I Can Change (no, really!)

Prologue

clack

clack

clack

The sound of black heels echoed through the long tunnel of hallway.

The fluorescent lights engulfed the white ceiling with its brightness, illuminating the 3 story building up. Clients outside were frozen on the spot, taking in the sight of the brown-haired man walking at the center of it. As the man continued to walk, the only movements they could make were them backing away as far as possible when the man gets too close to them, as if to give the man space to continue heading into what seemed to be the unknown.

Their gaze on him were stuck like a super glue, and multiple heads turned with every steps the man had made, due to the continuous noise of the heel on the man's shoes.

The man turned to a corner, and the nearby clients quickly snapped their head at the incoming figure. The chatters instantly died down, and they could only do nothing but move away as the man continued silently terrorizing the people inside the building.

A boy, no older than 16, did not notice the man behind his back walking towards his way, thus, bumping into the man.

"Ow, watch where you're go-" The boy quickly cut off his words as soon as he turned to the man he bumped into. He gazed into the irritated eyes of the older man, and his stomach dropped. Face paling, the boy quickly moved out of the way for the other, while stuttering a string of incomprehensible apologies that no one seemed to understand. The young man looked like he was about to urinate himself in pure fear as his whole face produced sweat. He wanted nothing more than to die on the spot, knowing that it was probably better than what the other was planning to do to him.

But the brown-haired man just ignored him, continuously walking, and leaving the scared boy alone. After what seemed to be forever, the man stopped at the front door of a room he randomly picked himself.

It was labeled as room 302.

Turning on his back, the man saw everyone look away from him, and they quickly ran away as fast as they can. But the mob of clients couldn't get very far, before they froze on their spot once more, involuntarily this time. They tried to move, only to realise that they were fully surrounded by metallic, artificial eyes. All of them could only stare at the floating devices, unable to even utter any sort of words.

It was the infamous gadget that the man was known for, and he just used it on them.

They were done for.

At least, that's what they all thought. But as few seconds passed, the man didn't seem to do anything, and instead just looked back on the door in front of him.

Slowly opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of two people talking. They looked at the door, confused, before processing the fact that he was the one standing on the doorway. The guy, who looked like a client, looked petrified like he couldn't believe what was happening. The brown-haired man cocked his head to right where the door was positioned, as if telling the guy to scram. And the client did bolt out of the room, but not without tripping all the way through the door.

He sat down to where the client was before, and faced a man who looked in his twenties with unruly black hair, and a pair of grey, rectangle glasses. The therapist was alarmed, and his expression told him that he was definitely not expecting someone like him to suddenly barge into the room.

"Why ar-" "-How to be better?" The brown-haired man cut off the other before he could finish his sentence. The latter was flabbergasted, as if he didn't expect for the other to actually talk. It was as if they were waiting for each other to speak first, no one uttered a sentence

A minute passed, and they both just stared at each other.

"... What?" The man in the glasses asked skeptically, eyes narrowed, breaking the silence.

The other just sighed, and rolled his eyes. "I said, how do you become better?" He asked again, his voice dripping with annoyance as he crossed his arms and looked away, pretending that the silver painted walls were more interesting.

The black-haired man still looked suspicious. "What do you mean by 'become better'?"

"God, are you a broken record or something, or can you just not comprehend such simple words that you need me to explain it to you? I meant get better, like how to do good with this town, or how to help the 'people in need', blah blah blah." The man replied, irritated as he air quoted.

The room was filled with uncomfortable silence.

"... aren't you a villain?"

The villain's eye twitched, "Well, that's why I'm here right now and asking you, aren't I?" He crossed his legs, impatient. He took in the sight of the paintings that covered the walls, and the encouraging words posted beside them. He looked around anything and everything, but the man in front of him.

"So, aren't you going to do your thing? What do people do in this room? I don't have all day." He tried to keep the conversation going, but it was futile.

A few more minutes passed.

"Is this some kind of a trick?" The other finally asked after what seemed to be forever, "What kind of schemes are you planning right now?"

The villain stared at the therapist. The therapist stared back.

Tick, tock, tick, tock

"Your clock is pissing me off right now." The villain verbalised.

The therapist drummed his fingers on the arm chair, ignoring the other's comment, and continued staring at him with narrowed eyes, as if waiting for an answer to his previous question. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

"Even if I had a plan, do you really think I'll tell you about them?" The villain spoke again.

The other didn't answer, and the restricting silence engulfed the whole room once again.

"Is this part of the session?"

****

THIS STORY IS IN PROGRESS, AND CHAPTERS HAVEN'T BEEN WRITTEN YET.

I MIGHT EITHER POST ONCE I HAVE ATLEAST A FEW CHAPTERS, OR FINISH THE WHOLE STORY BEFORE POSTING EVERYTHING.