( Implied By Ourple Mike ) - Tumblr Posts
"Oh, spawn of the creator~" Glitchtrap muses as it kicks its legs while sitting upon the countertop, "Do you really think you'll be something more than just a shadow of him?"
IT KIND OF FEELS LIKE BEING SCOOPED. AGAIN. Michael’s breath ( unneeded ) catches in his ( torn ) throat, and something ugly ( childish ) holds his tongue for a moment too long. The rabbit sure knows where to kick a dog when it’s already down, and Michael has barely recovered from the nasty surprise of seeing it in the first place. For a moment, he’s sixteen again – tall, but never as tall as his father – strong, but never as strong as his father – trying so hard to be good, but never good enough – and lost for words. All he can do is stare at the glitch for a torturous second, before laughing. Harsh, rough. Resigned.
They’re the same, aren’t they ? Both created by him. The thought is laden and sour in his throat when he speaks:
“ I guess he didn’t have time to code you with some kind of command to shut the fuck up. ” Not that Michael really thinks his father would have done that anyway. He always seemed to like the sound of his own voice too much. But he’s bitter, brash with his next words. “ I’m literally nothing like him – ” ANYMORE. “ – and hey, look who’s still standing. It’s sure not him. ”
That, at least, makes him smile, even if it is a hollow victory. Steps forward, despite all instinct, towards the rabbit, his upturned lips mocking and hard, and adjusts the mask so it can see his scarred grin.
“ At the end of the day, I’m the one that survived. Guess the world really wants me to eradicate every last memory, every shadow, of him, huh ? ” And Glitchtrap is next, if he doesn’t shut up. Deep down, a part of him still itches for a bit of destructive violence, and even if smashing up a computer monitor won't hurt it, it sure as hell would feel good.