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Rumbling deep within his core, anger burned brighter than any star ever could, twisting and contorting inside him like a wildfire. It grew bigger, stronger, enraged with every moment he was forced to spend in this star-forsaken universe. Nothing could ever satisfy it. Nothing could ever dampen down the flames of revenge licking at his mind.
The yearning–the need to unleash his fury–festered within him like a parasite, stifling every thought with the resentment staining his existence. It was a curse. Existence was a sick joke, with the punchline being the sweet, sweet release of death.
The memories of those who managed to beat the system floated through his mind, jealousy striking deep within himself. Why? Why did they get freedom while he was condemned to this life? What made the others so special they were handed the key to escaping hell?
Vesta had taken too long.
His chance, an attempt at finally bidding farewell to everything he'd ever known and hated, had long passed. Eons ago, in the very beginnings of the system, he'd thought differently. His naive blindness at that time–where he wanted to stay in a world that did everything it could to murder him–cost him the chance of a lifetime. Nothing in this hell-hole was worth his time. Nothing could ever be.
The first generation of planets–the celestials that failed to survive in the harsh conditions–had the right idea. His core clenched, frustration rising up his throat like bile. He should've joined them, Boreas, Proto-Earth, Theia, and all the other ones who'd left the system behind for something greater.
Back then, death was a threat that greeted you around every corner. It was inescapable, a constant in the ever-changing chaos of the system, lurking in the shadows to catch you by surprise. And, for the longest time, Vesta ran from it. Wrongly terrified, he fled from the darkness with the foolish thought that it would get better–that he would find something to fight for. A friend, family, something so small and insignificant and yet would've meant the world to him.
It never came.
Around him, the system grew and changed, developing new celestials that had each other. The new generations of planets, who formed their own, tinier planets around them–moons. What started off as barely a handful, their numbers multiplied, expanding throughout the system like tiny, mewling parasites.
And Vesta, young and mad, thought that he'd found the thing to keep him here. The beauty of life, of something surviving in the dark, empty void of space, took his breath away. He watched, with eyes wide in awe, as the creatures grew into their own flourishing individuals.
Throughout this, Vesta and his fellow asteroids remained the most numerous, with over a million of them spread out across the lands.
He'd thought that was something special, something that made him different from the others and allowed him to stand out from the crowd.
Oh how wrong he was.
The one, desperate thread keeping him from erasing himself from existence turned on him, stabbing him in the back like he hadn't shown so much love and admiration to the Solar System.
Despite their numbers–despite being everywhere and having more than enough mass to cause mass extinctions for Earth's fragile little creatures–all the asteroids' existence went completely ignored. The high and mighty planets treated them like toys, murdering his kin for the sake of their sick games and entertainment. They laughed as they used the corpses of his fellow asteroids like playthings, tossing their crumbling bodies back and forth.
And with no mouths to scream in agony, with no eyes to plead mercy, the vicious slaughter continued.
The stronger ones, like himself, Pallas, Hygiea, and that traitorous asteroid-turned dwarf planet Ceres–the reminder of which had disgust snaking up the back of his throat–trained their gravity to work as eyes of their own. One could say it was akin to the echolocation of Earth's creatures, but he would not be compared to those weak and feeble mortals. Even as an asteroid, he was so much greater than them, fighting battles they would only dream of in their nightmares.
With nobody to protect the smaller asteroids, Vesta took it upon himself to take up the honor and serve his kind in any way he could. Quickly, the wrath he wished upon the celestials replaced the long-buried admiration he'd foolishly had of them.
For Vesta, the world was very much black and white. It was split between those who murdered poor, helpless asteroids, and those who did not. The world was divided in groups of predators and prey, and those who were the prey were forced to fight in a war of life and death against the more powerful ones who didn't even realize there was a war going on.
Life became a constant battle between survival, and falling to the hands of the star-damned planets and moons and every single celestial that attempted to kill them.
No longer did he feel any attachment to the system he was born in–the world that decided to make his life a living hell since the moment he formed. Nothing mattered when you were fighting a hopeless battle against celestials hundreds of thousands of millions times larger than you.
