Will

I saw him bound on his hands and knees, in a pool of his own sweat. For long, he writhed within his bindings, helplessly trying to piece himself free, his efforts in vain. Incapacitated, he lay there, slump in a pool of his own failure.

Sad, isn't it?

He was beautiful too. A work of God's art, from his long, flowing brown hair, his crisp blue eyes and a very defined nose.

His hair cut, locks scattered in a puddle of blood, which had poured from his now cracked and misshapen nose. What could have done this to him?

One thing.

It is a almost holy thing, talked about all one's life.

It battered his will, once wrought of iron. Tore his mind, cast of gold. Shattered his heart, once of glass.

His cold eyes meet yours and you feel them, piercing your soul, melting your heart.

Everything he does is a blatant attack of your home, your temple. He only seeks now to defile every temple he can; to steal the tithe and upset your font.

Nothing can save him, he is unbound. His soul was swept away from him, as he lay bound. Wisps of smoke rose above his head, the soul sought no more anguish. He forced it from himself.

He feels no longer.

His body is warm.

His touch is cold.

His eyes?

Much colder.

Your temple will become his own. A house of pain and sorrow. He will pray to your god so that he might be set free, but the same of him will happen to you.

You will know sorrow, you will know pain.

He will smash the stained glass windows, mutilate your effigies and destroy your altar.

He will become your god.

He will become all your think of.

All you dream of.

You will have many sleepless nights.

All because you let love crush you the way it had crushed him.

Reditio Naturorum

Dollar sign.

DOLLAR sign.

DOLLAR SIGN.

That's all I see them as. That's all they are. Dollar signs with legs. You think they have heartbeats? What makes you think that they have the same thought capacity as you and me?

Do you see the gods they worship? Silicon bodies and their teeth so perfect? They're royalty.

But truly? No. They simply have more paper than what they know what to do with. Benjamin's pure power, baby. Nothing can stop the almighty dollar sign.

That's why we keep our eyes on them, our dollar signs. These mindless thralls that wander the streets we call ours. All we have is because of them. All they have is because of us.

Without that little ping every so often to make them feel like they're important, they draw less and less away from the almighty dollar sign.

Eventually, they'll see that it's all a sham. They'll realize that it's all a power struggle. It's an obsession.

One big game of "Who the hell can hoard the most paper?".

They dedicate their lives to us, unknowingly, yet willingly.

The more paper they collect, the more powerful they become. That's why they die before they can see the world from where you and I do.

Some of them are more dangerous than others. They see past our ruse, they see our game and they think they're strong enough to become a part of it.

They too, are pawns just as all the rest are.

No matter what the case may be, the mindless demoralize those who speak out against us, shunning the thoughts of those who care to think, who care to try; those who want to make a difference.

Perhaps someday, they might.


WITH THE ADVENT OF MACHINE, Man has achieved many splendors.

Man has even replaced Man with Machine.

The coming of the age of machine means one thing though: The downfall of the almighty dollar sign. The dollar sign will no longer possess the strength of a god, machine will.

Machine will make all of Man return to it's roots. The return to nature.

In troves they will flee from cities to the darkest of shades under canopies that cast a divine shade.

Man will learn once again to work with one another and live in harmony, but in fear of the mad gods who manipulate their machines.

The gods though, will find themselves powerless.

Without their thralls, their workers, their slaves, there is no power to exercise over Man, thus, leaving the gods much less than gods. They simply become false idols.

Without any followers, they lose power, they lose their will. They submit to the power of Man and leave the Machines that they have tried to replace Man with.

The men who once sought to change the hearts of Man have had their wish granted to them. They wish not to abuse the power of leading Man, they only wish for Man to love one another as they have been made to.

They have awaited this day.

The day that Man could finally live in perfect and true harmony with it's home, it's goddess, it's mother.

Earth, the one and only god that Man should and shall ever have.

"Who am I?"

He's watching me and you both. He's around every corner, waiting for us.

Waiting for us at our weakest moment. The moment we crack.

The moment that he can make the bones in our back shatter. He hovers above us like a dark cloud, never allowing us to see the sun.

He torments us.

He dangles our happiness but within an arm's reach in front of us, but every time we grasp for it, he pulls it away.

He is all that is dark and evil in this world. He is soulless, mindless and heartless.

He doesn't even have a body.

He comes to us in the blackness of our shadow. He follows us wherever we go.

He forces us to trip on every rock, fall down every hill we climb and crushes every dream we've dreamt.

I can't speak anymore, he's watching me now as I speak this to you.

Run and hide, before he finds you, like he once had me.

XXI

You can have this head upon my shoulders, so long as it frees me from the burden of having your lovely self running through my mind all day and all night. It's become a struggle to find ways to keep you out of this head of mine. I want no more of it.

You can have this head of mine, so long as I can keep my heart. I wanted you to have it a long time ago, but now, it's all I need to stay alive. All I should care about is myself but still, here you are, sprinting through my mind all day and all night. I tried sharing my love with the world, but the world wasn't ready for it.

This beast will remain caged until the day the world proves itself worthy, or until you come along with that key I handed you, many moons ago.

Instead though, you smashed my chest, tearing tendon from tendon trying to take away from me what was rightfully mine. You claimed my mind and you hungered for my heart. Bone after bone you crushed, word by word, my screams went unheard. 

All you heard was the cracking of my backbone.

You forced me to crumble. You broke my will. I can't stand anymore. You've found my heart and you've taken it as your own.

