Before Rapture, Miguel had been a scientist. He’d been a brother (albeit not a very good one), a son (even if only in the most technical sense of the word). He’d been a fiance who tried his hardest even if it rarely seemed enough, a friend who made at least some kind of an effort to be there for the people who loved him, the people he loved in return. Before Rapture, Miguel had been a person. But after? Addiction carved a hole in your life. It held everything you were by the throat, stripped away every part of you. When you were an addict, it became very hard to be anything else. You stopped answering your brother’s calls. You didn’t make any kind of an attempt to visit your mother. You snapped at your fiance for daring to express concern in your direction, you ignored your friends until they gave up on you entirely. Addiction was a stingy thing — it wanted to be the only thing in your life that mattered. And it was hard not to let it.
It was hard to get away from it, too. It was something Miguel had learned the hard way. He’d nearly killed himself getting out from under Rapture. He’d changed his DNA to keep the withdrawal from killing him, he’d turned himself into a monster to make sure he could physically survive without the drug, and there were days he still had to lock himself inside his apartment because he knew if he stepped out that door, he’d find a dealer. Addiction wasn’t something that ever left you alone entirely. Miguel knew Roy had learned that, too.
Roy’s hand was off his shoulder, but Miguel swore the weight of it was still there, so much heavier than it should have been. Those words hung over him like an anvil in the bad twencen cartoons Xina had shown him, ready to drop and flatten him into the dirt. Hero. It was a laughable term. Miguel had never been that, not even once. Nothing he’d ever done had been with heroism in mind. He became Spider-Man to kick his own addiction. He became a vigilante to show Alchemax where they could shove it. Everything he’d ever done was selfish. Even his continued heroism was little more than trading a Rapture addiction for an adrenaline addiction, a desperate attempt to get his heart racing in any way he could. “Don’t thank me,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.” Don’t believe in me, don’t make me into something better than what I am, don’t try to turn me into something good. He laughed at Roy’s question, bitter and too loud. “I’ve seen it happen, Roy. More than once. It’s —” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It happens once, that’s a tragedy. Twice, you chalk it up to coincidence. Three times or more, that’s what makes a pattern. That’s the scientific way of thinking about it, right? And it’s been more than that.” How many people were dead because of him? Sims, Delgato, the Specialist, the Thorite whose name he’d never even learned, Kenny, Angela, Dana… The list grew every time he tried to do something decent. He was good at making things worse.
Who was Roy before Heroin? Sometimes he doesn’t remember a time before the substance had taken control of his life. He was just a kid and should have been worrying about playing the newest video game instead of finding his next fix. He felt like it was more important to sneak out when his father had been on patrol or off doing something with the Justice League. It always felt like the perfect time to head out to spend his hard-earned money on whatever his dealer would sell him. Roy likes to believe that he is more than just an addict. He was a father to his little girl, who was his motivation to stay clean and sober. He doesn’t want to give in to any of his temptations. Roy was an older brother to his sister and brother. They were close family always looking out for each other and going on patrol together. Mia had always been the primary babysitter for Lian. He was also a son, might not be by blood but he was Oliver and Dinah’s boy. Roy was ten years old when welcomed into their lives.
He was much more than being an addict. He was surrounded by many friends who care about him, even if this isn’t his own universe. Roy is forever grateful for such things because it meant not being alone. Even when that little voice in the back of his mind tries to argue against the truth — he feels like maybe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel after all. Roy wants to be seen as a hardworking engineer and father before what his past actions were. Although, addiction stains your reputation and maybe would always follow you in some way. Roy understands that and so does Miguel. It doesn’t mean that’s all they are though — they can be so much more if you try enough.
Tragedy seems to be something that would always follow them around like a shadow. Roy had been too young at the time when his birth father passed away — sacrificing himself to save the Navajo who lived nearby. He had fallen asleep outside waiting for him to return, except that he never did. Roy would be raised with the tribe as one of their own. Brave Bow — his foster father would be killed by police officers who trespassed on their land. The second time he learned of the tragedy and his foster brother distancing himself after was the third time. Everything happens according to what fate has in the cards for you but Roy wonders if you can change it. If you can choose something different than what they have prepared for you. “I kind of already did though? It’s hard to take it back once I’ve already said it.” He says this with a light tone to his voice, but keeps a serious expression on his face. Maybe some people don’t want to be good but that doesn’t mean Roy won’t try to believe in him anyway. Even if he doesn’t say those things they make Miguel uncomfortable. “When it keeps happening that does tend to form a pattern, correct.” His voice goes silent and tries to think of a way to communicate how he feels about this. “I’m not going to agree that I think you’re some awful guy if that’s what you’re implying because I don’t believe that. I’m too hopeful, I guess.”
snowghoul
kaledo-art
theartofmadeline
prguitarman
janainaart
gummygunk
romaincrisis
tangentwithtanner
titsay