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[ 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.

You're right, of course. I try to never forget that even with my personal hardships, I still come from an upbringing of privilege.

[ go woke white boy go ]

But as usual, you've given me a lot to think about, so thank you. I'm sorry again for being too candid about your identity as well. Until next time~

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