Sibling Rivalry
This was an unexpected turn of events, even for Alan himself.
He didn't always come to visit Black Hat. Sometimes he just wandered around, looking at the Villainous world and deciding to add this or that to its history. A bit more background to certain secondary characters, or to specific cities. A few easter eggs here and there for the fans to notice and hopefully make them squeal.
It was rare for the characters to recognize him as the show's creator. Most simply stepped around him, subconsciously giving him space to look and do what he needed to. Thus, he was mildly surprised when Black Hot — Demencia's muscular clone of his son — reacted to his presence when they crossed paths.
The huge character had not only noticed him but grinned like one would when hitting the jackpot, and flexed to activate his otherworldly power, effectively whisking Alan away from the streets and into a familiar room filled with gym equipment.
Black Hot — Heh. The name play will always amuse him — entered the room via crashing from a wall instead of using the actual door, apparently pleased with this turn of events.
"You're the one!" Black Hot grinned while lifting a particularly large weight one-handed, the other pointing at him dramatically. Where did that come from, Alan wasn't sure. "With you here, he will definitely come to me!"
Aaaah, so that was it.
The clone's main motivation. Alan had added that little piece to Black Hot's "tragic" background story because, well, it was funny. But the poor guy was Demencia's dreamy version of his son, so his powers were weak in comparison to the original.
Demencia had no way of knowing all of Black Hat's powers, particularly because not even Alan knew them. He normally just added what needed to be added to his son's ever-growing list of abilities as the show progressed.
Any sort of confrontation between a clone and the original would end just as one-sidedly as with any other character. It wasn't meant to happen. Not now, if ever.
"Not really? Sorry, but Black Hat doesn't even know I'm here." And Alan would like to keep it that way, if possible.
Black Hat wasn't aware of his visits to the world at large, mainly because The VillainTM disliked not being the center of attention. At least when it came to his visits anyway. That one time Alan had been whisked away by Demencia before he could reach the main office was a small disaster— a grumpy Black Hat was a very murderous one, it had taken quite some bribery and concessions for the eldritch to calm down.
"He does not?" Black Hot hummed while making another pose. "Then I'll just have to show him!"
"Show him…? Ay no. ¿Por qué?" Alan slipped when he noticed the polaroid camera permanently imbedded into the wall, the cracking concrete showing that it was forcefully added just like some of the weights were. Why use a drill when one could just crash it in?
Black Hot flexed for the picture, while Alan just remained standing with a yaaa valió expression on his face.
The clone was apparently unsatisfied with it.
"Too boring! Come on, something more like this!" The muscular demon demanded, showing a series of moves; each pose more complicated than the one prior.
"Uh. I don't think I can?" Alan admitted, looking mildly amused at the way Black Hot was now supporting his whole weight with his index finger. A DBZ reference would be a good addition for the show, he thought approvingly.
This is what he loved of his visits. The places, the characters, the series just… sometimes wrote itself.
Black Hot scoffed at Alan's apparent inability of doing cartoonish things, making a few push-ups with his index finger before suddenly jumping to straighten up again.
"Then I'll just be more perfect to make up for your lacking self." The muscular clone decided one-sidedly, and Alan found himself suddenly sitting on a huge tricep as the demon flexed both arms up.
"Pero qué—?" Alan flapped his arms in an attempt to keep his balance, caught off ward by the action. Black Hat hated most sorts of non-murdery physical touch — except handshakes and other small courtesies that got him souls — so why would a clone casually initiate it?
Wait, no, wasn't that part of this specific character? Back then, Demencia had needed to be able to hug the replica without being yeeted into the stratosphere. Thus, Black Hot was probably more neutral on the whole touch-thing than the original would ever be.
"Sit properly! Flex for the picture, just like me!" The eldritch demanded again, keeping the same easy pose with both arms flexing upwards. Accepting he wouldn't get out of it, Alan inwardly shrugged and imitated the posture.
A flash, and the first printed picture the muscular clone seemed to be satisfied with.
The arm dropped, and Alan fell on his ass with a small Ouph. Black Hot was already making another easy-to-replicate position.
"Just like me, come on!" The tall demon urged.
"Eh? Ah, uh, like this?"
"Exactly!"
Another flash, another photo automatically printed. It was followed by yet another pose, and Alan trying to imitate it as best he could.
Apparently, Black Hot had already forgotten about the original purpose of taking a picture — to show Black Hat that Alan was here — and had turned this into a photoshoot of sorts. Alan had no complaints, since it meant keeping his son in the dark (heh) of his world-wide visits.
