Short Stories/Poems

[Sekot]

From his seated position on the hard, cold floor he rose. Voices began to speak words in whisper. Unknowable, inconceivable. He held a presence about him that scared them, that caused them to chatter in absolute fear. But they stayed rooted in their position, unable to leave the room.

They could hardly look upon him and when they did they saw only darkness. His cloak swallowed the light that surrounded him, devoured it whole and bent it in every direction. A hood shrouded his face, a mask hid his jaw. He did not move, stood still as a statue, and waited.

One person stepped forward from out the crowd, fingers constantly readjusting themselves around the trigger of the rifle he wielded. The brave one took on step, the boards creaking under his weight, and took another. Closer he came to the thing, the being that inhabited the center of sacred place.

Above the bells chimed.

The fearful man lifted his rifle and aimed the barrel. He took in a deep breath and then held it, steadying himself. With a loud crack, a bullet was ejected that flew straight and true.

The shrouded man leaned backward with the force of the projectile's impact. The soldier fired again and again and again, each bullet pushing the other back further and further until he collapsed onto the floor.

The voices stopped, all was silent except for the bells that rang out far above. The ground trembled slightly with each new chime. Then in mid-chime they halted. The sound instantly died as if a switch had been pulled. Everyone stopped, many hearts skipped a beat. No one spoke, no one breathed.

The soldier took a step back, now inexplicably wary. He looked from side to side, at those faces who stared back at him with wide eyes. The temperature had become stifling, the soldier could hardly breath. With the warmth came the smell. Suddenly people began to turn away, retching whatever was in their stomachs at that moment. Such a powerful stench permeated the room, swelled up from the crumpled body. It was the smell of rot, of decay. It was the smell of putrid, weeks old death.

The body moved, though inhumanly. It rose once more but as if pulled by a string. Arms hung limply at his side. The head that was bowed suddenly lolled upward and the hood fell away. There was a gasp, one scream, as those present gazed upon the intruder.

He had no eyes. Only sockets stared emptily outward. What little flesh was still attached to the bleached skull was pallid, yellow, and dripping with some kind of viscous liquid. The mask that covered the lower part of his face almost muffled the sound of escaping air from an open mouth. The soldier heard it, felt it deep within him.

The head fell back forward until the chin was pressed against his chest. The soldier raised his gun one more time, ready to fire. But the being moved. Collapsed rather into nothing. There was a brief shimmer next to the soldier and suddenly he was there, facing into the crowd.

Before the solder could react, a skeletal hand reached out of the sleeve of the cloak and grabbed his face in an iron grip. The soldier screamed out in surprise and pain as the hand tightened its hold. There was another deep rumble that escaped from the shrouded man's throat, inhuman guttural scream. And then effortlessly he smashed the back of the soldier's head onto the wooden floor. Planks snapped and the floor gave way under the impact. The soldier did not get up.

Screams now filled the air, the bells regained their momentum but gone was the light cheerful tone. Somehow they had gained a more solemn sound, a resonant minor key. The undead man lifted his hood once more to cover his features from the outside world. Out of empty sockets he watched as those who had watched him from before began to run in every direction, many fleeing towards the wide, cast iron doors.

With a wave of his hand the doors slammed shut, closing them all off from the outside world. The stench had become unbearable, the heat had risen to desert-like temperatures. Out of his back came several long tendrils of multiple bones. Linked together, they were like whips. Those caught by them were instantly captured, unable to break free. A caustic liquid seared their flesh and ate it away until only bone remained. The gas released was toxic and soon the air was filled with noxious fumes.

One by one each person that had seen him fell, all by his own hand. As the last person dropped, the undead man released the power that had gathered and soon everything returned to normal within the large cathedral. Slowly he turned away from the mass corpses and faced the altar that had a towering cross erected behind it. He gazed upon it, mocking it with those bodies arrayed around him.

[Sekot]

"Nice job, Sekot. Nice job indeed."

The eyeless shrouded being sat upon the rooftop, arms resting upon his knees, as he watched the cathedral burn. Above the building the black smoke gathered, almost invisible in the night sky, and was the form of a laughing skull. Sekot lowered his head and laughed lightly. Wheezed rather.

"At least someone finds this funny."

Sekot turned his head just enough to look past the corner of his hood. The person standing next to him was tall, lanky, and had a boyish look about him. He could have easily passed for 15 years of age amongst these humans, but Sekot knew the truth. This person adjacent to him was ageless. Much like the undead himself. "I laugh for peace of mind, Nikolas" Sekot responded, the words rough across his cracked lips.

"You? Peace of mind?" it was his turn to laugh.

Sekot stared hard at his companion before rising to stand. He unclasped his cloak and cast it aside, allowing it to flutter to the ground. "Someone's going to find it there," Nikolas said as he peered over the edge of the roof.

Sekot merely shrugged a shoulder as he tossed his neck from side to side, causing a loud pop to go up and down his spine. He pulled at the hem of his black suit and straightened his crimson tie. Finally he readjusted his mask that covered what was left of his jaw. "Let's go," he said, taking a step forward and disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Nikolas watched him go with a smirk played across his face. He ran a hand through his tangled mess of neon red hair and followed his compatriot into oblivion.

Both reappeared outside of a large warehouse. The sky had grown cloudy, forebode of rain. There was no streetlamp that peered into their little section of abandoned industry, so darkness reigned. Without bothering to knock, Sekot opened the door and stepped into a pitch black room. Nikolas followed and shut the door behind him, cutting off what ambient light there was from the outside. "One would think we'd be sick of this after a while," Nikolas muttered.

Sekot didn't respond, instead he focused within himself and brought forth power to his sockets. They began to glow with a sickly yellowish light, illuminating the room for a brief moment before casting it all into darkness once more. "Did you catch it?" Sekot asked.

"Yeah, hold on."

Sekot felt the air pressure change slightly as Nikolas moved past him without a sound. There was a slight tick and then light appeared. The two were no longer in the warehouse but a long hall adorned with intricate designs on the walls and floor. The marble glistened underneath their feet. The tapestries that hung on the walls fluttered in a non-existent breeze.

Taking it in for but a second, the pair continued down the hall. Sekot's feet clicked loudly against the hard floor with every step. Nikolas, on the other hand, hardly made a noise. He appeared to float with every step instead.

