Loki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justabitoffun) wrote2012-02-27 05:25 am
justabitoffun) wrote2012-02-27 05:25 am
Entry tags:
Broken
Sudden inspiration brought on by listening to this beautifully sad and yet optimistic song. Based off interactions with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
namesram.
He'd done everything he possibly could to break the program's will and individuality. But the more he buffeted the tiny being it seemed the more the actuary rallied against the malicious god. And no matter how many times he hurt the program it never dampened the high spirit. Certainly he'd seen the actuarial program in distress, seen it sad and even angry that these horrible things continued to plague it. Yet it always bounded back.
By this point in time Loki couldn't figure out how the program was still operating, much less how the actuary continued to operate with such optimism.
He'd broken it, killed it more than once before bringing it back to torture all over again, destroyed several of its fellow programs permanently, hurt its beloved Users on occasion, threatened to destroy its world on numerous occasions, even corrupted several of it's most treasured memories and wiped out whole sections of it's digital realm. Yet it soldiered on. It didn't dredge as he expected either. The program gathered its wits and flung itself back into the mix.
...What he decided he didn't understand the most was its desire to help. Not once could he remember the program not offering aid in some fashion.
It disgusted him. And yet--
He'd taken an entire city block down with him. Damn the Avengers. Damn the SHIELD agency. Damn the entire human race. They would never understand what he offered them. No one had ever understood what he could give them. So much he held in his grasp, so many details of the universe he understood like no one else--and not a single damn being in this entire miserable existence comprehended what good he could bring to the table.
The area smouldered with heat and smoke and ash from the aftermath of the explosion of magical energy. He'd hoped, with one last desperate blow, that he would take out the 'heroes' even if it cost him his own life. But he could see them, just barely through the haze, helping one another back to their feet, rallying together. They'd fight him to the death if needed. He could see the stubbornness in their movements, feel the determination radiating from their weary forms.
He hadn't managed to kill even one of them. And yet here he was, lying amidst his own destruction, spent, practically prone in the rubble around him. He had no idea what they would do with him once they discovered him like this, so easy to finish off or, worse, to capture.
It started out as manic laughter; it ended up as hysterical crying.
Somehow through the burning tears of failure and self-loathing he made out a figure coming towards him scrabbling awkwardly over the rubble. He cringed away before he realized what he was doing. Then he attempted to swallow the tears down and sneer at the approaching figure. It didn't work all that well and he tried not to admit it to himself that he probably looked like he was about to break down into a second wave of sobbing.
He didn't expect the figure that materialized through the smoke before him. He expected an Avenger or a SHIELD agent; what he saw was a small being with unruly blond curls bouncing along with the person's awkward hobbling over the rubble. He blinked. The image didn't change.
Neither one of them said a word as one gazed up and one gazed down at the other. The positions were finally reversed. The program could have done anything it wanted with the god for once. Extract its revenge, take to blows, call out for the others to discover him. Instead, it glanced over its shoulder quickly before offering an open hand down to the fallen god. Loki didn't know what to make of the gesture.
Without a word the program gestured in urgency, pleaded silently with its eyes for the god to take its offer. It just wanted to help.
Through renewed tears, Loki reached up and took hold of the program's hand. He escaped that day with the aid of a tiny being he'd hurt both physically and mentally several times over. For the life of him he couldn't comprehend what was happening.
At the end, just before parting ways, Loki couldn't stand it anymore. He had to ask.
"Everyone deserves a second chance. I just wish... with all that power, you wouldn't waste it on the wrong endeavors. I bet you could do better."
Loki didn't have a reply to that. He didn't even notice the program disappear while he was still lingering over the words.
The next time Ram was back on the Grid he knew instantly that something was different. Flynn, Sam, and the rest didn't have any explanation for him; they were just as confounded as to how it had happened as the rest. No one was complaining however as they all stared at the beautiful rise of newly reformatted buildings towering out of the previously dark sector. An entire cycle's worth of effort done in a single nanocycle.
