Through My Eyes

My world, corruptible, broken, and plagued. Our governments cry the broken tone of humanity and cut the strings of life day by day. They send people to die; bleeding and screaming, begging to spare their souls from the terror that is this reality. They train our troops to be mindless puppets, to be monsters to all who oppose them, to crush all resistance. Innocent lives killed in the crossfire of their campaign of the slaughter for domination of the land’s resources. Oil, coal, food, silver, gold, and many more precious gems that are now stained with blood of angels and demons.

Religion has caused just as much damage as our governments. Their beliefs have led to the destruction of more innocents across the centuries, long before the executives came to power. People preach that their God’s are to assure them peace in the afterlife, but at what cost? The crumbling of empires goes back thousands of years, all of the failures the founded them destroyed and eradicated piece by piece until nothing was left by bloody rock.

But we are no different. We kill, we murder, and we destroy. But at what cost for us? In hopes that world will one day be free from its corruption? No, the world will always be corrupt and broken; but that could be changed. All plagues start with a source, someone will always be patient zero. We have to find the source and cut it through, show the world what we are. We are not Terrorists, we are not intending harm, and we seek what the Executives will not provide. Freedom for all, with a burning of that blood red flag that stands above all else. We seek the death of government corruption, the lies, and wars. Humans aren’t meant to be turned into weapons, we are peaceful beings. Sadly, in order for the world to be at peace once and for all, one final war must be established, a breaking point for all those who intend to harm others. The evil will be put to rest for good, while the innocents will remain breathing.

If there is a God out there, a creator, or even a higher power than that. May they spare this world of more bloodshed with what I shall damn myself to.

 

Take the shot.

The blast from the rifle glided through the lightning and rain, over the park, and connected with the stain glass of the ‘Creator’, and tore through the Executive’s neck. His head slowly peeled away from his upper torso. His grey upper class jacket stained in blood almost immediately. Before the head completely detached, the bullet ripped through the skull in a strange direction, taking the eyeball with it. Bodyguards rushed to the headless corpse, sirens began to sound in the matter of seconds.

The rouge entity sat atop the copper and steel tower as its lights dimmed at the tick of midnight. His cloak was wrapped around his face, and a black mask of leather and goggles shimmered with the strike of lightning in the distance. A black hood connected down to a cape. He stood up, revealing his grey vest. On it, bullets, knives, a golden chain watch with the engraving of a dragon devouring a goat. Viles of poison sat on his belt, as well as a revolver in its holster. Down his right leg was a loaded lever shotgun, also in its holster, with scratches reading, ‘May your blood taint this world no more.’ On his left leg sat timed explosives. Only capable of being detonated when a charge is connected to it.

We may want to get out of here, the authorities will arrive soon. Especially after that.

“At least Executive Jackelman is dead.” The rouge wrapped the sniper around his shoulder and turned away from the Central Building. He pulled a list that was tucked away in his vest. He unfolded the thick paper, revealing a long list of over a thousand names, around two hundred or so were scratched off. Next to the names were tallies. He scratched out Jackelman’s name and sitting next to his were three tallies.

You do realize it’s not over though, right?

So he had kids…

“We’re going to have to deal with them. From what I recorded, it was three boys. All of them just about to reach the age to take office. They’re all arrogant, they treated the world bellow them like trash.”

And now we get to show them what it’s all been building up too.

The rouge grabbed the watch from his pocket, and clicked the latch release once. Behind him the central building exploded in a large fireball, taking the lives of police and other smaller government officials. Soon, all of the city will be on lockdown, he had to get out while he could. He launched himself off of the building and fired a grappling hook from a brace on his wrist. It flew forward and grabbed the ledge of a building from the other side of the street. He zipped across the night sky silently. As the world fell into the tragic night of darkness.

 

A knock at the door.

A lady answers; tears slowly roll down her eyes she then collapses in shock. The police catch her and take her inside, to place her on the sofa near the window. One of the maids walk over to her to try and calm her down. Voices are exchanged through the glass, faint, but recognizable. The police describe the incident and what had happened. While one of the boys stand on the other side of the room, head’s down, trying to comprehend what’s happened to their father.