The pair made it to the end of the hall and stopped at the pair of tall doors that barred their entrance. "Are you ready?" Nikolas asked as he stared upward.

"Not really," Sekot muttered.

Raising his hand before his face, he whispered a few words in an unintelligible language. There was a brief flash and the mask that covered his jaw extended itself magically to cover his entire face. The image was a grinning death's head, fitting for a necromancer. Nikolas reached into his jacket and pulled out a dark green clown mask that he too placed over his face. He nodded to Sekot before knocking once against the door.

There was an audible click that came from the other side and then a roaring of many gears moving in sync. With a bang, the doors split apart and then slowly opened to allow the two into the room beyond. Once over the threshold, they found themselves far above a lowered dais. Seats were arrayed around in a stadium arrangement. Below was a solitary table with one white light shining upon it.

Nikolas disappeared from Sekot's side as the undead took the many steps to take his one seat. Around him everyone else was waiting. All wore masks of differing shapes and sizes. They ranged from faces of gods, to people, to animals. All were absurd in some fashion. They all stared at Sekot, waiting.

"This calls to order the fourth meeting of the Five Worlds."

[Sekot]

I am so spent. There is nothing left to put here nothing that has not been taken and spilled and put out for the world to see. What is left but emptiness? That which is supposed to be nothing but has been named. Yes, named.

How can that which does not exist have a name, for it does it is called nothing.

I wish to write to spill to bleed upon pages such writing that make the eyes bleed. I wish to tear out the heart and shape it anew only to replace it with another. Another so that they can see their own and what it has become.

Such insanity tires the mind, such thoughts bleed me dry of energy and existence. I am tired, so very tired. Nothing left but tired. And still I'm here spinning around and around hoping to pull out something anything.

My fingers fly fly so fast so fast. Spin spin spin I hate it I hate it but I have no choice but to continue. Here the lost one that does not have coherence. There is nothing but air that flies between my fingers as I so hard try to grasp it and everything. What what what?!

Help me someone before I lose my mind. Help me please before there is naught but loss. I wish I believe I hope for nothing anything and I receive absolutely shit. Such shit. What can I do but hope?

So we bleed we run we try over and over. Ambition is that which keeps me sane keeps me going to see this world snapped to pieces around me so that I can leave it behind.

Just like it left me.

[Sekot]

The wind picked up, blowing softly through the trees. The rustling of leaves was like water on the beach. People walked through the streets, walked into and out of shops with bags on their arms. Lights decorated the store fronts, the trees, the streetlights. The sun had set so the entire street, the town itself, was alight with all different colors.

Sekot watched those people as they did their last minute holiday shopping with a glass in hand. Crimson liquid sloshed within the crystalline glass, reflecting the candlelight from his table in all directions. Soft chatter filled the air, violin music softly playing underneath it all. Quaint, sophisticated. Boring.

Sekot set the glass back upon the table and tapped a gloved finger twice in agitation. His face itched, a sensation he rarely felt anymore. It took all his will to not relieve him of the annoying pain, however, lest he remove the careful clay that covered his true form.

He glanced up at the clock, felt the glass eyes roll a bit within his skull before resting where they should be. Half past seven. It was late. He was late. He could wait no longer. Downing the rest of the wine, Sekot rose and picked up his jacket and cane before weaving between the many tables and stopping at the door to the kitchen.

He was aware of the many eyes that were watching him as he put on his jacket and pulled up the collar around his neck. Such annoyingly simple people with annoying rules. He pushed through the doors and stalked through the kitchen without making a glance at any of the staff. "Hey, you're not allowed back here!" one said as he moved to stand in front of Sekot.

Sekot paused and stared at the chef without expression. Without a word or movement, the two glass eyes plopped out of his head and fell to the floor, bouncing once before rolling under a counter. The chef stared in wide eyed horror at the now eyeless man before him. Lightly pressing the brass end of his staff against the other's chest, Sekot pushed the man out of his way and silently walked past and out the back door.

The air was crisp. What was left of his flesh instantly felt frozen. And not for the first and last time Sekot wondered how he could still feel anything at all. Silently he cursed whatever cruel sense of irony had gifted him this wretched feeling. "Nikolas," he barked.

"Up here, sir."

Sekot took a step back and looked upward. Nikolas stared down at him from upon the roof, red hair dangling in his face. "Find them. They're late."

Without another word Sekot disappeared.

* * * *

Nikolas watched the necromancer leave before pushing himself away from the edge and back onto his back. For several minutes he quietly stared at the roof of the world, watching the stars as they twinkled in their places. A deep laugh began to boil up within him and he attempted to stifle it. To no avail, however. The moment he opened his mouth it ripped free, a cacophonous cackle. Tonight was going to be fun.

Tonight was the first night.

Quickly he leaped into a standing position and then rushed like an ape to the opposite edge of the roof. He sniffed, smelling the sweet scent of living bodies, beating hearts, and rushing blood. He looked over the edge and down upon the street. People milled about the entrance to the restaurant. Many smoked a cigarette or waited on the valet to retrieve their cars.

Without hesitation Nikolas walked over the edge and landed softly on his feet right in the street. Instantly all talk stopped as those who were outside stopped and stared at the new arrival. Slowly Nikolas turned to face them, a wide smile plastered across his face.

He walked up to one tall woman with blonde, shoulder length hair and a full black gown. She stared at him, a horrified look in her eye. "I'll take that," Nikolas said, taking the freshly lit cigarette from her petrified hand.

He took in a drag, felt the smoke as it was pulled down his throat and into his lungs. He lowered the cigarette and hissed, bearing his teeth as he took in more air. Then he exhaled, but instead of smoke came blood, a cloud of it. The woman shrieked as she was covered with it, falling backwards into the arms of the man she had been talking to previously.

"What the fuck..." the man said bewildered.

Nikolas merely stared as he placed the cigarette back in his mouth and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. "What?" he asked.

"You sonuva..." the woman shrieked again.

Nikolas merely stared at her as she mouthed the last few words, unable to speak them. Her eyes widened as she straightened. Her lips fluttered again, and a soft wheeze issued from her throat, all in an attempt to speak. Nikolas watched her, brushing a hand through his hair.

She dropped like a rock.

Those others in attendance made sounds of shock. The man she was talking to stepped forward and delivered a hard punch to Nikolas' face. The cigarette went tumbling end over end until it fell into a puddle between the street and the curb. Nikolas stared at it, saddened.

