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[ Silco does not make it a habit of admitting anything. Every secret is precious. Ever weakness something to exploit.

Lies come so easily, these days. He had already favored them.

He doesn't answer directly. He doesn't have to. Hugo already knows. He doesn't intend to make it any clearer than that, but he will tell him who it was that he'd been... intimate with. ]

We were closer than brothers, once.

We worked together, in the mines, and for Zaun. Until the moment he lost his mettle, and I became inconvenient, because I knew we could not simply continue to accept this.

He's the one that gave me my eye. He's the one that tried to drown me. A pity it failed, as it cost him with interest, in the end.

In a way, you experienced that too, recently.

[ fuuuuuuuck. ]

[ Now he does truly wish they were having this conversation in person. He doesn’t think so, but if there’s any anger underneath Silco’s words, it would change Hugo’s mind on what to say. For example, to himself, he’s surprised again by just how similar they are. With the way Silco describes it, he can’t help but think of Lycaon.

Closer than brothers. Being abandoned when it was too inconvenient.

He sighs to himself, because he does understand, or he thinks he does. When you were that close, even if it was years and years ago, the sense of attachment only fades, never disappears. Even if all you feel is something bitter and negative. ]

I’m sorry, then. I would have stayed away if I knew.

[ It’s a genuine apology, and that’s rarer from Hugo than he’d like people to know. ]

I had a partner like that once too. Our parting may not have been as violent, but it was over a similar difference of ideals. So, I know that betrayal. It’s unique.

[ yeah, that's right hugo. You did fuck around and found out. 💖 ]

Did your partner thrive, without you around? Twist what you had done into a sweet little lie that made everything seem so reasonable. Compliance. Complacency? Working with the very people that shot us?

He did that, you know. When I ran, he used the opportunity to take power over something we'd once built together, and turn it into a shining beacon of hope for the undercity. Of course, it was a false thing. A promise of something better, but what it was, was nothing. Still lean times, still barely making by.

[ That is what he hates Vander for. That after the enforcers shot them, killed some of them, tried to arrest Benzo and when all he'd done was try to Stop it, Vander had turned around and made a deal with them.

He always wondered how the enforcer who took control of them — Grayson — how she'd risen to power. Was she there, on the day of ash?

Did she shoot a gun at them? Was she the one that hit him with the butt of her rifle in the eye? He never would know. He could have asked Marcus, but... in the end, did it matter? ]

I killed him, you know.

Imagine my surprise when he came back from the dead.

[ Silco you are ALSO dead. ]

[ Just that very first question stings, but that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s entirely accurate, and as he continues reading, it pulls out more of the feeling that Hugo didn’t think much about nowadays. Lycaon had abandoned Mockingbird (abandoned him) many years ago at this point, so the pain of that betrayal had been blunted by time.

…But it never went away. That kind of feeling never completely fades.

Hugo’s instinct is to offer sympathy for Silco, but he doesn’t. Similar as they are and with shockingly similar stories, he’s realized that he does have more empathy than the other man. Silco recoils from it so much that he’ll just keep it to himself. ]

Lycaon did, yes.

[ He might as well give his name. With the similarity of their stories, it feels like Silco should know it. ]

He was the one that ran, but unlike you, it’s because he was a coward. He ran into the “safe” arms of working for the very people that we once stole from. Bowing his head with polite words and serving them as a butler. He chose to be their dog.

[ Even in text, the disdain is obvious. ~~and silco feels something wrong in the ether at the word “butler” how weird~~ ]

All to say. I understand why you would kill him.

[ Would Hugo? …No. He knows he couldn’t. But the pain of that betrayal was enough that he can understand why others would without question. ]

Their dog. How funny. Men like that know nothing but obedience to power. They find ways to serve them, whether they become the help, or their loyal hound at their feet, it matters not.

[ look at all these dog metaphors jesus ]

They were both cowards, in the end. They cling to their little lies and the promise of comfort, safety, and keeping things level, that they sacrifice any possibility of change. They accept the unacceptable out of fear.

[ Silco you have never met Lycoan. But he feels something there. The tenuous string, that thrumming that feels so much like anger, wrong, something through the line, that he thinks he understands Hugo a little better.

Perhaps he had less to fear. This Lycoan had never tried to kill him. Had never seen him in the end, after all that loss, and decided that one more trencher was all it would take to fix the problem. Silence the radical voice speaking out. To make him quiet, was to make them all quiet. They would obey, because the two of them had built the lanes together, but what was it, if Silco had also died from the Enforcers' weapons?

An easy lie. Simple. Made complicated by the fact that he'd escaped.

Hugo was the same, but he was different. He didn't keep himself away, but mingled with people like it was an easy, natural task. Silco withdrew. The boy clearly had no issues with being around others, whereas Silco kept himself held back. Hugo wanted connection. Silco forced himself to not. ]

It is interesting, isn't it? That these tales always seem to echo. Across the span of a universe.

