Daydreamer

I stare down at the math work in front of me. College grade, simple, boring. The teachers machine-like voice droning on about how horrible her students are. The world melts away to reveal it was all fake, a simulation created by some alien technology. They begin to speak in some strange gargling language, yet I understood every word.

"We're not getting anything out of this one, let's dump him with the others."

A hatch opens at my feet and I fall. Claws sprout from my fingers and dig into the wall of the chute. Digging in to the wall I start to climb back up. I emerge into the light of the forest, those damn trappers caught me by accident. They approach me, guns firing in sequence with their steps and heartbeats. Bullets bounce off my metallic skin, one hits a trapper in the head and he falls to the ground. The other is left to me. He drops his weapon and begins to run, the desert sand slowing him down and filling his shoes. I walk calmly behind, loading my gun. The last soldier. The last life that needs to end in this war. After this, it's over. He trips and falls, spits sand out of his mouth, and turns around to see me standing over him. I raise my sword, and plunge it into his chest. My quest for revenge starts here, with the death of my murderer. The organization behind the experiments on my daughter thought I was dead after they sent that assassin. They were sorely mistaken, you can't kill a vampire with anything less than a beheading. As I watch his blood flow out of the open wound, I struggle to restrain myself. When he looks up I jump back, sword drawn and ready.

"Wake up James, it's your turn to answer." the corpse tells me.

"Answer what demon? I have little patience for riddles."

"James! Wake up!"

I quickly look up and see the teacher glaring at me from across the classroom. Damn these dreams.

The Dream

"SOLDIER GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!!!" I awake to the screaming of a man in green combat armor, holding his helmet in one arm and a balancing a gun in the other. I jump out of my cot and grab my guitar. Blue, stained with the blood of thousands of enemies, and yet it still plays like new. I put on my suit and run into the battlefield as my guitars form shifts into that of a gun. Pulling it apart into two identical firearms, I blast away at the first two machines that cross my path, hot oil covering my arms and chest as their mechanical limbs explode in a storm of hot metal and lead. I flip a switch on my guns and slam them back together as a blade sprouts from the barrel of what was once the finest gun in the library. Slashing through the forest to get at my enemy I am reminded again of what it means to be the Hero. The man I trusted most in this world, the man who taught me everything I know, is now my greatest adversary. Killing my father was acceptable, for he was a vile man and deserved what he got, but killing Elizabeth was to set an example. One that I hated him for. Years of serving in his army, of learning every tactic he employed, I was ready to make my move. I slam to the ground as something attacks me from above. Rolling over I see the bastard brother of my Heroic father. The bane of the colonies, my Uncle. Is this how it all ends? After spending a lifetime in a prison for a crime I didn't commit, a lifetime of training for this moment, I am to be wiped off the map by a sneak attack? No, I kick my unholy Uncle's legs out from under him and spring on top. Shooting off his hands and feet with my energy blasts, I am faced with a decision, do I kill the innocent boy, or turn my back on this life of hatred? I am the most wanted man in all of the galaxy, it's not too late to turn myself in. No, using my powers of creation I restore the boys limbs, smiling as he stands from his wheelchair. I turn to see the crowds cheering. The savior of the U.S. they call me. All of this made possible by a freak accident in my underground lab. Years I was kept in a glass dome, studied by the worlds greatest minds. The biblical, ethical, and political effects of letting me live were too great, so they thought to eliminate me. Tearing my limbs from my body, and burning them in hopes that they had finally killed the Wizard. These people are failures, and they deserve what is coming to them. Using my last bit of magic before my life ended, I called upon the forces of nature to reap my revenge. My arms and legs severely burned, I hear my love calling my name.

"James! James wake up!" I hear her, barely.

"Jane, Jane is that you?"

"Wake up James, it's time for school."

Oh shit, it was all a dream. Sliding out of bed I see burn marks on the ceiling, new scars all over my chest and god knows how many on my back. Burns on my arms, the palms of my hands are black and crackling with electricity. Looking at my face in the mirror I see my eyes are now a dark red. What happened last night?

Later Drones.

Failure (Darkbringer Chronicles)

It has been three weeks since my failure in battle. For three weeks I have been in this hole. Laughed at and pissed on by the creatures that now rule this and the neighboring kingdoms. The remaining humans have formed small colonies in the forests, hiding from the demons. They will not try to save me, this is my punishment for my failure to my people. To rot in this damned hole, kept alive by their magic. Unable to starve, unable to die. They have named me, as if I were their pet. I suppose I am. They call me "Aslin", demon dog. That is a true insult, compared to the atrocities they call dogs. Two nights ago I began to notice a change in my body. My skin turning a dark shade of black, as if burned over a fire, my left hand became clawed. I fear I am becoming one of them. If this is further torture than they have gone to far, or is this just a side effect of the magic they use to keep me alive? Either way, death is preferred. I just need to wait, to plan, I must escape.

So, anybody dislike where they think I'm going with this? You don't know. Maybe you do. I plan on posting a post from the Darkbringer's point of view later today. Check back later Drones.

-The Virus

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

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