The man raised his arm once more and began to bring it forward. Nikolas moved like a snake, his jaw unhinging and then closing around the fist. The man stopped, his momentum taken. Nikolas stared at him, fist still in his mouth. "Let go of me, you fuck!" the man shouted.

Releasing his grip, Nikolas took a step back. The man held his now bleeding hand in his good one and just began to shout a string of obscenities. Those other observers had already begun to run every which way. Some went inside, others gathered around the fallen woman who had begun to hemorrhage onto the sidewalk.

Slowly Nikolas raised his own hand and slowly he snapped his fingers. The man who's hand was bleeding let out an inhuman scream as the blood on his hand began to boil. He fell to his knees, eyes bursting and blood pouring out of his ears.

That blood which was on the sidewalk came to life. Tendrils raised from it and snapped at those too close. Those people which it made contact with too collapsed, their bodies jerking wildly as they seized. Nikolas watched patiently.

The obnoxious wailing of sirens began to differentiate itself from the screams. Nikolas looked down the street and saw the many colored lights as the emergency vehicles made their way around the heavy traffic. He waited, no one bothering to go near him.

The first to arrive was a police car, the two officers immediately coming out with guns raised. Nikolas turned to face them, hands at his side. "Get on the ground!" they yelled.

Nikolas refused.

"Get on the ground!" they shouted again.

Again he refused.

Gunfire like firecrackers, Nikolas felt the two bullets enter his shoulder and abdomen. He took a step back to steady himself, leaning over as he gasped for air. Two more gunshots, one more in the shoulder and one in his lower back. Nikolas let out a shout even as he clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. The two officers came closer, guns still pointed at the young boy.

Nikolas felt it coming, and he did nothing to stop it this time. Once more the laugh issued from within in, and yet from outside of him. It was his and also another's. He rose to his full height, eyes wide and bloodshot. His teeth were bared, red stained from bleeding gums.

Throwing his arms out and his head back, he let out one loud ear piercing scream. The blood, his blood, began to issue forth from the wounds like fountains. But it did not fall according to the laws of gravity. Instead it issued outward, ejecting under high pressure. It swirled about him, rose upward and upward. It was a tornado of crimson fluid. The two police officers stopped and lowered their guns and their jaws.

Before they knew it, Nikolas was between them both, and they had been pierced by two long, crystalline spears of hardened blood. They two collapsed, and their own blood was taken and added to the storm already growing. "Oh where are yooo-uuu!" Nikolas sang into the cold night air, another laugh quickly following.

They would come, otherwise this town would be flooded with their own blood. He turned his focus onto the restaurant. Many had left, others watched in horror. Many had phones out and were recording the massacre and unreality of it all. Nikolas raised one hand towards them, an invitation as if to dance.

The blood storm behind him collected itself into many tiny knife-like diamonds. Those who were smart began to run away from the window. But to no avail for the blood weapons were faster than they. The glass shattered as they were barraged.

"You have an interesting way of gathering our attention," a voice said from behind him.

Nikolas didn't turn to face them. "Well if you had come on time..."

[Sekot]

Before Nikolas could make another move, he was lifted off of his feet and sent flying. Bewildered, he desperately attempted to right himself as he flew end over end. He came to a hard stop when he made contact with an iron fence next to the restaurant. He crumpled, coughing as he attempted to grab his breath. He was unable to before he was lifted once more and then allowed to drop.

He glared through still blood red eyes at the pair of new arrivals. They still stayed quietly in the middle of the street, glistening armor plastered across their lithe bodies, more like clothing in appearance. The tallest one, a raven haired woman, stared hard back at Nikolas with a smirk on her face. Her companion, a burly middle aged man looked at the mess that had been made just minutes prior to their arrival.

The woman lowered her large barreled weapon and began to walk over to the prostrate younger man. He did not move, instead assessing his own injuries. A few cracked ribs and a broken leg. Could be worse. The woman stopped just above him, looking down through her chocolate brown eyes. Nikolas rolled onto his back, wincing at the pain, and smiled up at her. "Hey there beautiful."

His comment was rewarded with a boot to his side. Nikolas shouted in agony as he attempted to pull himself into a fetal position. Another boot to his jaw stopped him and made him lie still. She lowered herself so that she was almost kneeling above him. "Rarely do we find one of you all by yourself. Any friends with you this evening? Or are we partying alone?"

Her voice was cold, but there was still a hint of amusement behind it. Nikolas licked his lips, savoring the taste of his own blood, and smiled at her once again. He saw it, subtle, a twitch at the corner of her eye. "So, what now?" he asked, his words slightly mumbled.

"Now? Now you hope to whatever higher power you believe in that you live another hundred years. I know I'll be hoping that you live another thousand. Far too much fun to be had with you."

She lowered her gun and pointed the open end of the barrel directly into Nikolas' face. A word was spoken, a word Nikolas did not know, and a small screen appeared before her eyes, information spilling onto it. He thought over the possibilities and decided to act. It was a cough, one cough.

She immediately fell backward, scuttling away as fast as she could in sheer surprise. The red cloud of mist hung in the air where her head had been for a second before it began to follow her at a pace faster than she could manage. She let out a yelp, part cry for help part shout of anger. Her companion removed himself from looking at the corpses to placing himself before his partner.

There was a flash, white and bright. The red mist disappeared, Nikolas felt himself lose the connection and silently cursed himself. Of course they knew who he was and had brought the proper equipment. He struggled to stand, leaning against the broken fence for support and clutching his side with his hand.

The woman bent around her partner just enough to point her ridiculous weapon at Nikolas. He saw it glow and cursed himself once more. Again he was picked up and pushed back, this time onto the fence itself. One of the decorative iron spikes on top pushed itself into his back and out his chest. He gasped, blood filling his throat.

He wanted to laugh, to revel in this feeling, at the release of so much glorious essence. But the pain, it was not his own and he feared it. He stared at the ground, his feet dangling a foot above it. He heard their voices, their footsteps as they came closer. A gloved hand grabbed his jaw and forcefully raised it so that they could look at him directly in the eye.

"You're fucked, magim. Fucked."

Nikolas forced a smile. "It ain't me whose fucked," he managed, blood dripping from his lips.

He smelled it, that sickly sweet scent. They smelled it too, their nostrils flaring and heads turning to discover where the scent was coming from. "What..." the armored man began, stopped short as he turned around completely.