With a flash of lightning the power goes out inside. It’s dark, and barley can vision be useful. There’s another knock at the door. Followed by the heavy hitting on a solid object. The boy grabs a fireplace tool as a weapon, the sharpened tips ever so fine as a perfect murder weapon.

A police officer goes to the door and looks through the eye hole on the door. It’s dark, but he can’t see anything, finally the vision clears and standing there is a cloaked figure. He pulls something from bellow his belt and places it to the socket. The officer realizes his mistake. A shot is fired through the door once, blowing the head off the officer, leaving the jaw still attached to his neck. His partner runs around, revolver drawn, at the door. Another shot is fired through the door knob, hitting the officer in the upper torso and cutting off his heart completely.

The rouge stood in the doorway and reloaded his shotgun as he kicked the door in. The son charged at him with the tool in hand, yelling to the top of his lungs but was quickly silenced with a sleight of a knife. It cut through his vocal cords and jugular. He fell to the ground and scratched at his neck, gasping for air as blood filled his lungs.

The hunt isn’t over.

One of the brothers stood on the staircase in shock, but raised his rifle to his opponent. The entity reached for his revolver and fired at the brother a moment before he fired. The bullet smashed into his arm and his finger pulled the trigger, the rifle’s muzzle flashed when the mother stepped into the hall and took her head off with the blink of an eye.

He screeched in pain, and charged at the entity full charge with the rifle trying to hit him with it. But the enemy refused to allow that. He punched the boy across the face and dropped the rifle. His head smashed against the staircase, as he reached to the back of it to feel the pain down, the man’s boot came crushing down into his head. His head exploded in a burst of blood and brains. Pieces of his skull shot through his skin and onto the wooden staircase.

The older brother is upstairs.

The brother was hiding in the library, climbing the bookshelves in hope of not being found. He managed to cling to a gargoyle statue that appeared as though blood covered it with every flash of lightning. The entity smashed open the doors to the library. Almost as though the evil one himself was walking the planet, books fell at his appearance. The brother’s heart rate and breathing increased, sweat poured down his head at the appearance of this man. He could finally taste fear, the fear of death was pounding to him. All those under classed people he had wronged, now he could see what they feared about him. Death lurking right under his nose with no sign of it ending.

He slipped. His collar got caught on one of the horns of the gargoyle, catching him by the neck. He choked unable to free himself of his shirt. Blood rushed in and out of his head with quick pulses. His vision began to blacken, but with the last sight before his death; stood the entity above him. His cloak casting over him as if he was the embracement of death itself.

“May you bleed in the depths of the world for the rest of eternity.” He said to the brother. The brother reached for the cloak, but it was too late. His world fell to black and skin went cold. His blood stopped pumping, and he was gone. A lifeless corpse hanging from the library itself.

May the world fear this power.

And seek its final resting places for all those who have abused the power.

 

Chains rattled against the tile floor.

They locked me in and threw away the key.

Sickles covered in blood danced with the forward movements of the man’s arms. He hunched over as if in pain. Like ticks on a clock, his footsteps clicked in the hall.

They will pay.

His gas mask covered his face, goggles glowing a low light of blue; a hood covered over the back of the mask, and wrapped around his back; a triple barrel shotgun. Ammo wrapped around his belt.

All of them will pay.

A maid walked out into the hall carrying a platter of drinks, wines, teas, and other herbal substances spread out on small plates. Her white dress shimmered from the kitchen light. She looked over at him, her eyes widened with fear, her mouth dropped to a surprised look. “Scuse’ me sir.” The maid said to him. “If you are here to see Mr—Hines---worth.” She stuttered as the man approached and walked past not acknowledging her. “Isn't seeing anyone to-” Her head was completely removed with a swing of man’s sickle. Her body hit the ground, sending a crash of drinks to the floor. Glass shattering filled the hallway.

