Wilbur knows he's always had a few screws loose.

He's always been 'too possessive' of his things, resorting to violence when people try to take them. It's not his fault, they should just not touch his belongings. It's not his fault they made him use siren voice on them.

Wilbur doesn't get it. He doesn't have to share, they're his things.

as he got older, his possessiveness just got worse, turning from objects and belongings to people.

His younger brother, Techno, was his, just as he was Techno's. Philza, his father, was the same. They belonged to each other, no matter what.

Wilbur didn't need friends, he just needed them. He didn't care about other people. And it was fine for Techno and Philza to have their own friends or relationships, as long as family came first.

and it always did.

life was good. It was perfect. Techno, Philza and Wilbur rule the criminal underground and overground. Deimos, Phobos and Ares.

No one could contest them. Heroes could do nothing against their abilities. They're all simply to weak.

Except one.

Theseus.

And oh, how Wilbur adores them.

A vigilante who had been running around without a license for about four years now, going toe to toe with the Syndicate with snarky comments and powerful, dangerous hits.

it's intoxicating, knowing Wilbur could get hurt by this vigilante's hand.

He's the only one who can keep up, and Wilbur wants. He wants Theseus for himself, to catch the sly little fox and keep him.

For him to belong to all of them. it's an itch Wilbur just can't scratch and it's getting on.his.nerves.

The urge to force Theseus to stay with just a simple command was strong, but unfortunately his power has never worked well on the vigilante.

no matter though. Wilbur can be patient.

Theseus will come around eventually.