A woman with a flowing gown and long blonde hair stood behind him, eyes rolled back into her head. Her veins were clearly visible, her face purple with coagulated fluid. She lifted one skinny arm, her fingers resting lightly on the man's shoulder. Her jaw opened and she leaned in, but was unable to connect. She too found herself spinning through the air only to crash into the police car from before.

The woman lowered her rifle and nodded at her partner. Together they raised their weapons and crouched, the smell only growing stronger. "Shit shit shit shit shit," Nikolas heard the woman say.

"You're fucked," he managed, but only as a whisper.

Several feet before them, space darkened and twisted. A cloud of smoke gathered and then coalesced to form a body without detail. It stood, swirling and undulating. The man fired his hand gun, the purple laser beam flowing harmlessly through the cloud. The woman too but found it ineffective.

And then he came to reality. Dressed in cloak but hood pulled back. His face was covered by the death's head mask, but the eyeless gaze was unmistakable. Two black holes where eyes should be, deep and empty as the grave.

Five twisting tendrils of bone twitched and snapped upon his back. The man fired once more, but was swallowed by the power surrounding Sekot. The man dropped his gun and reached into a pocket and pulled out a knife that glowed green. "No, Jack, don't!" the woman shouted.

Jack sprinted forward, roaring as he went. Sekot waited until the man was but inches away with the point of the knife. Four of the five tendrils moved as fast as lightning, wrapping themselves around the man and halting his run. Sekot lifted him high into the air and with the fifth explored his gastrointestinal tract.

The woman shouted and raised her gun once more. Nikolas acted first, his fingers moving in intricate shapes. His own blood moved from beneath him as if it were alive and quickly doused the gun, hardening as it made contact. She dropped it and attempted to sprint back toward the restaurant, her armor aiding her footsteps and enhancing her speed.

But as she neared the corner, other former patrons of the establishment came around with arms oustretched. She barreled into them with a muffled cry before hitting the ground hard. The undead piled onto her, growling in unison. Sekot watched them for a good minute before tossing what remained of Jack in with them. Silently he moved to stand before Jack, a hand placed upon his shoulder. "Rough night," he said, his voice eerily amplified and echoed through the mask.

Nikolas could only nod before slipping into unconsciousness.

[Sekot]

The obsidian feather drifted slowly through the air, from side to side. It glittered under the halogen lights, casting like in all directions. The guard caught it out of the corner of his eye and looked at it with bewilderment. He watched it fall, captivated by its beauty before it touched the top of the console he was working on and crushed it. The screen blew out in a cloud of sparks and smoke, sending the guard backward with arms before his face.

He recovered, staring at the demolished computer with eyes wide with shock. Then he looked up and around him in search of whatever bird it was that the feather had originated from. Only darkness coated the rafters far above in the expansive warehouse. He reached for his gun, taking it out slowly, still searching upward.

So it was that he almost ran right into the woman standing not three feet away from him. He cursed loudly, falling backward in surprise. She was tall and slender, shimmery black hair that was thick and long. Her emerald eyes stood out around the black eyeshadow surrounding them. She was dressed in a tight-fitting elastic suit that covered everything from the neck down but left little to the imagination.

What was most remarkable about her, however, was the pair of massive, black avian wings that sprouted from her back. As he looked upon her, those wings extended to their awesome magnitude. The guard lifted his gun, his arm shaking, still not quite sure as to what it was that he was looking upon. But the wings. As he stared at them, they began to glitter and sparkle. They took on mesmerizing shapes and colors. He became entranced by them, could almost hear a soft sound like twinkling chimes.

And then his hand burst into flames. He hollered, the entrapping illusion cast aside as he dropped his weapon and clutched his wrist. Blue fire wrapped itself and consumed his flesh. It spread quickly, running up his arm and over his body before he could so much as run. His screams echoed through the warehouse as he collapsed and smoldered.

Behind a rafter, a short man wreathed in the same blue fame appeared. His own skin was blackened and seared, his face a bubbly mess. But as soon as he showed himself, the flames died and he returned to the appearance of a normal person. The harpy stepped over the ashy remains of the guard and tapped a finger against the heavy metal door that blocked them from further entrance.

"How do you plan to get this open?" the man said, stepping up beside her.

The woman didn't respond right away. Instead she took a step back and then pierced the thick metal with one wing. The feathers sliced through as if it were butter, she felt the air on the other side brushing against her. Quickly she sliced an opening large enough for both of them to go through. "Gather what you need, destroy the rest," she said.

The man nodded and went to work tearing open the many unmarked boxes inside. Within each container was a myriad of electrical equipment, the use of which was unknowable by them. The were sent to gather it, not to assemble it.

"Got it, Allesandria," the man said.

"Burn it," Allesandria responded, stepping back through the door and making her way towards the exit.

The man only grinned and began to set the place ablaze. It went up in a matter of seconds, blue fire changing to the more typical orange. The man followed his compatriot and together they disappeared into the night.

[Sekot]

((I've changed the name of the group and the amount of meetings cause that shit is dumb))

The room was just like before, dark with a single light on the one table. All four members sat around it, masks adorned and the only part truly illuminated. It gave the appearance that they were floating in space, magical beings or gods set to discuss the goings on of mortals.

The death's head mask sat furthest from the table, leaning back in its chair so that it was more black mess than definition. Across from it was the avian mask with colorful feathers and long protruding beak. The avian shouted loudly across the table at the death's head, gesturing wildly with a thin arm.

"Shut up."

The words were deep, resonant, and cut the avian off in mid word. The one who spoke was a mask of leaves and flowers that seemed to grow and die before their very eyes. "You've been preaching long enough, but we have what we need."

Across from the leaf mask was one cherub-like face of gold and silver. It leaned forward, glittering under the light. "Is this everything then?"

"Aye," Flora responded.

"And they've been made aware?" Cherub asked, turning its mask towards Death's Head.

With a flick of the wrist, Death's Head cast a handful of digital pictures onto the table. Hands immediately reached out and picked them up, turning them to view what was on them. "They've been marked," Death's Head said.

Avian put the pictures back on the table and pointed at the discs that were already there. "With this we have access to their encryption keys. With whatever else it was that we gathered for you, we're set to begin."

Cherub gingerly picked up the discs and nodded once. Flora cleared its throat, "Then where shall our first target be?"

