Aslin: The Survivor

It has been three years since the Darkbringer killed the last pure human. Three years and already he seeks me out. He knows that I'm still alive. That I'm the one killing his Elites. No other creature would try. The forest has long since become my home. But he is expanding his reach even farther into my sanctuary. Infecting the waters and plant life. I wonder if he even knows the extent of my transformations since I escaped. My right arm has been replaced by a scythe-like appendage beginning at my elbow. It has been stained by the blood of his warriors, which only furthered my changes. My wings grew out, so much so that I can wrap them around myself as a vampire would a cape. I never fly anymore though, for risk of exposing myself to his aerial patrols. I simply wait for him to send me more Elites, more blood. With the blood comes change, and with change comes power. Soon I will be strong enough to storm his Empire's gates. Then I shall have my revenge. When I am the last one of his creations alive. The last victim robbed of my humanity and reduced to drinking the blood of my kin. Then I shall have my revenge. When I am the last surviving proof of the Darkbringer's reign of darkness, this war will be over, and I can finally die.

I Wasn't Always This Way

I wasn't always like this. I wasn't always a killer, I wasn't always thief. I used to be a door-to-door salesman. I sold tooth-brushes. Not just any tooth-brushes though, these were the best. My own design, you could position the head any way you wanted. Then you turn it on, put toothpaste on it, and you were ready. But I'm assuming you know how to brush your teeth, so I don't need to tell you. Anyway, I was on a new street, I had hit every house but one. It was this big, Gothic looking, haunted house type mansion. Not one to be stopped by an iron gate, I pushed it open and walked up the path to the door. I wasn't scared when I saw the collection of headstones in the front yard, I wasn't scared when I saw the Gargoyles eyes light up red as I walked by. It was when I knocked on the door and was met with the most hideous looking man I had ever seen, then I was scared. Not the last time I would feel fear, that comes later. I quickly went through my introduction, just as I did a million times before, and the man smiled at me, shot me in the shoulder with a tranquilizer dart, and dragged my body inside. I awoke sometime around seven at night from what the Doctor told me. He introduced himself only as The Doctor, and instructed that I was to call him nothing else until the "surgery" was finished. He began with my left arm, chopping it off with a large axe at the elbow. The strangest part, was that I didn't feel it. He gave me no drugs, nothing to render me unconscious, just chopped it right off. There was no blood either. the two us should have been covered in the dark red liquid, but not a single drop fell from my new amputation.
"Amazing," I head the doctor say, "Simply amazing! Bernerd, the formula works!"
I didn't speak, I simply stared at what was left of my arm.
"And not a single fracture in the bone, amazing!" The Doctor continued.
'What the hell have you done to me!" I said at last.
"I have made you permanently immune to the human condition." He said, expecting me to understand what he meant.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you will not bleed, your bones will not break, and extreme force is required to break your skin. Basically, you are invincible. Now we begin phase two." He explained with a triumphant smile on his face. I dind't know then what he had in mind for me, I wish I still didn't know.
I spent three years in that crazy Doctors lab, undergoing several experiments. Everytime I lost a limb, it was replaced by a biometal that he injected into my system to speed up my healing. I soon found that I could morph these limbs into anything I wanted using my control over the biometal in my system. I began to plot my escape. I destroyed hundreds of that Doctors machines in the process, until finally I got to him. The last thing standing between me and the good Doctor was the monster of a man Bernerd. The freak who I first met in this place.
"You not allowed to touch Mr.Doctor" Bernerd said.
"It speaks! And no more intelligently than the dog I had as a child." I comment as I drive a spear-like hand into his chest. He was probably the easiest thing to kill in the mansion. I walked towards the doctor, my "hands" covered in oil and blood.
"Come to kill me already? I would have though two more days maybe, but so soon?" The Doctor said with a smile.
"You knew you couldn't keep me in that cell. Not after giving me the biometal."
"Poor fool." The last thing I saw was the Doctor pointing a strange looking gun right in my face.
"And there goes another project. He was sure to survive this time." I hear him say.
"Poor fool" I mimic his voice as my body builds back up. I cannot see him, only hear. I need not go into detail about what happens next, but I'll let your imaginations take flight to come up with their own ending for the Doctor. I make my living as a proffessional killer now. But I wasn't always like this..

F.N.G.

