team. At least that's what we'd said for years.
Working in the military is difficult, full of gruelling work and physical activity. The psychological effects are a whole different can of worms.
Immerse yourself, if you will, into the plains of a dust coated battlefield. Sweat dripping down your neck as you're layered in protective clothing, weapons weighing down your back and hands. Friends and colleagues scattered at your sides as you advance into unknown territory, crumbling buildings surrounding you. Now imagine an explosive going off, ears ringing, head pounding, balance ripped from beneath you. Grime, dirt, blood everywhere as you weakly blink and try to fumble away. Think about what it could do to a person to see their friends' still corpses, a whole street destroyed in a single hit. Men, women and children left dead. Innocent men, women and children.
Just think to yourself, you have to witness these diabolical things and then just return to civilisation, where the blissfully ignorant reside. People congratulating you and celebrating with happy smiles, yet not knowing the sacrifices that were made to result in your return. So many different media platforms have tried, some far more successful than others, to explain the torments. But in the end it doesn't matter how many books you read, or films you watch, unless you've experienced it first hand, you don't know the true side effects. You don't wake up in the middle of the night hearing gunfire, nor do you jump and drop to the ground at a noise that's slightly too loud, images of bombs and destruction filling your mind.
Once Hyper and I returned, the change in her was evident. It was the power taking its hold. This however, was far more twisted than the power that comes with promotions or large roles at work. This power was bleak, and sinister. Hyperia was being consumed with the knowledge of the truth. The knowledge of state secrets, deep cover plans and army cover-ups. As the minutes ticked by, this contorted version of strength and superiority began to eat away at her. First it was little things, correcting people on tiny mistakes, missing girls' nights with flimsy excuses, working extremely late. Then it got worse. It got to the point where she wouldn't leave her home or talk to anyone unless they were connected to the army, and work. She thought she was so important, and wise that she had the right to talk down to people, towards the end, even me.
It all got too much. For her and for me. Then I got the phone call. Dead. . There was note, to me, talking about how it all became too much, the weight of the lies and problems crushing her. She was in a better place, I was upset, but I couldn't help but feel that she had done it to herself. Whilst power may take control after a certain point, the person it consumes has and always will be in instigator. For without the instigator, power itself would be meaningless and have no control. It is only as strong as you allow it to be. Power is a synonym for corruption, desperation and loss. Power is dark, and quiet. Most of all, power is lonely.