ROYALTY / CORRUPT

Im not deleting the blog. I wanna be able to look back on stuff. And who knows if a time in the future will change things, and I wanna play mk again albeit probably at that point more canon.

It was easy to think oneself invincible. With scars to tell of times when death should have came, when old shackle rashes spoke of times a cell should be a rotting place. But still a Monarch stood, grew, ADAPTED over the time and stood out on top in the end. Even when cast down by hero or previous employees, even when dispelled from a city after a mass count of bodies fell on top of his head, IT WAS STILL THE MAD KING ON TOP!

There was no reason to think otherwise. That the clock wouldn’t keep ticking, that things would not continue as they always had. Tick tocking their way until he found a way to make the clock stop. BECAUSE ROYALTY WAS UNKILLABLE. A self crafted belief, but one he worked on enough that there should be no reason to think otherwise.

The goodbyes came in ‘see you tonight’s. Normality set in place; maybe one, maybe two, maybe a few that the King cared enough to speak daily words to. However, there was always more to spare. Not like he had to say farewell forever. That wasn’t the plot for the Monarch. That wasn’t how he planned things. AND HIS PLANS WOULD CARRY HOW HE SAW THEM. 

Even if there was temporary delays to settle on things, plans would come into fruition. Everything was but temporary, and there was always something to change that. 

                                          SO WHY THE HELL DID HE BELIEVE DIFFERENTLY?

A fool believed themselves invincible, that daily work seeped in shadows and crime wouldn’t / COULDN’T / eventually catch up to him in the end. That the world would only turn for him. But perhaps he was a fool. A careless one. So overindulgent in the routine he had set that he wasn’t willing to accept change, and the possibility of it to sweep him out of the way when it decided.

Quick enough only to see the thing come at him right before it lodged into skull / A FORK LIFTS PRONG PUSHING BETWEEN HIS EYES. The muffled sound of bones cracking, of a body made to withstand working against him. A body improved by science tried to fix what couldn’t be, leaving him alive and pronged to the wall. 

After everything that had happened, this was the finalization he got. IT WASN’T LIKE SOME IRONY TO THE THINGS HE DID, OR SOMETHING HE WOULD DEEM WORTH IT. No spectical, no show to go with this. Just a lone man impaled, blood dripping down his face and front and mouth and nose as it escaped him. Death not coming swiftly, not sweeping him away. Suffering / SHAMEFUL. Shameful in the panting, the gurgling, the noises of distress that tried to become louder and louder but the wounded dog couldn’t get very far. 

The world was sick, if there was some GOD out there they must have found this as some sick irony / SOMEONE WHO THOUGHT THEMSELVES SO SELF IMPORTANT DEAD IN SUCH A PETTY WAY. Whimpering, pain flashing across every nerve. The thought of this and the futility of attempts, perhaps the blood loss, made him do such / BUT A SMILE CROSSED LIPS. A FINAL CHUCKLE. The trademark of the villain / the killer / the monarch / THE MAD KING painted across him like the blood hinted on his hands from word of mouth.

‘I’ll see you tonight’ was his goodbyes. There had been no intentions that this meant in the news when a corpse was found impaled by a construction vehicle, but in the end