"Yo New Guy!" I hear a voice call out. I don't respond at first, and it continues. I ignore them until I get a smack upside the head from John who points and says "They're talkin' to you Ralph." At least one of them knows my name.
"Whaddya want Rico?" I ask impatiently.
"For you to learn yer goddam name." He replies with a grin.
"Whatever."
"HQ says you're on patrol tonight, figure they'll send out some fresh meat for the Reapers."
The Reapers are what we call the mutants that come out from the sewers at night. There was a petition going around a few years ago to send one of our Elite teams down there to exterminate them all, but the council blew it off saying that it would take too much time and money to organize.
"Fantastic. When's my shift start?" I asked as I walked towards my locker.
"Ya got 15 minutes New Guy, suit up and get out there. Bone will meet you at the gate." Rico answered with a smile. And why wouldn't he? Jackson Bone was possibly the dumbest guard in the city, hell, maybe even the union.
I walk towards the Titan locker. The Titan suit is the most important piece of equipment in a guards arsenal, well, besides his gun. As I finally put on the helmet, finishing the suit. I walk to my locker again to grab MY gun. I don't use the guns that the guard union issues us, I prefer to bring my own. Custom made using the parts from a standard issue RX Pheonix 8 flamethrower, combined it with the TF Kronos 1 assualt rifle, and the result I call The Smoker. Rounds are doused in lighter fluid in the barrel, then the flame at the end causes the rounds to (obviously) burst into flames.
"Yo Bone!" I call out when I get to the gate.... No answer.
"Hey! Bone-head! You out here?" No answer.
"Better not be fucking with me Bone!" Still nothing. I don't need him anyway. He'd just mess everything up. I activate the the gate control to open it up. I activate my CO2 converter. It works on synthetic photosynthesis. All the buildings have bulk converters, after the last of the rainforests died off, standard plants weren't too long to follow. The big companies created the converters to keep the human species alive, if they had know that most of us would mutate, and the rest of us would spend our lives hunting them, they wouldn't have done that.
As the gate opens up, I'm met with a flood of mutants. Firing blindly, I run towards the lift to try to get back to HQ. I barely make it. I can feel the mutants holding on to the cables that are keeping the lift suspended. The lift stops just short of the door. I open the emergency escape above my head, only to be met with the most hideous face I've ever seen. It seems that this lift is going to be where I make my final stand. I didn't spend 5 years on all those special special ops missions to be ripped apart in an old elevator shaft by freaks. I get The Smoker ready, wiring her backup cords into my suits helmet, checking the level of fluid in my tanks, ammunition, extra clips. Reminds me of the HUD of a first person shooter. I laugh at this small joke. That might be my last laugh. What would Rico say now... He's probably watching me shoot down all these things with my custom weapon thinking "Fuckin' New Guy"...

The Gladiator

Shame, Shame. For you are to blame.
We're sick of playing your twisted games.
Games of darkness, games of death.
You make us play till we breathe our last breath.
You make us perform, you make us fight.
You make sure we never see the light.
The light that for so long we have been denied.
The light that you knew you could never hide.
Now we're coming for you, and we're coming fast.
You knew that your rule would never last.
Now my army fights yours, hear their swords ring.
And soon from the end of a noose you will swing.
You're on your knees, begging for forgiveness.
You enslaved us and expect us to forgive this?
Now my friend, it is your turn to play.
To fight for your life with lions all day.
Now we rule this city, you can't deny.
That once we begin, you would much rather die.

This is an edited version. I might post another Darkbringer story today, so be sure to check later.

Later Drones.
-The Virus

Nightmare

Black sky. Blood moon. A scream echoes from somewhere in the distance. This is my town, plenty different from yours. Blazing sunlight. Skyscrapers. Music being played in a park. No, nothing like that. There you have order, laws, police. There your children can play in the streets without being taken by some unseen stranger. Yes, what a perfect little world. What a scene, something right out of a dream. But not in my town. Here we have no laws, no order, no police. Here your children would be killed and raped by the very people you live with. Here, chaos and destruction prevail. Here, crime goes without punishment. Here people die slowly as they burn for entertainment. Here people are tortured for fun. Here is where true devils carry out their sick twisted deeds. And even sadder, we are the people that your town needs. For we are the reason your laws were created. We whose sick minds would not be sedated. We who have been exiled from your world, wish only to return. To give you something to fear at night. To draw from your fear our own delight. We who have slaughtered and killed your friends, have now returned.

So let's begin...

This is one of my pieces that I posted to allpoetry.com, so as far as I've been told, it's got an automatic copyright on it. Or something like that.

Later Drones.

-The Virus

Killed in the name of the Gods (Darkbringer pt.4)

I watch the bodies being lowered into the sacrificial pit. Killed "in the names of the Gods", or so the cities government would like them to believe. The bodies being lowered were not killed in the name of any God, they were my children. Killed to send me a message, that my kind will not be tolerated in this town. My daughters, my sons. They spare the mothers, to make them watch as our children are executed and sacrificed. The human species views us as monsters, yet they kill without real reason. They kill because of how we look. They slaughter and cage us because they are afraid. I killed the Ryders because of what they did. I helped these people, and this is how they thank me? They view me and my children as demons, abominations. Yet we wish only to live as they do. Until now, this pathetic race called humanity had no reason to fear, but now they have killed a family of mine. A daughter, bearing another if my children. And a son, destined to be a general in my army. I have thousands of children, they think the murder of two and an unborn is going to protect them? My anger fuels me, I return to our colony, and tell my generals to prepare the warhorses. These beasts are results of a generation of twisted bestial evolution. We march on the Kingdom of Efferna at sunset, I must prepare to lead my army to battle.



I have a question to go along with this, are the lives of one family really worth the death of thousands? Think about it.



-The Virus

Cursed Writer

Death, murder, killing. The three words I can't get out of my head. The urge to write them, to say them, is always there. Like an ever present tumor of the brain. My cancer that is slowly eating me from the inside out. My curse, the curse of my writing. A dark force that demands my attention and takes control of my senses. Forcing me to write about the sins that people commit. The corruption of the human heart. As long as we are here, my inspiration cannot die, and because of it, I am damned.