"Strike where they struck first, at our hearts!" Avian cawed.

"Many of the children attend that academy near the capital," Cherub said.

"I have members who can infiltrate," Death's Head threw in its agreement.

All three looked to Flora who took time to respond. Slowly the mask rose from the table as the wearer stood. "Then that does it. Soon we shall have it all burning down around us."

Death's Head mask rose from the table, "If the Council will excuse me, I have work to do."

Cherub watched the mask disappear into the darkness surrounding the table and then nodded to the remaining two. "That adjourns the meeting of the Council of the Gilded Orchid. We shall reconvene once we have received word of completion."

With that final word the light died, casting the room into emptiness.

[Sekot]

The capital building stood tall and proud in its white stone splendor. People of all types, from business to homeless, walked at the foot of the great many steps that led to the front double doors ornately decorated. The architecture was unlike any other building near it, a mixture of the old with the new. Bright lights buzzed and blinked in intricate displays along its facades. Digital gargoyles roared and thrashed at the air.

One old man stood with the crowd, bent over with age. His craggy face looked from under a tattered, stained brown hood. He leaned heavily on a gnarled cane that had seen far better days. His wrinkles only accentuated his large frown.

He reached out a hand and waited, ignoring the talk and bustle of those around him. It was but a moment before he felt it, a single drop of moisture on his ashen palm. Slowly his fingers folded into a fist and he lowered his arm and looked skyward. Dark clouds gathered at a rate unnatural. The star that gave light to the world was quickly hidden under the grey, broiling mass.

More sprinkles began to fall, the sidewalk darkening with each splatter. Everyone stopped what they were doing. All talk ceased and all eyes were raised. This was unheard of, rain that was unpredicted. Quicker it began to fall, and in greater quantities. Lightning flashed, striking the top of the capital building. Thunder clapped, the earth shook and many grabbed their ears. The old man still stood, staring up those many steps. And then with a heavy sigh he lifted a foot and placed it on the first. Slowly he began to climb the stairway, both feet resting before moving on to the next.

Rain began to fall in sheets, the wind picked up and brought frigid air with it. Those who were on the streets ran for cover, shrieking in terror and bewilderment. The old man heard them and was saddened. He remembered a time where rain was unpredictable. He remembered when those first few attempts came to harness the weather. He remembered the death of nature.

It took many minutes to reach the top of the steps, even aided by a bolstering wind at his back. Once at the peak, he turned and looked down on the street he had come from. Empty. Cars were all that were there and even they moved at a walking pace. Hamstrung to the point of uselessness.

The old man felt a warm breeze touch his cheek and then a person seemed to coalesce out of nothingness. It took shape, hardly definite, but noticeable. "Keep at it, Eli," the old man said, his voice gravelly and deep.

The figure disappeared, born away with the wind. The rain picked up, and hail began to fall. Lightning flashed, followed quickly by another. Thunder rolled, the great drums of war were beating furiously.

Behind the man, the stone began to crack. The digital gargoyles fluttered briefly. Lights dimmed and stuttered. And then out of the stone floor came great wooden roots. They stretched like fingers, grasping the walls and forcing their way into them. The electronics died, circuits shattered as the wooden tendrils found new homes.

Two such tendrils wrapped themselves around the handles of the doors and pulled with such force that it sent the wooden doors flying in pieces. The old man turned towards the now open threshold, roots following him as he went. They claimed more and more territory, forcing themselves into rooms where they did not belong. People who were caught by them found themselves constricted and taken away to places they knew not where.

In a single hour, the capital building lay in ruins, one tall tree rising from the rubble with arms stretched skyward. Green leaves flapped wildly in the torrential downpour. All those inside were lost.

[Sekot]

The gun was pointed at the child's head, the barrel black as the void. She stared into it and was swallowed by it, consumed whole. Tears began to streak her face, great wails emanated from her throat. She backed away, scratched at the ground with ragged fingernails. Her tangled hair flew in every direction as she shook her head in some vain attempt to flee the gun's stare.

The wielder followed, booted feet clicking against stone floor. The girl back herself onto a wall and stilled. Her eyes widened further, her jaw dropped further. One great scream that was quickly cut short by a now smoking barrel. The wielder prodded the fresh corpse with the toe of a boot. Shot again. Walked away.

There were many, all exiting one solitary construct. The last one left, the door closed, and the building went up in flames. Machines that flew with rotors soared overhead, barrels red and spouting flame. Machines trundled slowly through the streets, firing wildly into everything.

The armored soldiers who marched alongside them talked silently into their helmets, chattered amongst themselves and heard the words in their ears. They fired their rifles, their pistols, their artillery. Green blue red, the sky was alight with color unnaturally bright. And screams gave accompaniment.

A man appeared from an alley, stumbling wildly into one armored soldier. The man lifted his fist and opened his fingers, revealing a pile of dust in his palm. With one blow, the fine powder was lifted. It was wrenched from his hand, sent flying floating and tumbling. The soldier coughed as he felt it on his lips, clutched at his throat as he felt it tighten. The man who accosted the soldier cackled but was shot down, his body torn to pieces by the laser fire.

The victim fell to the ground, tearing off his helmet and trying to tear off his breastplate. But no, too quick was that which afflicted him. He was taken by it, and soon lost touch with life. Those soldiers nearest him picked him up and took him to the rear, amongst the other corpses. Casually they tossed him aside, letting the doctors scrounge over the body.

One general watched from afar, a tower made portable. She stood, immaculately dressed in military garb, watching as the city burned. "Grand General Fenwich, the capital has been taken."

The Grand General did not turn. Instead she waved her hand, dismissing the aide. In silence she stood, basking in her succulent victory. She tapped the glass with a gloved hand and a screen appeared, data flowing over it. "Send a report to Dr. Taylor. Tell him we have succeeded."

[Sekot]

"Why are we here?" Nikolas asked.

The two stood upon a rooftop overlooking the city with its many lights, many cars, many people. Skyscrapers like barren trees, pathetic mountains, people still inside working away. "We are here to observe," Sekot responded after several moments of silence.

"Observe what?" Nikolas asked, though he already knew the answer.

"This," Sekot gestured at the expanse of metal that surrounded them.