Vesta was done playing the universe's sick and twisted games. He was done living a life in fear and misery, plagued by the inability to do anything to stop the monsters picking them off one by one. Their ignorance of the asteroids' lives, the recklessness in dealing with other alive celestials and just executing them for no reason–it had spiraled out of control. There was no way to stop the waves of death and tragedy befallen upon the asteroid kind.
The legends of Guillermo provided a clue of a way to escape, but Vesta would rather be used as an ice pack than to grovel at the feet of a planet. Guillermo was an outlier, a glitch in the system that took advantage of the opportunity given to him. The stories had the possibility of not even being true! A fabled myth, created by some outer-edge, Kuiper Belt asteroids that got bored of their existence and decided to spread some trouble.
Whether it was true or not, one thing was clear.
There had to be a way to escape.
One would say the easiest route was to be one of the unlucky ones picked for a game of asteroid dodgeball, killed from the impact or torn apart by their gravity. But no, no that would be submitting to the planets and allowing them to continue dictating his life, even after death. The planets would win, and everything Vesta had ever fought for would be in vain.
Every idea that came to Vesta had its consequences he would rather not face. If he chose to follow the thought of throwing himself into the Sun, he risked the threat of being caught by one of the planets, which brought him back to his previous conundrum. Colliding with another asteroid had its benefits and sounded promising, but that presented the problem of convincing another to agree to it. And even if Vesta was ready to greet death and leave everything behind (and had been for a long while), some of the others were less enthusiastic about the idea.
He could just force it, collide with someone random and get it over with, but then would he really be any different than the blood-thirsty, ruthless planets? Would he become what he'd fought so hard against in his last moments? When his true colors were finally revealed, was that what he was?
No. Not for Vesta. Never.
So, after careful deliberation and elimination of his choices, it left him with one, final desperate idea.
Go down. As far as he could manage until his surroundings gave way to complete and utter darkness, the warmth of the star's light yet another distant memory. Escape the torture, break free from the loop and manage to die alone, in the ice-cold expanse of empty space.
Yes, yes that would work. It may take an eternity to get to the point of freedom, but at least this was by his own hands. At least he got to choose his final resting place, unlike so many of those before him. He would always remember them from the never ending fight and determination they had. Their sacrifice would not be in vain, he would avenge all those before him by taking his autonomy back from the clutches of the ruthless planets.
Now, he just had to–
"Ceres! Hey, where'd you go silly? We can play hide and seek after the Dungeons and Dwarf Planets session!"
…Ugh, of course it was them, the dwarf planets and fancy their little club. Vesta was almost a dwarf planet–almost being the keyword here, because his life was just one giant mass of "almosts." So close to achieving everything he wanted, and yet the universe thought it would be funny to rip it away from his desperate fingertips. Again and again and again.
Gravity rippled around him, warning Vesta of the incoming threats heading towards him. But no anger, sadness, or grief filled his mind–no, he was just tired. Tired of living, tired of fighting, tired of everything. Exhausted annoyance washed over him, and with a sigh that went unheard to the giant demons around him, he settled down to wait just a bit longer.
Wheezing pants reached his ears, and Vesta didn't need to check with his gravity to know it was Ceres. That disgusting creature dared to come close to him, after betraying their kind and turning to the planets to become one of them–it angered him beyond the capability of words to describe it. Incredible, it was yet another complete joke thrown at him, twisting his life into a horrifying comedy.
The traitor encircled Vesta, a predator hunting its prey.
Another source of gravity pushed into the area, soft and kind in a way that sickened Vesta, "There you are! Come on, let's-a-go!"
All of a sudden, without any warning because all non-asteroids are vicious and cruel and feral animals, Vesta felt a pressure wrap around him, enveloping him whole and–
"Ceres! No! Drop it!"
Ceres did not, indeed, drop 'it.'
Vesta's horrified, desperate screams fell on deaf ears, his own gravity far too weak to fight back against the monstrous grip of the dwarf planet's maw. He struggled, writhed, and cried out in anguished pleads, begging the universe to stop this madness. To set him free to finally complete his purpose in life–to die! That's all he ever wanted! Just let him go so he can succeed in his mission!
Instead, covered in slobber and failed dreams, Vesta remained a hostage to Ceres as he bounded away, heading off towards the distant Kuiper Belt and destroying any hope Vesta ever had of success.
Why, Vesta thought, helpless to stop his abduction, why must the torture never end?