freakshow | technoblade bnha au

arc four: part two

"Hurry up," the jail guard snarled at him, shoving him forward roughly. Eighty kept quiet, staring forward blankly. Getting arrested was shameful, but being in jail didn't feel too bad. He noticed televisions up in a few corners of the facility broadcasting the latest news about heroes and villains and weather conditions and wondered if the prisoners kept up with the latest hero drama.

The guard nudged him forward into his cell, a room locked away from the others with heavy iron bars that felt cold as he brushed his fingers across them. The gate was slammed behind him and the sound ran a shock through him and he turned around to see the devious glint in the guard's eyes.

"You know, the prisoners here don't really like child killers," the guard said casually with a warning edge to it. "One day, we just might crack the cell door open. But that's just hypothetical," with a withering glance, the man turned around and headed off.

A jolt ran through Eighty's body again and he reached up to touch his cheek, eyes staring at the retreating figure of the man who locked him up. "Fuck," he breathed and reached up to touch his hair, split down the middle and very, very recognizable.
His mind flickered to the image of his corpse laying on the bed of his jail cell, mutilated and smothered by a pillow in his sleep in a damp, cold chamber and no one around. He'd be found in the morning and disposed of by the guards, who wouldn't bat an eye. They'd pass it off as a mere accident or a suicide to the public.

His heart quickened, pounding in his chest. He couldn't die yet... right? He still has to take care of Sammy and Purpled... and Deo. Deo's fucking stupid, but Eighty still cared for him. What would they do without him? They couldn't handle another loss. His eyes drifted down to his forearm. A systematic beep sounded from the bracelet fastened around his right wrist, the pale blue light emitting from a rectangular screen indicating that his quirk was in fact disabled.

Eighty lowered his hand to his left eye, bright scarlet and unnatural. Many people had quirks that affected their eye colour... right? He could cut a patch out of some clothes and wrap it around his other eye. But his hair, his iconic hair that was divided in half in black and white. He needed a way to make it a flat colour.

His fist found himself in his black locks. Eighty gave a little tug on it. Maybe he should just rip out one side of his hair. He'll look like a hippy, but it could work...

The dual hair coloured man runs through the list of thoughts running in his head like gears, deep in thought as the minutes passed by. To no avail, he had reached a dead-end, causing him to curl his hands into fists and turn to a wall, throwing a swift punch at it only to stop himself, inches away from gaining a bloodied knuckle. His breathing quickens, his gaze darkening as tears well up in his eyes. Eighty stares down at his palms- was this the man he had turned to?

No... he was no more man, but a beast. A monster fueled by his hatred and rage, now unable to control his impulses and acts solely on his emotions, along with anger. He feels his legs collapse. They shake, go numb, and his body slides to the floor.