The sky above was clear, the star shone brightly upon them. Sekot was adorned in traditional black cloak, but no mask covered his face. He let it be presented to the world in all of its hideousness. He could feel the warm breeze that blew over the tops of the buildings, over the top of his own building, and he could smell the reek of machinery. "The smell, it is different. Not the sickly sweet smell of life nor the pungent stench of death. It is stale, barely alive, not quite dead."

Nikolas sniffed the air but was unable to divine the same thing. It all just smelled like shit. "We goin' to torch that school? Those kids of the aristocrats and politicians?" he asked, picking at his teeth with a fingernail.

"No," Sekot responded flatly.

"But the precious Council..."

"No."

Nikolas didn't bother to keep it up. He hardly cared either way. Out of the corner of his eye he stared at Sekot, watched him as the undead monster watched the world. "What are you looking for?" Nikolas asked, turning his gaze outward.

"Life."

Nikolas arched an eyebrow and leaned over the edge of the roof and down onto the street. "Seems like there's plenty of it to me."

Sekot snarled deep within his throat causing Nikolas to tense briefly. "No, this is not life. Nor is it death. It is limbo. These people are nonexistent, nothing. They are unknowable, unintelligible, useless. But, at the same time, they are everything. They are defined by what they are not, and they are neither dead nor alive.

"They know not what holds them, what binds them, what place they exist in. They are unaware of their own time and location. We are hardly concerned with them beyond the uses that they can provide for us."

Nikolas was quiet, contemplating as he too watched those many people. "Then why? Why all this effort?"

"We who are Outside have always wished to be this. But we are unable. We have become embittered. And so we seek to...change."

Nikolas smiled. "Over my many years, never have I seen something so organized. It really took all of you this long to put together a mission statement? And a shitty one at that."

Sekot didn't say a word. He had vanished. Nikolas glanced over where the necromancer had once been and let out a heavy sigh.

[Sekot]

"They have razed our last city," Flora said in its slow, ponderous fashion.

"We destroyed their capital," Avian commented.

"All is fair in love and war..." Cherub said while looking at its nails.

"Well aren't you all a calm bunch!"

All four floating masks turned to the newest member present at the table, one who did not wear a mask. The middle-aged, balding, over weight man visibly recoiled at the silent reprimand. "May we remind His Majesty that he is a guest at the Council of the Gilded Orchid?" Skull said, the voice dripping with sarcasm.

The man readjusted his elaborately frilled collar and cleared his throat, "Well I apologize, but I just think you lot should be a bit more....angry about all of this. It was our last refuge after all!"

"It was your last refuge, your Majesty," Cherub put in.

"Long ago we saw this coming, and long ago we began preparation," Avian spoke, a slight hiss of annoyance following its words.

"We came to you, we came to all of your people, and asked for your aid. And you refused. So we took volunteers. And still will take volunteers, if we so deem it necessary or worthwhile. But as of right now..." Flora trailed off.

"You are on your own." All four voices said in perfect unison.

The rotund gentleman fiddled with his fingers for a few good seconds, looking around the table desperately. With an exasperated sigh, he stood and removed himself from the table, disappearing into the darkness around it.

[Sekot]

I crossed the threshold
invisible line.
I witnessed...

Myself. Through the darkness
over the chains
around the walls
I appeared to me.

There was nothing
but me.

Room empty
colorless
except for me.

And I embraced myself
called out to me
and came back to me.
And through mine eyes
I looked upon the world.


I saw people
once known
now nobody.
I see a boy with a girl
such sorrow in his face.
Such happiness in hers.
She holds his hand.
She leans upon him.
She looks at him
smiles.

He does not look at her.
He does not smile. Such
slowness to it all.
Such sadness.

I see more
people that talk and talk
and talk.

Boyfriends
Girlfriends
boys with girls
and girls with boys. Talking.
Talking.

I feel small. Not present.
Fear. Such fear. These people
who are they?
Who am I? What is this?
Leave, quick. Run. Flee.

Get out. Be led by once
friend. Touch against my
hand. Touch against me.
Me. Us. This hybrid
thing.

Outside. Cold. Cannot move.
So hard to move. Touching still.
Get away. Get away. Get away.
Don't touch me. Don't look at me.
I feel my heart
it breaks
such walls are nonexistant
I cannot separate myself
from me.

Growl, snarl, turn away from outreached
hand. Affection. Despise it. Hate it.
Turn her away, tell her to flee.
Do not talk to me.
Us.

Cannot will not
mindlessness.
Alone. Absent.
Newcomer.
Growl. Snarl.
Get away.
Apologize.
But shout
angry and
hate.
Get away. Go inside.
Go back and never come back.

Get away from this monster, this
thing.
Hybrid monster.
Get me away from myself.
Close these doors.
Let these walls come back. Let me
leave him all alone.
He is not me.
I am not him.

Get away.
Never come back.
Feral. Wild.
Get away.
He growls at me. Is
terrified
of me.

I am aware
of speaking
gibberish.
I am aware
of others who can
hear this
inner war.

I need
to be left
alone.
To rebuild these walls.
To lock him away.
To never let him see
the light of day.

[athelstan]

(( en.wikisource.org/wiki/Me_from_Myself_%E2%80%94_to_banish_%E2%80%94

Even if this is the faceless internet, I'd like to say: Thank you for allowing us to see you in this way. I think it is courageous.))

[Sekot]

((Thanks, that means a lot. For me, its a necessity, otherwise I'll just go insane. I have to write it out to process all those bottled emotions.))

Elizabeth looked through her scope, down the length of her long barreled rifle, and out onto the winding streets torn from years of battle. She took in several deep breaths, waiting patiently, still as stone. Her eyes never blinked, stared with a determined passion. Then she saw it, her target, a lone man wandering past the corner.

He was dressed in rags, ragged and destitute. Warily he looked up and down the street before continuing down the road. Gingerly he picked his way over the rubble, slowly making his way. Elizabeth's breath stopped as she held it tight. Her gloved finger tightened around the trigger. There was a pop in her ears and the rifle recoiled, the barrel reddening and then instantly cooling.

The blue bolt of energy that was released from the barrel flew at nearly the speed of light. The man did not see it coming, heard nothing, and collapsed as the bolt made contact. The body faded away, shimmered into nothingness, but from that point the energy dissipated like shattered glass. There was another brief shimmer in the air ten feet away, and the man reappeared. He stumbled, clutching his stomach. Elizabeth clicked a button on the side of her rifle, the ammunition chamber rotating inside. She fired again, this time the pop was louder and there was a brilliant flash. The man exploded in a shower of flesh, bone, and blood.