They kept at it for quite some time. It was fun, but this probably would never end unless he did something about it.
"So, uh, any requests you have for me?" Alan asked as he lowered his body for a sit up, maintaining the position long enough for the camera to flash, trying to stop his legs from shaking too much. His condition was nowhere near the one of this gym-obsessed villain.
"What requests?" Black Hot asked back, finally halting. Alan took advantage of the pause to drop down on the floor, already tired.
"Yeah… like, more equipment. Or a particular design for a room or building…. That sort of thing."
Black Hot somehow managed to make a pensive pose while flexing. It was exhausting to watch.
"Unending body lotion. Having to acquire those individual packages is tiresome!"
"Yeah, I can do that," Alan exhaled with relief, slowly standing up, "actually, let me go do that before I forget."
He took a couple of steps towards the exit, before a huge arm wrapped around his shoulders to drag him further inside the room. Even with his internal reasoning, Alan was still surprised to be on the receiving end of willing physical touch — that wasn't murderous or soul snatching — from one that was supposed to be Black Hat's copy.
"Make a note before you leave! It doesn't matter if you're no longer here, so long he comes to Moi ~ "
So he hadn't forgotten? Me lleva la chancla!
"Ah. Um, yeah, about that—"
"Tell him is urgent—"
"No, wait, really—"
"—so he can immediately come to admire my perfection!" Validation. He had made validation Black Hot's main motivation because it was funny.
He could work with that.
"You… you know who I am, right?"
"The one." Black Hot answered without looking at him, summoning a weight to his extended hand just like Thor would his hammer. Nice.
"Yeah." Alan decided to roll with it. "You know, I'm kinda happy I ran into you today. This is fun, you're really perfect just the way you are."
"But of course!" The huge demon accepted with another pose, unconsciously puffing up at the praise.
The clone's ego was just as high as the original's, accepting all praise like it was obvious, like there was no other possible answer… but it was somehow mixed up with a small need for external validation all the same. How this character managed to be so self-assured but still a teensy bit insecure was really something else.
"Just how you're meant to be," Alan added sincerely, taking a pen and starting to make a quick doodle, "and nothing anyone says can change that."
There was no immediate reply, nor movement. The clone froze in place for a long moment, and Alan gave him space and focused on his drawing, as if oblivious to the change.
He finished the Black Hot sketch without interruption. Alan smiled at the palm-sized sticky note, signed it at the corner, and gave it to the stupefied demon along with a couple of friendly pats at a massive bicep.
"Spending time with you was nice. I'll drop by again sometim— ough!" An arm was around his shoulders again, this time not unlike a headlock used for wrestling.
"That's right! Am I not The BestTM?! Why, anyone that is blessed enough to look at me—" Alan blinked incredulously at the self-absorbed monologue. How did the guy pass from wanting Black Hat's validation to basking in Alan's?
He needed a distraction, just for long enough to step away.
"—should be eternally thankful for being lucky enough to be in my presence—"
What could distract him other than Black Hat?
"—to even gaze upon my perfect being—" Another flex, which had the unwanted side-effect of dragging Alan closer until he was uncomfortably pressed against a hip. He was starting to feel grateful Black Hat disliked physical touch. It was the better alternative, really, even if his goodbye hugs never lasted.
"—and bask as anyone should—"
"6.0.6. is back." Alan noted, looking at the unmoving cactus in the corner of the room with a relieved, grateful sigh.
"Great!" Black Hot exclaimed, finally freeing him from the headlock. "The infiltration was a success!"
And Alan's escape was too. He had never run away so fast in his life.
(x)
Black Hat was beyond pissed.
Pacing behind the desk while muttering gurgling curses, the demon's form was shifting endlessly in such a horrible way that any sane person would have died of fright just by witnessing it.
Alan looked at his grumpy son, and then at the numerous photos spread over the large desk with no small amount of mortification. They showed him and Black Hot flex-posing. He had kind of hoped those pictures would never see the sunlight, ever.
"Um—"
"Silencio!" Black Hat interrupted with a demonic screech; extended claws raised to the ceiling. The eldritch still refused to turn to look at him— well, not with the main set of eyes at least. The ones that had popped up from the tendrils in his body had been staring at Alan for quite a while now.
With an internal sigh, he nodded in understanding and focused on the pictures, keeping silent so the annoyed demon could cool down a bit.
