Unwanted Colour

Chapter 1 Remake: Unwanted

Intro Music/Theme:

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Third Pov.

A lone Inkling walked casually through the city's alleyways at night, avoiding Inkling and Octolings. It's been years since he's been born into this world, yet he still lives in a world that hates him. For the colour, he connects change and the monster he holds within. He has pure white Ink hair, and his (Y/c) eyes, his (h/g), (b/g), and (s/g) seem strange choices of freshness. But it's the best he's got since he can only steal these gears from other Inklings and Octolings. His name was (Y/n), and his parents abandoned him in literal trash when he was just born. He never knew or heard of them, but he preferred that way.

If he ever met them, it'd be messy, like the rest of these bastards who tried to get rid of him. The world can fudge themselves, 'I will live how I want...' (Y/n) thought as he entered another empty alley. Little did he know a curtain old Inkling came into view as he entered. (Y/n) stopped momentarily, not expecting someone, noticing it was just a weak old Inkling. (Y/n) was in his usual disguise, with a hat that covered his ink hair so that this old inkling wouldn't expect a thing. 

'Probably taking a shortcut,' (Y/n) thought before walking forward, ignoring the old Inkling. 

"Excuse me, young Inkling. Can I talk to you," The old Inkling asked as he walked past him. 

(Y/n), continued to ignore him, walking slightly faster than before. Before he could leave the alleyway, the old Inkling spoke, "White Death, may I speak to you?"

(Y/n)'s eyes widen, knowing he's been caught by an old Inkling, but he was no threat; why fear him? "Leave old Inkling; this is not a fight you can win..." (Y/n) threatened, not bothering to turn around. The old Inklig didn't respond. Instead, he heard him walking up to him slowly with his cane matching his movement.

"That is something I cannot do, White Death," the old Inkling responded, "And there's no need to fight; I just want to talk."

(Y/n), sighed in annoyance, "You testing my patient, old Inkling," he said, turning around and showing off his now red eyes. "You know that I'm capable of; you don't want to piss me off."

The old Inkling wasn't threatening or fearing (Y/n) threats, just shrugging it off, "I know what you're capable of. I have seen many things, even the massacre of the Square six years ago, where your reputation skyrocketed at the White Death. Even during the Great Turf War, I haven't seen such a massacre; even the government doesn't want to not deal with you." 

"You're a veteran of the Great Turf War?" (Y/n) asked; he thought most of them were gone by now.

"Yes, I am. There are some things I wish I could forget, but there are some things you must live with..." the old Inkling said. "...And for the massacre, there's no justifying what you did, but I understand why you did it or why you could not do it."

(Y/n) felt the monster within him stir, urging him to kill him right now. (Y/n) ignore it as he tried to suppress the urge, "What do you know? Ever since I've been born, everyone hates me!"

"I don't hate you. I want to help you," The old man told him. 

This caught (Y/n) off guard, 'help me?' he thought, confused, "What do you mean, 'help me'?" Before the old Inkling could say anything, (Y/n) cut him off, "No... that's a lie. I've been lied to before, old Inkling. Your tricks are poor old inkling."