OverWrite

Prolouge - Innocent No More

He wasn't really a human.

If he was anything— anything that the universe has destined him to be— then a human is certainly not among the species that he can be categorised to. Not anymore, at least.

He never really thought he would say that; having being councious of his biology for so long, Boboiboy really had no reason to doubt even the fragment of his existence— but curiousity was bound to due.  After all, a child in a constant war is vulnerable to these sorts of questions. Although he tend to be so caught up in battles after battles - a cruel game where he challenged fate and gambles with death on itself - Boboiboy couldn't help but to question.

Did war created him, or did he created war?

Was his existence the result of a crossfire? Is he even human?

Were he even supposed to be?

If so, how come when they were in a battle - when he and his gang were fighting literal extraterrestrial beings originated from another world that possessed unwordly power, strength and technologies and his body is in so much pain and God please let this torment end - none of them sustained any permanent scar from it?

It's not that he's ungrateful for the enhanced strength bestowed upon him, but he couldn't help but to doubt his own mortality at times. Boboiboy remembers vindictively how there were so many wounds inflicted upon his frail body, begging him to just stand down and lay low when he was tempting fate, playing a dangerous game with his own life at stake—

Really, it never cease to suprise him that he was likely to be the last man standing. Or that he's the sole (stuborn) force standing between peace and destruction.

He can't rest. A burden so heavy is resting on his shoulders. He can't. Not now.

He had jobs to do, missions to complete, people to safe.

(May God save him)

So, without a single help, having to ignore the cries of his friends and the shout of his body to calm down, he had faced Death— he, a child who isn't any older than a mere 15-year-old, fought for the sake of the world, as chants of prayers sometimes feels too heavy to be uttered, and wishes sounds more like a hopeful, yet cruel coir ringing bu his ears.

('God forbid he closed his eyes', he had once thought, as he clung to his jacket's zipper that is shaped like a thunderstorm.

He has never hated anything more)

Sometimes, Boboiboy tend to reflects of a life that once could be called as his; a life that doesn't require him to be attentive at all times, one that doesn't need him to be on guard 24/7. Sometimes, if he thinks hard enough, he can even make out the norms— even relish in it for a while if given the chance— only to be cruelly woken up to the tormenting cries of help and shouts and demands.

So many voices, never his own. He wishes that they would shut up sometimes.

Other times, he would float in darkness. A complete abyssal on his end, seeing as he couldn't rest the burden of being a soldier unto somebody else.

How did he let things get so bad?

It was undeniable, often forgetable, that he was, too, a regular kid at first— but now? His world consist of nothing but aliens, robots, powers and Power Sphere. Supposedly, he would've been ecstatic— no two days are ever the same, after all-— had it not been for the fact that his nights were plagued with the forgery of cleaning classes and sitting for exams.

It kinda felt like he was living in his fantasy.

An imaginary of an insane man.

(Count all your blessings, not your flaws)

If Boboiboy had too much free time on his hand, his mind would torment him of the day it all started.

The damn day he opened the Godforsaken Pandora Box that lead to all these.

He only wanted to saved his Grandfather's can of cocoa, and that's all there is to look into. Saving a can of cocoa. A simple, childish dream of wanting to prevent a burglary that soon cause a chain reaction of bad lucks.

Because that's when everything started to happened.

Because that's when Boboiboy realised that due to his overhwhelming yet misplaced kindness and innocence, he had doomed everyone.

He has stolen something that was valuable from an alien, and he is now sitting his sentence. He is now answering for his mistake, atoning for his sins.

Why is it that nothing is ever right by him? What has he done to deserve all these? What horrible sin had he commited that he had to sit idly by the steel room, waiting to depart of his next battle of supernatural beings?

Why does he needs to be the first one who showed up in front of that damned robot? Why does his kindness always, and he means always, cause an issue to surface? Like the day when he chased the three robbers who stole some laundry and saved the day, it turns upside down when he forgot to spends time with his friends. One thing leads to another and the next thing he knew— he is cradling Ochobot's shattered remains.

It really hurt him when everything that is happening right now...

...Was caused by his kindness...

(Little boys are made out of broken glass and fake hopes and dreams. They are surrounded by grenades and riffles and deaths. If the world is kind, there would be a pink bandage nearby

Boboiboy would put those bandanges on his friends first. Never once attending to his own injuries. He is stupid like that)

Boboiboy acknowledge that his powers are a gift— he had to ignore the fact that it was because he had attain them his childhood is now ruined and if he acknowledge that that he had no other choice but to confront that it's his fault too— but insisted that it makes him special.

While he wasn't as smart as Yaya or Ying, or was he as multi- talented in as Fang, or was he a good friend who cheers the mood like Gopal— he is special.

That's right.

Boboiboy is special. He is a special boy who compliment others and others would compliment him because he is so special and if he is not he really doesn't know how to live with himself— so he is special. He is the choosen one. He has to be.

There's got to be some sort of reward for him in the end. There has to be.

But where do the damned goes? When the light flickers and the end credit rolls up, where do the tarnished went?

Boboiboy wanted to sleep.

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Author's Note:

Well, that's just about it, folks; after what seems like YEARS of abandonment, I have returned.

I'm going to rewrite what I've got so far. Because, yeesh— I suppose younger me has no idea as of what to write (in proper orders, mind you) and how to convey the ideas.

I'm trying to add more of emotional depth into the story and had Boboiboy progressively going insane instead of whatever I had originally plan. If it gets abandoned again, then I don't know. It's not my fault.

AUTHOR'S REDO NOTE:

Alright folks; I am back with now a new emotional baggage and a whopping trauma belt around me. I got this, hopefully.