Chapter Text
You are the golden god that glistens in the sun.
The sun rises, but it also sets.
Who does the sun set for, Sentry?
Who does it rise for?
Can't you feel the sunshine on your back, Sentry? As you take your daily jog across the city, you can feel the concrete radiate the stifling heat on your face. Yes, you are sweating, but the smiling face you pass by negates that. It makes you forget the things that gnaw at your soul.
It makes you forget the reality of the infinite darkness that encapsulates others while the sun shines for you.
It makes you forget that while you are present as the face of hope and humanity to others, there is a reality of those who are suffering that very moment you are idling, doing nothing for them.
You are missing those in the world who need your help, Sentry.
What are you doing, Sentry?
Take a look at yourself.
You look like a fool, hopping around on your feet.
We both know you don't need to exercise on 12 West 31st Street.
We both know you're better than signing that young girl's stupid Sentry poster.
God, you hate that photo. We both know you loved it the first few days Peter gave the very first photograph of the Sentry to the Bugle. But after a week or two, that very photo became your face everywhere, your only representation other than silly cartoon memorabilia. Mugs, books, hell, you even saw your face as a sticker on a laptop one time. You felt proud of it, you aspired many, children and adults alike.
But there is something that only the both of us know; the fact you had to keep up this heroic... guise for the public and media was more than exhausting. When you were done for the day, you would go back to the watchtower, coffee in hand, and have restless nights staring at black-and-white CCTV cameras. Still, we both know you weren't taking those sleepless nights just to watch over the city , no, you were taking those sleepless nights because something was eating you away.
Something, or someone?
Do you still even remember who I am, Sentry?
It's hard to forget, yourself.
It's hard to forget yourself.
It seems that you stopped jogging, now slowing yourself at a walking pace. You wave at the girl and walk the opposite direction, as if you want to talk privately to someone as you walk with them.
I know you can hear me now. It's as if you slowed down just so you can listen to what I have to say without the wind blowing in your ears. Still, you simply refuse to acknowledge my presence in some mystifying way.
Do you remember who I am?
Do you like to pretend that you and I are not the same?
Do you like to keep it that way? It won't last forever. It doesn't make you feel any better, and we both know that.
You wish to hide everything from me, but the truth is, I know everything you think.
I know everything you feel.
Every memory.
Every fear.
Every emotion.
I am the only one that understands how you truly feel, Sentry. They never and will never understand the demons you fight, Sentry. The nightmare you try to keep at bay. The monster that you want to shove deep, deep, down in the darkness. There is something I cannot seem to grasp: why won't you embrace who you truly are, Sentry? Why won't you? Nobody can help you, you cannot help yourself.
Now there is a lingering silence between us, as if the weight of my words truly hold a meaning to you. That, or, you are tired of my pestering. Nonetheless, you push past, and instead of striding in the direction of the watchtower, you turn your heel to the Baxter building.
I almost want to laugh.
Nobody truly cares, they do not understand.
No one can understand that the golden god they idolize is one the same as the storm that is coming.