[ He’d meant dog more literally in this case, but it’s not like the metaphorical interpretation is wrong. If the conversation were less serious, then Hugo would probably mention that Hugo was a wolf Thiren, but it’s not so important for now. Silco will have to wait another day to learn of Hugo’s true bravery, alas. ]

Ha. How did you know that it’s been on my mind lately~?

[ That response is immediate once Silco points out how interesting it is what they share. Hugo does wonder if it unsettles Silco as much as it does him, but he also imagines not. It’s probably just a curiosity, because Hugo is the one that feels like the more he learns about Silco and his life, the more it seems like he’s peering into an alternate path of his own life.

Whether it’s better or worse, he can’t say, but it’s darker. Not because of the difference in their worlds, even, but because Silco had taken the harsher, more brutal path that Hugo had refused to. Is this what he would have been if he hadn’t met Jack?

…He thinks so, yes. ]

Lycaon and I’s paths were beginning to cross again before I came here, actually. I stole something important, and it was something that his dear master desperately wanted. Just a little gem, but I know what it’s capable of. That power shouldn’t be in the hands of anyone, frankly. But especially not the people who coveted it. So, perhaps killing Lycaon was in my future. Perhaps we were walking down a parallel path to you and Vander.

[ He doesn't find it unsettling, necessarily, but the more he notices it... the more he notes that there are others that are like that, the more worlds he sees that are like his, the more he concludes that there is something sick at the heart of it all. How many times must it be repeated, in sequence, over and over again, for people to get fed up? How often must it happen, before it's changed?

Or will it never be changed? How can it sit like this, into perpetuity? Does nobody else see it? Is there really nobody else with the mettle to change it? ]

Perhaps you were. Is it so surprising? That men like them, who focus on respectability, and on accommodating would be in our way?

Would you do it, in the end? Kill him? If you had to?

That part, no. Not at all. It's honestly more surprising that we haven't really been properly at odds before this heist. I knew we would one day, but I expected it to be something unimportant first. ...So, in this case? I would, yes. I wouldn't take any pleasure in it, since he's a good man, but I would do it if I had to.

Is he?

Truly a "good man"?

[ He thinks the opposite, of Vander. ]

Or have you convinced yourself of that?

I think so, yes. I'll put it this way. Back when we were partners, I was very much the brains to his brawn... But he truly, earnestly wants to do the right thing. He's just also easily led by others. A loyal puppy, in other words.

A loyal puppy.

[ Christ. ]

I think one that is so easily swayed by others should perhaps hesitate more before taking action, don't you think?

Then again, I think "good men" so often are hardly good at all. Perhaps I'm biased.

Oh, absolutely! It caused the majority of our arguments when we were on good terms, though I imagine that isn't surprising at all... But I can't rebuke your opinion. I feel that there are good people out there, rare as they may be, and that's my own bias. Honestly, if anything, I worry that there are too many of those good people here. They're the sorts that get into trouble because they think the best of others.

Is that good, truly?

Foolishly throwing ones life out for what they think is the best? Ceaselessly, endlessly making poor decisions? Perpetuating the status quo?

Is that good, Hugo?

It can be, yes. Even excluding Lycaon, I can think of people who would answer those questions "poorly" in our opinion, but they're undeniably good people.

[ Phatheon comes to mind. He doesn't like the side of the equation that those two had landed on, since it's undeniably in opposition to his goals... But both Belle and Wise are good people. He has no doubts about that. So, to himself, he sighs. ]

We're separate from that, though. We're the people willing to do what's necessary, no matter what it means. Whether it's good or bad. That makes us villains, but that's necessary.

Edited 2025-10-21 15:03 (UTC)

No, it makes us monsters. There is no such thing as villains, or heroes.

Or even good, and evil.

[ This is warped, of course, but Silco's philosophy is so baked into what he's experienced. To him, people like Lycoan or Vander could not be good. There was pain there, trauma. There was a willingness to accept the wrong thing. Because "people could get hurt", because it was "wrong". What did it matter if people were hurt through negligence? What did it matter if people were cruelly suffering the little cruelties? It didn't to them.

It was acceptable to them.

What good men were, Silco had long decided, were hypocrites. At least he knew this. Accepted it. At least he was one and did not deny it.

They did.

That's what rankled. ]

The only difference between us, and them, is the willingness to say what it is we are doing. They simply delude themselves.

[ It might seem like semantics, but that choice of word stings more than Silco could know. It makes Hugo briefly close his phone and turn it over in his hands as he considers his response.

Maybe it's a bit childish to think of those hard choices in terms of heroes and villains like a story. But a villain is still different than a monster. The villain makes their choices. Even if the world views them as wicked, it's still their choice. But a monster... They're born that way. He can't help but think of it that way, because so much of his life has revolved around that distinction.

Is he just following in his father's footsteps? That's what he always dreads.

