Land of the Setting Sun
??/??/???? - ???
I dug my fingers into his eyes, ripping them out by the ocular nerves and casting them against the stones, where they settled with a wet 'plop'. He screamed in pain and I released him, stumbling around blindly, scratching at his empty eye sockets with frantic hands. I let him suffer in the darkness for a moment, before deciding he'd had enough, giving him a kick off the building. His head bounced off the stones below, and he laid there, unmoving.
I stepped back, admiring my handiwork. Somehow that seemed, right.
Standing alone in the desolate town of Miyazaki, I realized I really had nothing to lose, and so I began walking back to the shelter to finish what I had started. It took no time at all, I flew over the landscape at a breakneck speed, injuries not slowing me down. There was a small band of scavengers wandering the wasteland to the left, so I made a quick detour. I was on them before they could even raise their guns, taking the first one out by pushing his jaw straight back while holding the back of his neck, snapping his spine like a bent straw. He collapsed immediately, and I moved to the next man, who'd raised his gun at me, a look of fierce determination in his eyes. I grabbed the barrel of his gun, shoving it under his chin and pressing his own finger against the trigger.
The gun fired, but I didn't stop to watch. I seamlessly moved to the next scavenger, fingers and arms flying and tearing limbs like I was born for combat. It didn't feel good, but it did feel justified. They fell like dominos, lifeless bodies scattered amongst the dirt. I began running again, towards the shelter, which now seemed closer than before.
I never did reach the shelter.
More groups of scavengers cropped up along the way: crowds of four or five, slow, easy to eviscerate prey. Engaged in brutal combat, I fought for days and nights across the irradiated land, until time no longer meant anything to me. I was an agent of war, and I would eventually avenge my fallen brothers and sisters.
----------
A sharp smile broke on the face of Archbishop Daniels. He'd bred the ultimate killing machine with just the tools and resources provided to him from the most desolate environment in human history. God truly provided all the means he required. It was no mere luck that had steered those Americans to his shores. No, someone had made that choice, the Almighty had made that choice.
The power of the forsaken land had been harnessed in his fist for the first time, and he was prepared to unleash its wrath upon Korea, and more ambitiously perhaps, the world. Time, and the amount of suitable bodies, would be the decider. He continued to smile, for he was confident in who was making the decisions.
I dug my fingers into his eyes, ripping them out by the ocular nerves and casting them against the stones, where they settled with a wet 'plop'. He screamed in pain and I released him, stumbling around blindly, scratching at his empty eye sockets with frantic hands. I let him suffer in the darkness for a moment, before deciding he'd had enough, giving him a kick off the building. His head bounced off the stones below, and he laid there, unmoving.
I stepped back, admiring my handiwork. Somehow that seemed, right.
Standing alone in the desolate town of Miyazaki, I realized I really had nothing to lose, and so I began walking back to the shelter to finish what I had started. It took no time at all, I flew over the landscape at a breakneck speed, injuries not slowing me down. There was a small band of scavengers wandering the wasteland to the left, so I made a quick detour. I was on them before they could even raise their guns, taking the first one out by pushing his jaw straight back while holding the back of his neck, snapping his spine like a bent straw. He collapsed immediately, and I moved to the next man, who'd raised his gun at me, a look of fierce determination in his eyes. I grabbed the barrel of his gun, shoving it under his chin and pressing his own finger against the trigger.
The gun fired, but I didn't stop to watch. I seamlessly moved to the next scavenger, fingers and arms flying and tearing limbs like I was born for combat. It didn't feel good, but it did feel justified. They fell like dominos, lifeless bodies scattered amongst the dirt. I began running again, towards the shelter, which now seemed closer than before.
I never did reach the shelter.
More groups of scavengers cropped up along the way: crowds of four or five, slow, easy to eviscerate prey. Engaged in brutal combat, I fought for days and nights across the irradiated land, until time no longer meant anything to me. I was an agent of war, and I would eventually avenge my fallen brothers and sisters.
----------
A sharp smile broke on the face of Archbishop Daniels. He'd bred the ultimate killing machine with just the tools and resources provided to him from the most desolate environment in human history. God truly provided all the means he required. It was no mere luck that had steered those Americans to his shores. No, someone had made that choice, the Almighty had made that choice.
The power of the forsaken land had been harnessed in his fist for the first time, and he was prepared to unleash its wrath upon Korea, and more ambitiously perhaps, the world. Time, and the amount of suitable bodies, would be the decider. He continued to smile, for he was confident in who was making the decisions.