Elizabeth's breath returned and she looked away from the scope. She could make out a red stain on the grey pavement and that was all. Without wasting any more time, she rolled away from the edge of the roof she was perched upon and began to take her weapon apart. She stashed the parts in a case and attached it to her armored back. Quickly she grabbed her helmet and placed it over her head, the eyeplates coming to life with an influx of data. "Target neutralized," she spoke flatly.

"Return to base," the automated voice responded.

She tongued the comm unit to silent and stood, briskly making towards the door that would lead to the the stairs. Placing a hand on the threshold, she paused. Her enhanced sensors had picked up a noise, a slight whining disturbance. She removed her hand and took a step back from the stairwell, a stairwell that appeared darker than it should.

Slowly the soldier's hand lowered to her thigh, her fingers wrapping around the grip of her handgun. A low rumble emitted from the stairs, her sensors still picking up nothing but the sound. Silently she mouthed a curse and took out the weapon. Elizabeth looked from side to side for another escape, but there were very few that did not involve a long drop and quick stop.

She shifted her attention back to her first exit when from within a beast appeared. First a long arm extended itself out of the darkness and a ten fingered hand smashed into the material of the roof, cracking it. Then came another arm, and then the head. The head itself was long and narrow with a toothless maw that hung agape. Four beady eyes stared out of sunken holes, rotating wildly in no discernible direction.

Elizabeth fired her gun. The beast's head turned towards the red blaster bolt and swallowed with the terrible maw. Elizabeth cursed again and holstered the gun. This time she reached behind her, the beast took notice and let out a pitiful roar before pulling itself out entirely from the stairwell. Her arms extended and in her hands two gleaming swords extended themselves. The beast charged her, galloping at an impossible speed for such stumpy hindlegs.

Instantly Elizabeth collapsed, falling onto her back as the beast soared above her. Its hindlegs though caught hold and pulled her along with it. She thrashed, the blades slicing into tendon in the legs and backside. The beast made no sound, instead releasing its grip and nearly flipping over as it made to grab her.

Elizabeth rolled to the side and pushed herself up onto her feet. As she did so, another hand came soaring through the air, massive palm with fingers stretched wide aimed for her face. She ducked and then rose, the blades slicing into the arm and working there way through it.

The arm retracted, pulling one blade from her hand. The beast looked at its now dangling arm and the sword that was stuck in it. It reached forward, the mouth closing over that section of the arm, and then pulled away. The front piece fell to the ground, the stump flailed wildly. The beast swallowed its own flesh and the sword with it, before turning back to face Elizabeth.

But the soldier had already run. At a sprinter's pace, augmented by her armor, she threw herself over the ledge of the building. The suit whined at her, alarms begging her to stop her descent. She ignored them, tucked her limbs in close, and waited for impact. It was jarring when it happened, the earth below her gave way. Dazed she sat for several minutes, the low rumble of the beast making itself known to her several stories down.

"Requesting...backup....some...fucking monster-thing is here," she said into her comm unit, her words slightly slurred.

Slowly she rose to her full height, leaning against the shattered foundation of another building to catch her breath. Her sensors beeped, the beast was approaching. "Fuck this," she muttered, turning to sprint again.

The beast barreled through the wall nearest her, showering her with bits of rock and plaster. Another low rumble, but by then she was gone. The beast followed, shambling slower than before but still faster than what should be possible.

She didn't hear it until it was over her. An ear splitting whistle that caused her to instinctively stop her running and hit the ground hard. Even then she was nearly lifted from her feet as the "friendly" projectile smashed itself behind her. She felt the heat, even through her armor, and could only guess at how hot it was behind her. Then the vacuum that threatened to suck her away, and then nothing.

For several seconds she lay prone on the ground, refusing to rise. But she gathered her wits and rolled onto her back. She looked behind her and saw only a glowing crater, no sign of any beast. "Thanks," she said, breathless.

"Don't mention it," the automated voice responded.

[Sekot]

Elizabeth watched the fire as it flickered wildly, its orange-yellow-white hues playing over those other faces that watched it. It had been quite some time since she had seen actual fire. She found herself unable to take her eyes away from it. She admired it, wanted to be it, felt a certain connection to it. Which was crazy, she acknowledged, but still there was something undeniably attractive about it.

A cold breeze blew and she pulled her cloak tighter around her. It was brown, color of the dirt that covered the wastes. She felt naked without her armor, but she could not afford to stand out. Not here, not now. Too many faces that did not know her, too many that would ask questions. Her hard brown eyes searched those very faces, looked into their eyes so filled with sorrow and disgust and bitterness. There was a pull on her heart, a deepening within her chest, but she bit it back. In each face was the look of one who would destroy her in a second with whatever rudimentary magical skill they knew.

"Fucking magim," she muttered under her breath.

Though, just by looking at them, she could hardly tell a difference between them and her own kind. They were human, or close to it, and were just as weary as her own kind by this war that never ended. This group, this roving band that skirted just outside the ruined city, were suspicious of her, but asked very little questions. They assumed she was one of them and she did nothing to dispel that assumption.

These were the broken lands of a war torn world. They would need all the help they could receive.

Off in the distance there was a high pitched shriek that fell in pitch to a low, throbbing moan. It sounded like death itself out there. It was not the first time Elizabeth had heard such a cry, but that knowledge did nothing to dissuade her of the terror she felt at the sound. The soldier knew well where the noise originated from, knew well the face of fear.

"What was that?" a woman asked, looking up from her hands with eyes wide with fear.

"Gremlung," a man answered, staring in the direction the voice had come from.

Elizabeth watched as that man leaned forward and picked up a battered rifle and placed it on his lap. It looked so archaic to her eyes, so foreign and mysterious. And she instantly felt pity, for that weapon would be useless for what these people called gremlungs. She caught the man's eye, and he nodded at her with a grim expression. He knew it as well.

Looking behind her, Elizabeth reassuringly patted her sack. Within it was her weapons, no armor though. Far too bulky. She turned her attention back to the fire, the long shriek rising into the night air once more. Closer she pulled her cloak, shutting her ears against the noise.

