He hears the voice, the plea. The pain. Another day he would pity the child, pity what the world has done to him. Another day he might have let others step up to act, to cosset, to chide and guide back to the 'right path'.
Except he'd abandoned that path long ago, hadn't he?
Thunderclap had once been a hero. Had once stood shoulder to shoulder with these people who called themselves the saviors of the world. But they weren't that. They were corrupt in their own ways, ignored the true pains, failed to see that the only way to save everyone was to take them away from the paths they walked, away from the structures of powers that ruled their lives. He would save them. He could save them. But only if they let him.
And only if this child didn't destroy it all first.
Getting here hadn't been easy, but here the former hero, known once for his nobility and honor before his descent into what some considered madness from channeling too much electricity over too many years, hovered. His dark gray uniform was torn and burned, but the silvery-blue streaks over it meant to evoke the image of lightning were shining with reflected light from the electricity dancing over his gauntleted hands.
You can't do this, he's a child. This... this is wrong. Something is very wrong a voice in the back of his head said, insisted, pleaded. David's voice. The voice of the person that had been pushed down under the power of the AI that had taken control.
IT was a weak voice. It wasn't needed. Instead it was Thunderclap, or the memory of him, that called out.
B - I mean, stopping you is a *FORM* of help, right?
Except he'd abandoned that path long ago, hadn't he?
Thunderclap had once been a hero. Had once stood shoulder to shoulder with these people who called themselves the saviors of the world. But they weren't that. They were corrupt in their own ways, ignored the true pains, failed to see that the only way to save everyone was to take them away from the paths they walked, away from the structures of powers that ruled their lives. He would save them. He could save them. But only if they let him.
And only if this child didn't destroy it all first.
Getting here hadn't been easy, but here the former hero, known once for his nobility and honor before his descent into what some considered madness from channeling too much electricity over too many years, hovered. His dark gray uniform was torn and burned, but the silvery-blue streaks over it meant to evoke the image of lightning were shining with reflected light from the electricity dancing over his gauntleted hands.
You can't do this, he's a child. This... this is wrong. Something is very wrong a voice in the back of his head said, insisted, pleaded. David's voice. The voice of the person that had been pushed down under the power of the AI that had taken control.
IT was a weak voice. It wasn't needed. Instead it was Thunderclap, or the memory of him, that called out.
"I'll help you alright, kid. Help us all."