Chapter Text
A pursuit for power somehow never goes the way he assumed it would. Last time he lost his sister to his hunger for power. This time he feels he could lose himself, and it seems a final stand. What is to become of what’s left?
Spectra found himself in a position of power that he could not seem to keep control over. Hydron still had him wrapped around his finger almost as much as before, and Spectra wanted…
No, he needed out.
The mask he wore tended to hide the true state of his body, as his eyes were so terribly sunken. Everytime the mask came off, he swore his dark circles looked worse. He wasn’t one to sleep, at least not well. He spent very little time in his own area, and walked around the facility far more. He found it to be a way to keep himself calm, and it all would be perfect, if it weren’t for Gus and his odd and seemingly magnetic attraction to himself; it would all be so much easier.
Gus tended to find him in some of the worst moments, and in some of the most vulnerable ones as well. Spectra couldn’t help but feel terribly frustrated. He had thrown everything away, and it was all because of his awful family dynamic. It never worked the way it used to, and he was completely shattered by it. To work for destruction, and to be brought into it at the ripe age of 16. Ridiculous. He fought for nothing, and for years was an underdog. At 19, he had barely lived, and it all seemed to break who he was. He lost his only sibling, he lost his own control, and now what was at stake? Unsure, he truly was.
The night seemed almost prime time to wander, and even find his own privacy away from the others. They found solace in sleep, and he found only another long night of nightmares and internal collapse. He only walked the halls near to his quarters/room/whatever seemed appropriate to call it. He found he had no desire to sleep, and the ungodly hours of the night were truly in their prime. He could feel the strain of the day on his body, and found the survival instincts he truly hated had started to sink in. He felt the odd shaking again in his hands, and the headache he had tried to ignore had come back in full-force. It was more irritating than it was painful, but he found both to be a nemesis. He found that the avoidance of food kept him from falling too far. He knew how ridiculous it was. It was completely ridiculous, and he knew it could be the death of him.
He never stopped eating, not completely; he ate, but he just never ate quite enough. It was enough to keep him able to keep battling, but not enough for much else, and so he found himself almost always miserable. It didn’t help much that nothing seemed to fit. The red coat hid most of the damage he was doing. It was a vice, a comfort, and his safety net. To be found out would be the reason he decides to go rogue, or even do what he knows he should, and join with his sister. It’s one of the reasons he does what he does. He doesn’t want to destroy everything, he wants nothing to do with it, but to his father, he is the ultimate, the chosen one as they’d say in old fairy tales and lore. He wasn’t one to disappoint, but at this point; he couldn’t care. It was almost despicable to be a part of this.
Spectra found himself met with his own reflection in a long stretch of metal as he walked back to his room. The palace seemed so much less of a palace the longer he remained in it. It seemed now to be just a lab, glorified, and containing a throne.
The reflection he found of himself was not terribly unnerving, just a bit odd. He had opted to leave the coat on his bed, and even the overcoat; leaving him in only a black tank top, exposed.
It all came down to being stealthy on the late night wandering. Gus seemed to be a terribly light sleeper when Spectra wandered, and with a wrong step he’d be by the side of Spectra, usually startling him; which is why he wandered barefoot. The sound of his footsteps were barely audible.
He found the sharpness of his cheekbones to strike him, and he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed them or if they were now starting to become almost ugly. He was never fond of himself, but being too thin was something he knew he wouldn’t find too comforting on himself.
It was now the obsession that seemed to almost scream for the thinness. He was stuck between fighting his avoidance and almost fear of food, and falling deeper into this pit that could kill him. He could feel a ravenous monster brew inside of him. It was something he knew all too well from experiences past.
One doesn’t starve for long before the body fights, and it seems the urge grows stronger each time one goes back into the gutter of starvation.
He was a ticking time bomb, and once he cracked, there would be no going back. The time between the explosions came sooner and sooner. He found himself hunched over a toilet with a terribly sore throat and open wounds on his knuckles...teeth are sharper than he had expected.
He felt his vision start to blur a bit, so he made his way back into his room. He found his bed to be the most comforting. He laid himself on it and almost subconsciously had a hand already caressing his hip bones. For as much as he hated the way his coping mechanisms left him with a terribly thin body; he did admire it as well. He couldn’t hate it; it created an elegant line. He found it fitting for his title.
The ceiling seemed so enticing, yet it was cold, boring, and he wanted out. He felt so trapped in this place.
Sleep seemed to come over his body swiftly after laying down, and he found himself in a deep sleep.
The night seemed to weaken, and he awoke in the morning to a baby blue sky outside of the slight window by his closet. He found himself almost jolting up from both a pain in his side from falling asleep on his hip, and hunger. He found it was his motivator to get up. He let himself eat in the morning, and in the afternoon. It was when it was easiest, as his head wouldn’t get in his way.
Spectra put on the surcoat and then his overcoat before going to get food. He knew he was the last one to rise, as Gus was already waiting for him in the dining area, and Shadow was already bothering Mylene. It was all just the normal piece of how he lived. Lync was a child, and truly acted as such. His head burrowed into games and such items that seemed to be lost as one grew older. Volt was Volt, a character truly, always requiring to be the top, but the most respectful of all of them. He always found a way to thank his opponent, no matter, and Spectra found he always wished he could be the same.
He was far too power hungry for such a thing. He had to win, and would do anything he could.
Gus was immediately next to his side, and got food after Spectra, who had just gotten some basics, truly enough for one meal he assumed, yet it seemed Helios had other thoughts, and so the two argued a bit over his well being. Spectra found this to be common banter. Helios would find something to say about his habits, and Spectra would undermine the comments. He found Helios a saving grace as well as a thorn in his side.
Helios actually cared about him, which was odd, and it was almost like having his mom warn him of the consequences every time he avoided food.
Today was no different of any other day, not at all.