Title : Reset Me

Summary : There's a glitch in the system.

For a gaiaonline contest (lol) , wish me luck.

Nowadays, the floor was somewhat of a comfort.

Hoarse voices screamed like starving vultures over top of the man as he laid still on the ground, dizzy and worn with years of anger still burning inside him. His cheek pressed against the cold marble of the castle ground, lustfully tracing the beautiful swirls engraved into the marble with lost eyes as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

It isn't fair, he'd whisper in broken tones, fingers reaching for the fallen sword only to be swatted at. The routine was always the same, the days had only differed with his motive dying with each and every defeat. It isn't fair, he'd whisper. And so like the times before, his chest would squeeze tight and he'd let out the same agonizing scream as little by little his bones would crush under a stampede of small boots. Giggles echoing out in and out of the haze as he tried to blink out the Cheshire grin that had painted itself behind his eyes.

Heroes are not raised, they are made.

They do not run around with blue capes, sprouting words of mock reassurance and flying through the vast blue sky into the wake of disaster. They do not rise to the challenge, triggered by memories of a gun and a scream and a fountain of scarlet. Justice is not a thing that exists in a child's mind, they scream and cry and beg in the most menial of ways. Honor is lost in the snot that runs down their faces as a sword is pointed to their throats.

Heroes are children, passing down a lie that dates back to the very beginning of time. Human nature dictates that innocence is a quality best to be taken advantaged of and so they force them to delve into books, into conversation, into life.

What pitiful souls, so constantly lied to and unknowingly walking down the same path that his predecessors had done before him.

The chain had continued on for so long, having worn down the man for quite a while now. He could remember when times weren't like this, when all there was were adolescent laughter and joyful cheers and the voices of two souls forever in tune to one another. When the lies had only been lies, when they weren't bearing down on them like whole worlds on their shoulders.

Time was always the hero's enemy.

Naivety was his first fault.

His bones are broken and limbs sprawled out all around him. The pain had dulled with years of an endless loop of events, like a broken record playing the same eerie harmony. The footsteps had faded out the door, and their loud obnoxious cheers could be heard throughout the once great hall.

The window has to be boarded up, he reminded himself as he watched his shadow dash through the light. Mock innocence dancing around him like fairies as his 'friends' cheered him on.

His chest is still aching from the hit he had taken earlier, hot agony spreading through his center. How ironic was it that this was the only way he could get warm.

No place in the light.

The hymm had haunted him for days now, a chorus constantly singing in his ear of his eternal role. Forever meeting the ground, and forever being put down by the mocking voices of shrill vultures.

"Just kill me already," he'd find himself whispering; now just barely responding as the warmth crept inside him like poison dancing into his blood."I want to go home"

He heard the gasp.

Heard the clatter of a heavy overly decorated sword.

He didn't care at all.

He was tired of constantly having his strings pulled and played with, tired of staring at the cold marble ground until sleep finally took him. It was an uncontrollable anger that welled up inside him as he laid there, paralyzed on the ground.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

He had played all his cards right, but fate had never likened the battle to him. He was never the victor.




"Why should I care," the hero's voice seemed to echo amidst the glasses and long hallways of the castle, the sound dancing over chandeliers and down dusty staircases.

"you're just a level five monster."