Hugo flips the phone back open with a sigh. ]

I don't disagree with that. Even if I think there's goodness within them, it doesn't change the fact that they're comfortable cowards. And in their cases? Traitors as well.

[ Even without knowing the full story, the basic beats are enough. Silco and Vander had shared a vision for change, just like Hugo and Lycaon. But they'd both been left behind. That vision for change wasn't strong enough in them, clearly. It still stings for Hugo all these years later, so he's more than certain it's the same for Silco. ]

I'm curious, though. Why "monster" in particular?

Edited 2025-10-27 00:37 (UTC)

Because they are beautiful, grand things.

[ Oh... here we go, Hugo. You get the speech. ]

Monsters are forces of nature. Terrible, powerful. Things that exist to destroy the status quo and leave society's wreckage in its place. They must become powerful to survive. People look upon them in fear, and they are worthy of it, but they fear nothing. They refuse to let anything stop them, in the end.

How great and terrible they are.

[ HE says monster because he admires them. ]

No wonder. Knowing that you admire them makes much more sense. And perhaps I'm just a little cowardly myself. Honestly, I don't want to be looked upon in fear. It's why I turned to thievery rather than assassination, though I have the skills for the latter. If I strike fear into anyone's heart, I want it to be some rich bastard that's afraid I'll pilfer their Dennies. Something ultimately meaningless. And yet. I've been doing that work for years with little change to show for it. Petty changes and popularity with the people isn't as much as I'd hoped.

[ There's a pause, since this is opening up something bitter within himself to even ask, and he'd never dare share the full context. But. He repeats his father's words that he's never forgotten for a day. It's been on his mind more lately since he'd died, because it's exactly the sort of hostility that his Spectral friend stokes. ]

Someone once told me that only the most ruthless, cruel, and unscrupulous of people ever make it to the top. A monster.

That is all that succeeds, in the end.

[ Oh, how he knows that one. Understands it. Is that not the truth in all things? Is that not a lesson he once learned? ]

I learned a secret a long while ago. That the only one that succeeds, in the end. It is not the strongest or the smartest. It is the one that can do anything to see their goals made manifest.

Only a monster can do that, at the cost of everything else. It is what we must do, if we wish to change the world. Otherwise, who wins? The ones who degrade us, put us in our places? The ones who have no scruples about throwing people into mines or profiting from their work or deaths. The ones who can look upon us as lesser, and do what they wish, because nobody has shown the power to stop them.

If there was a world where this did not exist... It has likely already fallen. Look at even this world.

[ There’s another delay before Hugo responds. In fact, this one is enough for him to have to mull over that he gets up and pours himself a glass of wine. It’s not a happy thing to read, or rather, to realize.

Maybe his father’s philosophy was right.

It doesn’t mean he forgives the man or even acknowledges it fully, because there’s still no doubt that he was an awful, evil person. The hell that he’d put all of his children through was proof enough of that, to say nothing of the Ravenlock family’s actual work in TOPS. Hugo would never accept his philosophy when pointed that way. It only brought more suffering into the world, and it’s why every single member of his family deserved their terrible death in the Hollow.

But it still gave Hugo a drive that he knew was unique. Jack had balked at just how clever and ruthless Hugo could be, and Hugo had accepted that. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe it was better to hold to Jack’s principles to try and undo the suffering that he seemed primed to bring into the world.

…It’s embarrassing how much of his life had been vying for the approval of men that would never give it. Whether he was “good” or “evil”, it hadn’t mattered. ]

You know, you have a terrible habit of giving me unpleasant things to think about~.

[ He has to tease first once he gets to his reply. It feels better than being straightforwardly honest. ]

…Which is to say. You might be right. Trying to do things peacefully gave little return. I tried to live by my mentor’s philosophy of never taking another life, and it didn’t work. If anything, it’s precisely what took away my friend and partner. Do you ever regret it, Silco? Taking that sort of path?

Isn't it funny, that when you play by their rules, even still, they find you wanting?

[ He knows what it is. He knows how it is. Why bother when the end result is the same? There's no reason to try, especially when it bars him from getting what he wants, or getting in his way. ]

Why would I? The other path was barred to me, from the moment I found myself in the Pilt. Really, even the days before, I should have seen it. My days were numbered.

That path was never opened to me, and if I had taken it, I never would have found a way to get us closer to where we needed to be. So no, I do not regret it. Why would I regret what had such measurable results?

Fair enough. That's where our circumstances differ, I imagine. I've had many potential paths opened to me, but they're all of the sort where none of the options felt good. I think about those "what if"s often. More than I really enjoy, so I almost envy your confidence in the certainty of your path.

For me, they simply were never... as important as my life's work.

The certainty comes from seeing the injustice, Hugo. Watching it happen every day. What do I care about murder, when we rot from breathing too much gas, or starve to death? What is one more death, when stacked against the piles of bodies I had to throw in the Pilt when they shot us on the bridge between our cities?

Certainty comes with suffering. Be happy that you have the ability to choose.

🎀

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