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The rain filed down from the sky. He lifted both of his hands, feeling the droplets bounce off of his soft scales and hard armor. He looked up to the sky, only to see the plane following him…
The plane that was always there, every time he looked up.
The plane, the dark orange flag waving behind it, rich blue in the corners, a reminder of what he had done.
He turned around and walked away, back to the urban infrastructure. There, he could hide from the plane.
But there was a price to pay.
Shelters did not exist for free.
His cruelty had not been fully rolled out. It couldn't have been. He couldn't have kept it up. He hadn't wanted to in the first place.
Did he feel this regret only because of the change of tides? Did he feel sorry for himself or for the people he had hurt? Was this just a selfish ploy?
He walked through the grand buildings, little color around him. There was no color on this planet. No color in their hearts, in their system, in their lives. Only the great blue banner brought radiant equality. Everyone called them self-centered and foolish, but they ruled the universe with pleasure and peace, not knowing they were the rulers in the first place.
Why couldn't they have done that?
Now he walked these terrible streets where great men had once marched and lined up with glory.
And he paid the price for being one of those men…
And ceasing to be one of those men.
He was desolate, inconsistent. He didn't stay true to his morals. People didn't like that. They hated it more than hatred. While everyone could rejoice in the change, hiding their still-active cruelty, he had to take the burden of the many. Only him.
Life was misery.
When he walked inside, the rain didn't stop. The eyes were like the plane, but a different side, and the air was carrying the light. The light was the rain.
Even deep in the heart of gray, he could not escape his guilt.
He was an alien in every room. And a monster in many. What was a monster without society?
He went home.
There was no one there.
Him, on the ocean.
With no one to put and in the sentence with.
They had not died, but they had left.
He supposed that said something about him.
He caught his reflection staring at him. Was it him? He had forgotten who he was in his isolation. He didn't look real. His armor was there— his shining armor. What did he stand for now? It certainly wasn't glory for his home anymore. They had forgotten glory.
He didn't want to be in his home. On this planet. This ocean.
There was much less gray from afar.
And the blue banner…
Why did he have to care about the blue banner? He hated the blue banner. He hated the orange banner. They were together. How could he like one, but not the other?
Why did he hate the orange banner?
Why did he hate the blue banner?
Guilt and envy.
He left.
The rain fell on him again, and he didn't bother to look up at the plane. He knew it would be there. He wanted to burn that flag. Shoot down the plane. But that's what he used to do. He wasn't allowed to that anymore.
What was he saying?
It didn't deserve to be shot down in the first place.
He was a traitor.
On both sides.
The silver gleamed in the moonlight, not wet by the rain, but by the dark blood.
He wondered if everyone on this planet would bleed when cut.
Probably not.
How could they have let this happen? Let these infiltrators run their home? Just because they didn't like the orange and blue? They would just settle for another ruler? He hated it.
He got in. Even the circuitboards were lifeless.
The clouds disappeared. The gray replaced with black. Black, that hid within it, the great colors of life. So obscure. So detailed. And they had planned to spread their hateful gray across it. How foolish. The beacons of equality were not foolish, they were wise. Only greedy, hateful people called them foolish. Because they were jealous. Because they didn't understand. Why couldn't they have been wise?
What were they supposed to do with what life had given them? How could they blamed? It was only their instincts. They had learned better. They regretted it.
Did they?
They had made the world of faith stronger. They were not just weak faith now, weak faith that would have died out had anyone dared to invade them.
They hadn't invaded them, they had just helped.
He saw the plane on the viewscreen.
He sped through the stars.
He wouldn't see the plane anymore.
It seemed that he could not do anything to escape the guilt.
The silver was still wet.
Maybe it should have been wetter.
Maybe the armor shouldn't cover his chest.
Maybe the…
It would be easy.
It would be better.
No one would find him.
No one would care to find him.
He had nothing to live for.
There was nothing in the galaxy that would make him feel happy.
No one would forgive him or even offer him a chance.
He had done too much bad.
He had to do something good.
The blade was on the console. The armor was coming off. Everything was blurry. The hum of the ship was the only thing he could hear. They wouldn't find him. They wouldn't.
The blade was in his hand. The armor was on the floor. The hum of the ship had gone away. The only thing he could see was that silver…
The ship suddenly shook. The silver went flying.
He growled, screamed, stood up, hit the console with all of his fury.
Someone was looking at him.
Someone was saying his name.
His name.
He looked at the person.
The colorful man.
He went to turn the screen off. He couldn't take this. But he stopped. Where was he?
He looked at the viewscreen.
That horrible structure.
He wasn't here, was he?
He must have altered course by accident.
He looked at the person. Told them it was a mistake.
Someone else spoke up. She had that dark orange, that plane that always followed him around.
She denied that he had made a mistake.
He angrily ended the transmission.
They, of course, wouldn't trust him. They never did.
He knew they were pulling him in. He couldn't talk to anyone right now. He put up the defenses and tried to pull away. He couldn't. He gave up. The armor was still off. The silver…
The silver was right there.
He picked it up. Locked the doors with the highest security. Held it up to himself.
He shoved it into his chest.
It was surprising. It was sharp. But it didn't hurt. He felt nothing. Nothing besides, at last, freedom and happiness.