An hour passed, nothing happened, but then the patrol guards began to make noise and Elizabeth perked up from her semi-sleeping state. The voices were muffled, impossible to make out, and Elizabeth, not for the first time, cursed the fact that she did not have her helmet on hand.

A figure came closer to the fire, different in posture then those others who had been here originally. A newcomer. Few looked at the newcomer, and those that did quickly looked away. Elizabeth watched them, sensing something was off. Maybe this person was the leader of this merry band of wanderers, or maybe this was some kind of extortionist.

The figure's hood moved from side to side, enough light getting in to make out pale flesh and strong jaw with bared teeth. For a moment Elizabeth had to do a double-take, the teeth were not normal. But before she could acknowledge her first impression, the smile faded.

The newcomer moved past the individuals and made way past the tents and out of Elizabeth's sight. Talking did not resume around the fire, everyone was silent and kept their heads down. "Who was that guy?" Elizabeth asked, leaning over toward her nearest companion.

The man looked at her but said nothing, his gaze slowly returned to the fire. Elizabeth bit her lip, deciding on a proper course of action. But her thoughts were interrupted. The same cry from earlier went off again, except this time much closer. Too close. From the ruins of some building just to the south of them. The sound of it so close made her eardrums throb in pain. Many threw hands around their ears and cried out with it. Elizabeth winced, her heart began to race. "We need to leave," one voice said from somewhere among the tents.

The man with the gun stood, turning to look towards the source of the cry. "Put out the fire," he said, raising his rifle to better prepare himself.

The fire was quickly doused, sending everyone into darkness. There were very few stars in the sky and no satellite to reflect their light. It was so very dark within the camp and there was no sound but that of breathing.

Another cry, this time from the opposite direction. There were screams once again from the campers, but this time of utter fear. Elizabeth quickly turned to grab her sack but found it was not there. "Fuck!" she screamed, loudly enough to startle several others.

She ignored them, rising from her seat to begin looking for her lost items. "Looking for this," a voice hissed in her ear.

Elizabeth froze, slowly turning her head to look at the speaker who stood behind her. It was the newcomer from before, but this time the hood was pulled back. The flesh was indeed pale, and it seemed to almost glow with a sickly light. The teeth were sharp, serrated, and bared toward her. The eyes were two deep, black pits and she found she could barely look into them. "Give it back," she demanded, forcing her tone to be cold and quick.

The man merely shook the sack, metal rattling against metal inside. "What is this you have in here?"

Another howl.

"Just a few items stolen from abandoned shops, now give it back!"

The man cocked his head to the side and smiled wider, "We know who you are."

Elizabeth froze, her arm halfway stretched to reach the bag. "What?"

"We. Know. Who. You. Are," the man articulated, leaning closer with every word.

Elizabeth searched for familiar faces, but all were turned outward to look for the coming gremlungs. "They know better than to interfere," the man hissed, catching her gaze.

For a second Elizabeth thought, and then it was over. She delivered a quick, heavy punch to the man's left jaw and then ripped her bag out of his hands. She ran into the crowd of tents hoping to lose him there. A rifle popped, a woman screamed, and suddenly five gremlung shrieks pierced the air far too close for comfort. They were in the camp.

"Where are you going? Nowhere to hide from me."

The man appeared out of nowhere before her, coalescing as a darkness impenetrable before taking almost intelligible shape. By now Elizabeth had retrieved her handgun and she quickly let fly a couple of shots, but the man had already disappeared. Turning on her heels, she began to run in the opposite direction as she pulled another handgun out of her sack and slung it across her back.

Shouts and gunfire came from where she had been previously, as did the sound of tearing flesh. She could no go that way, not now. But she could also feel the presence of the man around her, behind her. It was chasing her, but at the same time knew where she was going to be. The darkness of the night seemed to grow deeper, less penetrable. She felt she was going blind.

Suddenly Elizabeth felt nothing below her feet, her stomach floated. And she collapsed face first into the dirt. The wind was knocked from her, and she was left gasping for breath. Booted feet appeared before her eyes, wispy like smoke but tangible. "If only I could be the one..." he said from above.

Elizabeth tasted blood in her mouth and a wetness on her upper lip. Her nose throbbed. To add to it, she heard footsteps coming from behind her. With a little effort, she rolled onto her back and looked at the newest arrival. The boy was short, young with neon red hair. He looked at her and nodded with a smile. "I can see you're bleeding," he mentioned flatly. She recognized his face and tone from the camp. "Next time, to blend in, make sure you walk less like a soldier and more like a civilian. Not like I couldn't smell your dirty blood from a mile away regardless, but it would have been much more amusing."

Elizabeth lifted her weapons and fired within the blink of an eye. One bolt impacted the red hair's shoulder, sending him backward a step with a shout. The other bolt was swallowed by a cloud of darkness that swirled above her. She followed it to where a normal arm would meet socket on the pale fleshed man above her.

The red haired boy spoke in a tongue Elizabeth did not understand, was not one native to this world, and fear gripped her. The pale man responded in kind, and the fear deepened. Gremlungs cried out, and the smell of death permeated her nostrils. Slowly she rose to a kneeling position, neither man stepping in to stop her.

She took pause however, for that smell of death was unlike the smell gremlungs normally gave off. This was the familiar stench of the battlefield days gone by. This was the smell of rot. She had been warned of this particular stench, this unmistakable and out of place smell. Elizabeth had not the energy to curse.

Past a tent appeared another figure, this one moving slowly and with a slight limp. Five bone tails snapped like whips from its back, blood dripping from the tips. It slowly came toward her, a coldness freezing her in her place. She wanted to run, but could not.

A thin, bony hand rose to pull back the hood and pale flesh was revealed. But not the same kind of pale flesh as the first man. No, this was sickly and not glowing. It was real and rotting. She could see bleached bone and teeth without gums. She found she could not help but stare as it came close enough to touch before kneeling to look her in the eye at eye level.

"Kill me," she whispered, unable to make her voice go any higher.

"I will not," it responded, the teeth gnashing so inhumanly as to be repulsive.

"Kill me!" she said again, slightly higher than before.

"I will not."

"Why?"

It did not respond, but merely looked at her with empty sockets. Elizabeth felt like she wanted to vomit. "Because," it spoke, the voice entering her body and holding her captive, "you are my witness."

With that, he disappeared. The other two with him. Elizabeth retched that very moment. Dry heaved until there was nothing left but bile.