Animator vs Animation: The Dark Web

Prologue: The Bands

It's been years since the battle between The Chosen One and The Dark Lord.

The Chosen One could still remember it like it was yesterday; eliminating the virabot from destroying his creator's computer, the intense showdown that almost led him to his demise, and that green laser.

He still has chills thinking about it. The kid was the one who erased The Dark Lord, thus saving the whole internet. But even after all that, why—why did he feel a little regret for The Dark Lord?

The Chosen One knew that he wasn't supposed to. The Dark Lord's plans were becoming too extreme, even for him. Besides, Alan created him to be his enemy, a rivalry created since the start. But then again... he was his lifelong friend. They did everything together.

He missed him more than he could admit. The feeling of loss felt foolish. But he wasn't a fool. He wasn't created to be a fool. It needed to be done.

But right now, it shouldn't even matter. The Chosen One flew over the city, just a casual round of flying he'd always do. From the sky, he looked down, seeing the crowd of mortals enjoying their lives. They strolled down the streets, either heading to work or having a regular talk with a friend.

They looked... at ease. And yet, The Chosen One couldn't even catch one break in his life. He couldn't bear it, but he felt jealous. They were lucky. They didn't know about the dangers of The Dark Lord—what he was going to do that was going to haunt them forever.

He sighed, shaking his head. The flaming jets from his palms pulsed, continuing to fly forward. But an idea sparked. What if he looked around in the city? Come to think of it, he never genuinely stepped a foot into the city before.

Despite The Chosen One's jealousy of the mortals, there was a hint of curiosity brewing in him. The only time that he truly went into the city was when he was getting chased by the mercenaries, absolutely breaking some buildings in the process—what another scary time.

But that was then, this was now. His gaze lingered on the city before he nodded his head. It was settled.

The Chosen One dove down from the sky. He descended, soaring towards one of the streets, catching a crowd of locals' attention. When he landed, an aura of fire encircling him, the crowd became frightened. Some figures ran away, while some studied him from a safe distance assessing if he was some sort of threat to them.

He felt all eyes leaning towards him. He never bothered to get intimidated by attention, but this—felt different. It reminded him of how he and The Dark—NO! The Chosen One briefly shook his head. No need for his emotions to get the best of him again. This was his time to cherish. No turning back now.

The hollowhead, attempting to dismiss the crowd's stares, started walking down the block. He focused on the surroundings around him; the ear-deafening honking of cars, the tall buildings, the sound of chattering people. And of course, unwanted attention. It was unnerving, but what did The Chosen One expect others to react? A figure with a hollowhead and fire powers, strolling down their streets? It sounded intimidating, of course, it was expected.

The Chosen One continued to wander until he reached a corner. He was about to turn, gaze still scanning his surroundings, before he came to a sudden halt. The Chosen One's eyes glanced forward.

Before him was a narrow, sketchy backstreet, branching off from the main road lined with small marts. Coming out of the shadows was a peculiar muted blue-gray stick figure. He emerged, draped in a creme-trimmed red cloak, long heart-shaped coattails under, and one matching red heart clip at each side of his head.

The Chosen One tilted his head. Something about his attire, something about the way he stood. Something about him definitely was strange...

The stick figure paused when he exited the shadowy street. He glanced around cautiously, arms tucked underneath his cloak as if concealing something precious. He almost looked nervous, yet attentive, like he was hoping not to draw any attention.