The sickle was pulled back with the chain it was connected too. Blood soaked down its handle as the woman’s head slowly twitched the little amount of life that was left in it.

“All of them will pay.”

 

Bodies of bodyguards, maids, and police lay scattered across the room. Blood stained the once white carpet. The Executive’s head tumbled off the desk, spurting small drops of blood from the veins and flesh. The hooded man wore the stance of a crazed warrior, lost in his mind of chaos and destruction.

“Not enough, never will be enough.”

The door was kicked open. Policemen rushed in, their shotguns and revolvers pointed on the man. Blood soaked down his chains. He slowly turned around, hands welded to the handles of his weapons. He stood there, staring down the barrels of several officers. “Stand down” The captain said. He stood there, continuing to look into their eyes.

“You’re all corrupted.” Safeties were clicked off. “All of you!” He charged at them. They opened fire. Pellets of red filled the air, but it didn’t stop him. His blades shattered all bullets on impact, creating an invisible barrier between him and the firepower. He lunged through the air and sent a blade through the head of the first line of police; ripping their heads completely from their bodies.

The next row scattered, but he was too quick. Chains and blades functioned like a working body, crushing all caught in the webbing of chains and blades slashing through everyone else. The third line stood paralyzed in fear as the masked man wandered to their fallback position farther at the end of the hall. He grabbed his shotgun from his back, and pointed it at them. They clung to their rifles, unable to pull the trigger. Some of them took the guns and pulled it on themselves.

The rest sat in fear as he pulled the trigger of his shotgun. Sending a burst of flaming ammo down the hall. They burst into flames almost instantly as blood boiled out of the holes left from the blast. The Captain had fallen to his back as the man walked through the flames of the bodies. He grabbed him by the collar and looked at him through the blue lenses of the gas mask.

“Your kind caused the wars…tonight, you will bleed for them.” Ramming the sickle through his heart, he fell to the ground, suffering for his life as blood gushed from the wound through his uniform. “But I won’t even give you that chance.” And a burst of flame was sent through his vision with his last sight.

 

Bodies lay down the cold hallways, inmates and police rotting quickly as insects and rodents gnawed away at their cold dead flesh. Screams and moans for those still breathing cut through the air in the concrete corridors. One inmate ran as swarms of flies swarmed his head, screaming in terror from something behind him. It wore a white fabric outfit, stains of blood splattered down it. A metal asylum mask covered the whole face, leaving nothing but the eyes visible and greasy hair draped down the figure’s ears.

“Monster! Monster!” The terrified inmate screamed as he ran over the corpses of the damned. He threw his hands around wildly, trying to remove the flies from his head. The man behind wouldn’t stop though. He kept walking at a steady pace, breathing slowly, keeping calm even as the bodies of the dead began to turn to skeletons.

The inmate threw open the door to the warden’s office, running over quickly to the mutilated corpse that had been strangled to death hours earlier. He grabbed the lever shotgun from the warden’s decomposing body and locked the door behind him. He tossed the desk upwards and pointed it in the direction.

He shook violently as tears ran down his face, his heart rate wasn’t slowing down and it didn’t begin to when metal door was met with a really hard ‘thump’. He began sobbing at the sounds of each hit. Slowly, the door became unhinged from its latches, eventually crashing to the floor. The figure stood there in the doorway, looking directly at him. The inmate broke down, his body locked up, he couldn’t pull the trigger out of fear. The man stepped forward, bulking over him with his shadow.

“No! No! Go away! Go away!” He yelled in terror, scrambling backwards as the man reached out his hand. “Go away you monster!” He took the shotgun and rammed it under his jaw and fired. A flash of light lit the room, blood threw itself into the air, smashing against the white ceiling. Brains poked out from the inmate’s skull and one of the eyeballs had come loose and hung from the socket.

The figure stood there, and wiped the blood that had covered his white outfit and looked as his hand’s had become covered in it. He slowly turned around and walked out of the office, and then silently, out of the prison.