Navy: 18

Iliad (Ily): 6

It was all going downhill, and Navy was getting crushed by the rock. His dad was simply gone; either having a panic attack and shutting down up in his room or trying to keep himself together at Mom's side at the hospital. Not that Navy really cared one way or another, or even that his mother was dying. He didn't really feel things like other people did. Or maybe the better way to describe it was that he didn't show emotion the way other people did, because he felt things just fine. He had never had any close personal connections with anyone, feeling all their relationships would be forced because Navy was rich, and the other person obviously just wanted a piece of that. And that's why animals were his saving grace, because they didn't understand anything about money and wanted his love more than anything.

Navy could care less if you hurt him. But if you hurt his cat? You'd have Hell to pay. Ily was the only thing remotely close to family; Ily was always there, always willing to listen, and always cheering him up, which was tons more than any actual family did for Navy. But Ily was also a cat, and it was never to be expected that he would not ditch Navy and his feelings for a bag of treats.

Navy was, to be frank, a terrible buisnessman. He had trained for the position his whole life, even though it was wholly unecessary, the only thought behind it being that maybe his father would see some worth in him and take him under his wing, teaching him the intricacies of running the company. The truth of the situation was the furthest from that, however, because his father still did not give a crap about him even though he was destroying the company, all of Navy's life work ultimately resulting in failure.

But that was ok, right? After all, their competition was fall apart right alongside them. After Sun's death, it was apparent from the frequent broadcasts of plauge wiping through countries and cutting populations in half that both Dusk Co. and Dawn Inc. were basically destroying humanity with their inability to succeed. It wasn't like Navy hadn't tried to get his powers to work. He had. Like two times. Because the way he saw it, the world's problems were not his problems because the world hadn't done crap for him as his father had relentlessly beat on him for showing no promise. Navy's mental state was crippled, his back scarred and destroyed, but his resolve was hardly broken, and he was determined to destroy the world.

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"Ily!" he shouted through his wing of the company, the jangle of the somali's collar making him smile, the familiar rumble of Iliad's purr under his hand calming and cleansing. "What'd'ya say we get outta here, eh Ily?" All he got was a soft meow in response as he rubbed his shedding all over Navy's legs, which Navy took as a yes, scooping up the cat and carrying him like a football throughout his wing. Navy tried his best to be discreet as possible, avoiding the staff milling around, waiting at his beck and call.

There were fewer than when he had been a child, mostly because children did stupid things and Navy was no longer susceptible to the strange childish urges that told him to go run screaming through the fountain in his best suit. And yes, part of it came with maturity. But part of it also because when Moon came home to find his son sopping wet and being withheld by security, he had taken an eight-year-old Navy into his office, and shut the door. No one knew what happened behind that door but Navy and his father, but Navy never went swimming again, and was thereby beyond petrified of doing anything against his father's will. But nonetheless, on an awful day at work, or a terrible day for his wife, Moon would take his son who looked too much like his mother into his office and close the door. And slowly, that innocent Navy that everyone at the company had loved was gone.

Ever since Sun had died, Navy had simply resigned himself to being dragged into that office every day. It was part of his routine now, and nothing his father could do hurt anymore. But Navy had never understood that there was anything wrong with it. He had never known anything else, and so how was he supposed to know that he didn't have to endure the pain? All he knew was that his father would kill him if he ever showed anyone his back. Because Navy was unessential, and even when he was eight, he knew that.

And perhaps that was part of the reason why he wanted to leave. He was tired of his father, and the pain and fear he felt every time those cold, steely silver eyes landed on him. Like he was a tool. Like he was only there to help his father let his anger out. It weighed him down, the pain and the words that Moon screamed at him, the soundproof walls keeping everything contained in that office.

Navy couldn't go on living like that. He could barely sleep anymore. He was tired of being called a failure, and tired of everyone looking up to him like he had something to prove. He was done. He didn't have time to be "famous." He just wanted to live his life.