Chapter Text
The toes of white rimmed sneakers adorned with the faded markings of penmanship over the years grazed uncaringly over the sterile gray floor that was Rocket Corp.
Really and truly, Second was naive.
Naive to believe a man broken by years of torture would ever see reason, the undeniable truth that he was Victim’s little brother, and deserved to be treated.
The paleness of his skin and the blood pooling into dark spots under his clothes were his greatest testament to that chastity.
The mind of an artist never stops working, it is both their greatest asset and largest weakness. So Second pocketed the food for thought in the back of his mind, of whether at this moment he was still an artist.
Yes, it’s unsurprisingly difficult to think, much less breathe in a near oxygenless tank, and it’s equally unsurprisingly degrading when your captors are fully equipped for the elements. Silver-sheened protective bodysuits with imperceptible face shields, and the ever present, clean cut rocket icon just above where their foreheads likely were.
And wholly defenseless was he. His greatest tool, mightier than the sword, taken out from his hands by storm cloud gray carbon copies of each other, of which they were no more than perhaps the spare, tainted ink Victim long wished to twist a knife into and carve out his belialed body.
But Second didn’t think his brother’s unusual muted color was so horrible to look at…
Perhaps when this was all over, he could offer the man a watermelon cooler, freshly made in the pixeled realm of Minecraft.
Yes… when this was over.
Because this could not endure forever, yes..?
Right… because good does prevail in the end, does it not?
And Second’s good. He’s always been.
Never mind the explosive temper he has, an amber-lustered mirror of his equally explosive predecessors, the terrorists he shared blood with.
Never mind the force the Corp workers threw him down against the center of the tank with, of which Second’s otherworldly empathy could translate as a hatred that long preceded him.
Never mind the drool that glazed his chin, the sweat that glistened on his forehead, and the rosy sky that replaced clouds of white behind his irises.
No no.. Second was a good person.
And, even if just for a little, good people might endure the most unfair circumstances… but surely,
surely Victim would not let this endure for long.
Surely.
He won’t.
Yes?