CyberAttack

18. ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

(Third Person POV)

The night seemed to be passing so slowly, so incredibly slow, especially in a cell with nothing to do in it. Second would lay on the floor of his cell. Restless, and yet, angry. Angry with _nala, and himself.

'Why did I do this? Alan's probably worried sick about me. I should've listened. No, why is HE even doing this?'

He looked out at the Other Chosen, standing in front of the black bars, arms behind his back, guarding the cell like anything would be able to break in and save Second from what was going to happen tomorrow. Second crossed his arms and sat up against the wall. It felt awkward with him just standing there.

"Why are you still there?"

"Because I need to make sure you don't escape or anything"

"It's not like I'm gonna try anyways."

"I know, we just need to be sure."

"Riight.."

Second clicked his tongue in boredom.

"So uhm.. why are you guys even doing all of this in the first place, especially for that many years? Seems a bit excessive don't you think?"

"Not to me. This is what he wants to do, I see it as just settling the score."

"I don't know, settling a score against literal stick figures seems really unnecessary for a real life person."

"The reason doesn't involve the Resistance. They're just annoyances."

"So what's the reason?"

"That's private information."

"Come onnn.. If we're just going to sit here I'd rather not sit in silence."

"I'd rather we would."

"Every villain's got an origin, and I've got nothing else to do except bug you."

Chosen turned around.

"Do not call him that."

"Well, what else do I call him? That's what he is."

Chosen clenched his fists.

"If I tell you,"

He looked at him with a scowl.

"..will you shut up?"

"Sure."

He sighed and sat down in front of the cell. It took him a second to start talking, but he did.

"About 13 or 14 years ago, this world was very different. I was drawn the second of three stick figures. I was scared at first, but I quickly became friends with the two others, and Alan, which drew us all to keep him company since his closest friend had disappeared after he left high school. And well,"

Chosen let a small smile creep onto his face.

"..that we did. Every day when Alan came back to his apartment from college, he'd talk to us all day. We helped with homework, chatted, spent time together, drew together, but the times I remember the most were the days where he would come home in a bad mood. Sad, crying, stressed. The first people he went to vent to was us. After we talked, he'd always wipe his tears and smile at us, and spend the rest of the day with us. Those were the 2 golden years of my life. One particular afternoon he came home sad. He had to deal with people who had nothing better to do but pick on him. Of course, we helped him out by talking, and he felt better afterwards. The next morning, he left for school and.. well, he didn't come back."