Cracked windows part 10

Fear/ Good Villiany

Professor Venomous’ perspective

It came rushing in, all my soaked red reveries and nightmares. My memories of a former glory, a glimmer of greatness that I had carried in my POINT days as a hero, all sullied with the realization that even as a villain—no one wants anything to do with me now.

I see my son K.O., who has reached this dastardly and cruel new heights only because I pushed him to this horrible point. Before Shadowy Figure etched itself onto my subconscious and latched on like a leech, slinking it’s way into my heart and organs and emotions—crawling through my voice and my very breath, I had hope. Hope with Boxy. Hope that I had finally found something right—-the good type of villiany that felt good. It was something that was wrong yet so right, a feeling of bombastic, crazy delight that only came from attacking the plaza or creating a new bio design for one of Boxman’s kids, a petty sort of villiany that was as Boxman explained, “The classic sort of evil, a slow back and forth kind of villiany that didn’t wipe enemies off the map,” and I knew without even trying to look deep down he was absolutely right. And of course, knowing that Boxman was right, his words to me on the day of our break up rang true even more now:

“Hey, I’m a villian, not a monster.”

That hurts the worst. Knowing what I built with this man and the trust we had, the absolute fortitude we developed within our interpersonal structure—-we were absolutely a family. Boxman trusted me, with his business, his name, his brand, his whole life—his kids, everything. And I fucked it up. I had to pretend this was about being stronger. I had to test out my will and see what I could accomplish with more, instead of just being happy with the amazing life I had with Boxman and Fink and his kids. Our kids. But, I’m sure they hate me now for breaking their father’s heart.

Now that Shadowy and T.K.O have decimated the Neutral Zone and many other parts of town outside of that, the plaza being one of those first things that went, I wonder what will come of all of this amassed power we have attained. Even as we have combined egos, Shadowy hides his full plans from me like like secret documents with the most important dates and times and information blacked out.

And it’s not as if that after we win, Shadowy has plans to rebuild anything or recreate Lakewood Plaza Turbo. Or even… recreate Voxmore.

I realize as these dark flooding reveries and nightmares creep into my brain, I feel a sense of increasing anxiety drip from my throat into my stomach. I can’t even imagine sleeping. Dreams feel like death to me. The real reason I am anxious is because I know in so many ways, this fear I am exuding is a mask. I fear that my humanity has been lost, and I will never be me in a real physical sense ever again.

Now, all I can remember is always feeling stuck. Stuck as a hero, not feeling strong enough, stuck as a villian, not feeling challenged enough.

But, I do know how it feels when you’re unstuck—-and the only word that comes up like the most flamboyant and colorful balloon in my mind’s eye: Boxman. My savior, my heart, my partner, my best friend, my absolute dark, crazy, fun lover whom I’d do anything for. I never got to tell him exactly how he made me feel, but I hope one day my actions will let him know for sure.

Even if that means saving the world.

I look at my son destroying every single opponent that comes his way and I feel myself breaking. That blood red screen Shadowy affixed onto my vision and nerves is finally severing. It hits in bubbling waves where the pressure is less and less intense but still maddening, and my ears are leaking clear fluid again.

Finally I feel my muscles. They hurt. They feel raw. My arms feel tense and stuck in a locked position. I close my eyes and feel the pain seethe throughout my tired bones. My son is about to attack Enid and Rad, and though his friends are turbonized, and much stronger, there’s no way they can beat my son.

I feel a heavy lift off my chest and I breathe in. I get the sensation that I might be able to speak freely, so I yell, “K.O.!”

Everyone pauses in shock in the arena and looks at me.

My son looks at me. I remembered before Shadowy hit and messed up my life, how I really wanted to bond with him. Now, we have one of the worst father son relationships I could ever imagine. Toxic and full of anger.

“My name is T.K—” my son starts to angrily rebuttal.

I swiftly fly over to him and give him a pained look. Somehow, it reaches him. His eyes soften a bit but he still scowls.

“Your name isn’t T.K.O,” I say in the most direct way, leaning in so we can see each other eye to eye.

His face, once so joyful and kind and helpful, looks distorted and dark and tired.

“Shut up,” he growls.

“Don’t talk that way. What will your mother say?” I say.

Everyone is watching with a painful attention and I look over at them all in a ferocity and tell my son to follow me. This wasn’t their business.

“My mother isn’t here,” My son says, rubbing his eye as he follows me. “I have to finish the tournament.”

“No. No more tournament. No more glorbs. No more shut up and no more bull crap.” I sigh and he gives me an arrogant grin.

“Ah, now you wanna play the concerned father role. Too late, pops!” He sticks his tongue out. “You brought me here. You’re the one who wanted me this way!”

I hack a deep, disturbing cough, and almost feel something deep down my throat come up. “No… K.O…. I need you to understand.. this was not me… or us…” I look deep into his brown eyes and feel a quaver in his own resolve. “Or you.”

He scoffs loudly. Now that we’re far away from prying eyes, we can talk. I knew that Shadowy was going try again to get through to me, this time to knock me out so good I’ll never be able to do this again, not with K.O., Fink, Raymond, Darrel, Shannon, Mikayla, Jethro——-and——

Boxy.

I had to give it more than I ever had. Like my life depended on it.

“K.O., I don’t know how much time I have, if it’s going to last,” I place my hands down on his stiff shoulders. I really take a solid look at my son. I know just behind that veneer of darkness, that aura Shadowy conjured up, a phantasmagoria of real and imagined madness and pumped up fear and anger, is the real K.O. “But, remember… when you and I were just started to hang out? At Voxmore? Just you and I? Before this whole mess, I really believed that you and I could have… could be something nice. A good father son dynamic,” I cough again, this time, it’s a violent cough and something black comes up.

“You… you okay?” My son asks, his eyes looking a bit worried but also impatient.

I put my hand up and nod. “Fine. I’m fine. Look, K.O., you are not this person. You aren’t a monster. You don’t break every bone in your friend’s body and then proceed to hurt your mom.” He looks up at me in a bewildered way and I sigh. Suddenly, I move in and hug him. But not just a hug. The most important, earnest, likely more life saving kind of hug.

It lasts for minutes, but it feels like forever in a day to me to hold my son this way. So much I missed out on. So many memories with this boy, being with father, being there for him.

Instead, all I’ve done is caused him pain and destruction.

“K.O, please, go back to your mother, go back home. Don’t do this to yourself anymore,” I say softly, “You were always strong. More than enough. This was something I hadn’t learned for myself and now, I took my first born son down to these disturbing lengths to get power with me,” I gently move out of the embrace to look at him in the face but he latches onto me tighter. “I beg you to not make the same mistakes I did.”

“But, you’re a villian still, aren’t you? You’ll still be one even… even after this is over?” He says quietly. His features have started calming down. His face is relaxing and his breathing is not sporadic and angry. He is starting to feel like himself, I can see it on his face. It makes me smile.

I nod, moving my hair up to smooth it down and sighing. “Yes, I will. But I’ll be a good villian. Someone taught me these ways. Someone very important to me, too.”

He nods in a quiet understanding and we hug again, father and son finally eye to eye, understanding that our estrangement can be unlocked. We just needed to first unlock ourselves.