When Ram finally figured it out, he smiled to himself.
namesram.He'd done everything he possibly could to break the program's will and individuality. But the more he buffeted the tiny being it seemed the more the actuary rallied against the malicious god. And no matter how many times he hurt the program it never dampened the high spirit. Certainly he'd seen the actuarial program in distress, seen it sad and even angry that these horrible things continued to plague it. Yet it always bounded back.
By this point in time Loki couldn't figure out how the program was still operating, much less how the actuary continued to operate with such optimism.
He'd broken it, killed it more than once before bringing it back to torture all over again, destroyed several of its fellow programs permanently, hurt its beloved Users on occasion, threatened to destroy its world on numerous occasions, even corrupted several of it's most treasured memories and wiped out whole sections of it's digital realm. Yet it soldiered on. It didn't dredge as he expected either. The program gathered its wits and flung itself back into the mix.
...What he decided he didn't understand the most was its desire to help. Not once could he remember the program not offering aid in some fashion.
It disgusted him. And yet--
He'd taken an entire city block down with him. Damn the Avengers. Damn the SHIELD agency. Damn the entire human race. They would never understand what he offered them. No one had ever understood what he could give them. So much he held in his grasp, so many details of the universe he understood like no one else--and not a single damn being in this entire miserable existence comprehended what good he could bring to the table.
The area smouldered with heat and smoke and ash from the aftermath of the explosion of magical energy. He'd hoped, with one last desperate blow, that he would take out the 'heroes' even if it cost him his own life. But he could see them, just barely through the haze, helping one another back to their feet, rallying together. They'd fight him to the death if needed. He could see the stubbornness in their movements, feel the determination radiating from their weary forms.
He hadn't managed to kill even one of them. And yet here he was, lying amidst his own destruction, spent, practically prone in the rubble around him. He had no idea what they would do with him once they discovered him like this, so easy to finish off or, worse, to capture.
It started out as manic laughter; it ended up as hysterical crying.
Somehow through the burning tears of failure and self-loathing he made out a figure coming towards him scrabbling awkwardly over the rubble. He cringed away before he realized what he was doing. Then he attempted to swallow the tears down and sneer at the approaching figure. It didn't work all that well and he tried not to admit it to himself that he probably looked like he was about to break down into a second wave of sobbing.
He didn't expect the figure that materialized through the smoke before him. He expected an Avenger or a SHIELD agent; what he saw was a small being with unruly blond curls bouncing along with the person's awkward hobbling over the rubble. He blinked. The image didn't change.
Neither one of them said a word as one gazed up and one gazed down at the other. The positions were finally reversed. The program could have done anything it wanted with the god for once. Extract its revenge, take to blows, call out for the others to discover him. Instead, it glanced over its shoulder quickly before offering an open hand down to the fallen god. Loki didn't know what to make of the gesture.
Without a word the program gestured in urgency, pleaded silently with its eyes for the god to take its offer. It just wanted to help.
Through renewed tears, Loki reached up and took hold of the program's hand. He escaped that day with the aid of a tiny being he'd hurt both physically and mentally several times over. For the life of him he couldn't comprehend what was happening.
At the end, just before parting ways, Loki couldn't stand it anymore. He had to ask.
"Everyone deserves a second chance. I just wish... with all that power, you wouldn't waste it on the wrong endeavors. I bet you could do better."
Loki didn't have a reply to that. He didn't even notice the program disappear while he was still lingering over the words.
The next time Ram was back on the Grid he knew instantly that something was different. Flynn, Sam, and the rest didn't have any explanation for him; they were just as confounded as to how it had happened as the rest. No one was complaining however as they all stared at the beautiful rise of newly reformatted buildings towering out of the previously dark sector. An entire cycle's worth of effort done in a single nanocycle.
When Ram finally figured it out, he smiled to himself.