"𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪."

Metanoia

As the days went by, 3 found itself regretting its decision not to kill Mark less and less. The human wasn't like Cesar had been, didn't have the same animated tone that tended to get on its nerves. He was quiet, composed, but completely unpredictable at the same time. Mark was the type of person to make you think you had him all figured out, before pulling a curveball on you. The person to spontaneously invite you over to his house after a week of radio silence, and then not talk to you again for another week.

Not that 3 minded, it had never been a social creature. Alternates were solitary at heart, and the only time you could expect to see two of them in the same place would be because of one them intruded in the other's haunt, and hell was about to break loose. Well, most times, that was. There were always exceptions, alternates that hunted in groups... That found comradeship within each other.

It was true that 3 wasn't a social hunter, but it'd be lying if it said that it had never spent time with another of its kind. Still, those were few and far between. It couldn't remember a recent time in which it had done anything but hunt and run, until now that was.

Mark.

The human had changed so much of 3's with a simple act of concern for a friend. A friend that was... Dead. The smile it'd had moments prior was swiped off of its face, eyes narrowing. It had been six months now since it'd stopped trying to kill the human, and seven since it'd killed Cesar, but... In all that time, it hadn't really stopped to think about what it meant in the long run.

The person that it could wholeheartedly call a friend thought it was Cesar. And it had killed him, usurped his identity. Fuck. Not only was its a betrayer of its kind, defective, but the life it lived now came at the expense of someone else. Why did it feel so guilty? This was just its nature, to kill, to destroy. But it didn't do so with Mark. Did such a small act really change everything?

3 groaned from its spot on the couch, turning on its side. Stop thinking.

It couldn't. Now that it'd started to think, really think, about what it'd done all its life, all it could see was a monster. It was a monster, so why did it hurt to know that for sure? To be able to admit it, confront it?

This was much more trouble than it was worth. Too soft to be a good alternate, too much of a monster to deserve to be having such a good life masquerading as a human. It knew for a fact that it didn't deserve this. How smoothly everything had gone, how it could guarantee that it'd talk to Mark at least once a week, truly laugh. To be happy.

Why did it get to be happy, when it had taken this same happiness away from Cesar? From his mom? From all the ones whose name it couldn't even remember at this point?

"Fuck. Just... Stop thinking. You never cared about this before. So, just... Just shut it down."

Useless. That's what it was. When Mark found out, it had no doubts that the human wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in its chest, no matter what. And... Well, it'd deserve such a fate. To be taken out by its closest friend, to avenge his true friend.

It was certainly better than the alternative, which was Father. He never did take well to disappointments, and 3 knew painfully well that it'd been on thin ice with the antichrist its whole life. He was just waiting for a reason to kill it, for being defective, and this? Well, that'd be the most perfect reason. What a ridiculous thought, an alternate being friends with a human. It was just like a wolf being friends with a bunny, predator and prey.

It should have known to stay in its own lane.