They all were equally embarrassing, but looking back at that day Alan couldn't help but feel fondness too. The muscular clone was funny, in his own way. Watching the photos again, he picked the one where he was sitting on a massive arm with a shocked face, arms flapping like a bird to keep his balance.
The picture burned to crisps in his fingers.
"STOP SMILING LIKE AN IDIOT!"
"What?"
"SHUSH!" Huh, the multiple set of mouths had petite metallic saws mixed in. They looked sharper than usual.
"Son—"
Black Hat hissed irritably, resuming his endless pacing, now with shadowy-tendrils dancing all over the naturally dark room. Some looked like claws, others more like tentacles, and the ones closest to the walls had small grudgeful eyes fixated on him.
The level of drama.
"Mijo, I need to visit the cities too, it's part of the world-building—"
"I'm aware of that!" Black Hat growled, and Alan was acutely reminded of the "I SEE ALL" message his son had left for the mens without hats. Of course the demon had been aware of his visits all along. "I couldn't care less!"
"…you don't?"
A warning growl, the darkness of the room growing more oppressive. Alan wasn't particularly impressed by it, although having shadow tendrils curl around his ankles was certainly new. They weren't tight at all, so they weren't meant to restrict his movements, but he couldn't think of another reason to have them there.
"Alright, that was silly of me. Then you're bothered by…"
He left the sentence open, expecting a reply. Black Hat's form shifted until he was no longer a bipedal being, now more like a screaming mass of tormented souls perpetually melting all over the floor. Yet another tantrum.
Alan rolled his eyes and decided to ignore him, focusing on the pictures over the desk once more.
...huh.
There was a particular photo that was punctured and wrinkled, like Black Hat had grown claws when grabbing it. Was this picture the cause for this little mess? Picking it up, he noticed this was the only one that didn't feature him, nor the muscular clone.
It was a photo of the sticky note Alan had doodled on, the drawing showing him sitting on Black Hot's shoulder, both smiling evilly in a cartoonish manner, with both set of arms flexing upwards.
The shadows curling around his ankles gave him a soft squeeze, traveling a bit upwards to cover his calves. He could feel another set travel from the shoulder down his dominant arm with snake-like movements, coiling harmlessly around the wrist.
Black Hat hated most sorts of physical contact, but he had no issues with it if he used his demonic powers.
Alan gave a soft, understanding hum.
"Can you give me a blank piece of paper?"
The screaming mass of bodies fell silent. His dramatic son refused to retake his humanoid form quite yet, but one of the claw-like shadows opened the desk's top drawer and gave him a clean sheet.
"Thanks." Alan said sincerely, taking Black Hat's fancy pen to start his drawing. He had sketched the villain so many times over the years, he could do so almost flawlessly on the spot without having to draft him first. He had a bit more troubles when adding himself, but it still came out pretty decently. Satisfied, he placed his trademark signature at the corner.
A picture of him and his villainous son, laughing evilly at something off-screen. He had given himself a top hat with a question mark in it, feeling oddly nostalgic.
Alan received a grateful squeeze from the darkness around him, the closest thing to a willing hug he would ever get from his Telenovela-level-of-dramatic creation.
"Barely decent." Black Hat criticized the drawing even as he carefully took it, a bit too slowly with both gloved hands, as if afraid to damage it. "I don't look like that."
Looking up from the drawing to meet his gaze, Alan could picture the "He doesn't" newspaper in his mind, just over Black Hat's shoulder. He couldn't help but laugh heartedly.
The room suddenly wasn't as dark anymore, even if the shadow tendrils on his person stayed.
"My bad, my bad. I'll give you a colorful one on my next visit."
"Make sure you do." The eldritch grumbled softly, safe-keeping the paper in his desk's drawer.
"Maybe even a portrait?"
Black Hat gave him a wide, toothy grin. "With skulls at our feet, and hell brewing just behind—"
Alan nodded, mentally taking notes as the demon continued to provide further details. He wasn't taking commissions, but he would make an exception just for him. It was a small sacrifice to help keep the sibling-like jealously at bay.
AN:
In my head Black Hat has the patience of a toddler, and the emotional awareness of one too. Like, of course he's angry (he is most of the time) but he's no good at properly communicating the reason or how to remedy it (but it's always the other's fault, so fix it!)
I hadn't planned on more chapters, but I woke up at 5am with the idea that just wouldn't leave, so here you go xD
Internal