A long time ago, you lost your own to someone much stronger than I.

He broke your cage, just as you did me. 

How you retain your sanity will forever remain a mystery to me.

So keep running, you horrid and black soul. 

Wherever you might go to run and hide, I know one place you'll always be.

And that place is here, along the track that is my mind.

Humility

It turns out no matter how strong we tell ourselves we are, we will be crushed by the weight of our actions and our words.

All so powerful; they will come back to crush us.

This fellow wouldn't be in this predicament if he hadn't cast his life aside from himself.

Here he lay now, his corpse, now coated in filth, garbage, with maggots writhing beneath his flesh.

A gruesome scene.

He believed himself to be invincible. Was he wrong?

Of course. His ego was his downfall. He let it all go to his head.

He thought he was untouchable.

The kind words of others made him think this way.

He abused them for their words of empowerment.

The flies speak the truth. The pungent scent of rot heavy in the air.

You might ask yourself, "Am I hearing things?" or perhaps, "Where are you?".

I'm watching you. He's watching you. We're all watching you.

You'll crumble just as he has.

This is a wake-up call. A warning.

Your influence that you think yourself to have is nothing but a lie.

You are not the strongest being alive.

He is an example we should all learn from.

Power is a dangerous thing.

Do not give power to fools.

Do not be the fool to receive such power.

The Arena Part 1 (TAK)

Star Date: ... Systems malfunctioning... No service available...

Octavian's gaze lies drawn to the bloodied sands where he defeated his opponent. A look of sorrow fell upon his face. A strong feeling of remorse is overwhelming his weak heart. He stands at the top, among the seats in the arena; it is completely empty. The seats are dirtied with foul remains of their occupants. Grasping the cage within his flesh and metal hands, his head falls into the rings, sending the harsh scraping of the cage's rings rubbing one another throughout the room. He's sobbing. Crying.

He knew nothing of the acts that he had committed within the sands of the arena. All he could remember was the chanting of the crowd, being face to face with another monster, like he.

Behind him, a man wearing tattered and dirty rags descends towards the sobbing monster. He is missing a leg, his right leg to be precise. Only a metal bar was left in it's place to support the man. With a frail and ginger arm, he reaches out for Octavian's shoulder to comfort him.

Octavian wasn't the least startled by this. He was still drowning within the emotional wave that had overcame him.

The man stood and gazed into the pit as Octavian wept. For long he wept.

"Octavian." The man blurted out. "It's not your fault. It's they're fault. It always has been." Octavian's head pivots to the figure behind him. A further observation reveals a large, bushy beard and his face bears an ugly scar, stretching from the reaches of his forehead, across his eye and, into the depths of his chin.

It's his father.

Wiping the tears from Octavian's face, he continues in a hushed tone. "They made you what you are. I know. They almost did it to me too." Octavian seated himself onto a bench while his father spoke on. "You're what they called... A defender. When the cities were to fall, you were to have been one of the beasts to defend against the rogue and alien forces on earth. It is a horrible fate, but you have powers like no other breathing being. You have your own strengths that no man or beast can counter."

With a smile he said: "You have the heart of a beast and the mind of a man." Octavian grinned at this too. Shouting further up in the stands alarmed Octavian and his father. "I have to go now. I'll tell you all I can later, if I'm able to reach you."

"Thank you..." Octavian paused trying to find the word- "Father."

"Good luck to you in the sands, my son." His father said as he climbed the steps of the arena.

Octavian was alone again, in the arena.

Octavian II

Star Date: Unknown, requesting maintenance... Unable to contact servers... Shutting down...

With a sudden crack, our hero awakens. From a strange chamber of some design, he collapses into blood stained sands. He quickly realizes that he is surrounded by a horde of people, seated high above him. He stood in awe of the crowd's enormity, empowered by their cries, though, he is greatly confused. Little does he know, he is in grave danger. A quick and effortless scan reveals that he is not alone in the arena of sorts.

Another chamber, almost of the exact same design is inside the arena. Octavian feels different. The look of pure blood lust and savagery fills his eyes. Octavian was much different. His body has been heavily augmented and tested upon. Small incisions rivet his skin. Carbon steel spikes line his back in an asymmetric pattern. It appears all too painful. His posture has been affected as well. The weight of a robotic arm causes him to be slightly hunched over. The most disturbing of all his augmentations would be his eye. One of his eyes were completely removed and was replaced by a small ball. He can still use it to see, somehow, but by unknown means. He doesn't notice any of this though. It's almost as if he is in a trance of some sort.

Adopting a new and natural stance, the beast within Octavian releases itself.

The pod across the arena bursts open. The crowd roars, gasps and shakes the cage that is encasing the two monsters. The audience wants blood, it is all too obvious.

A long and vicious howl blasts from the pod. silencing the crowd, they looked on with great interest. Peering into the cage with their greedy eyes. The pod shudders and the beast within erupts. A creature on all fours, two headed and with a nasty looking stinger on the end of it's tail.

The two-headed monstrosity dashes towards Octavian with an unrivaled speed. 

Octavian reacts swiftly, connecting a blow to the beast's left head with a snap. The crowd once again, roars on.

The beast raises itself to its feet and once again strategizes the next move. Octavian blinks and loses sight of the beast. Another blink and the beast's right head is tearing into his back. He tries to toss off the beast but has no luck. The two then reach a bloody stalemate as the beast claws away, ripping into the panel on Octavian's back, revealing wires and veins alike. Sensing a near death event, dubious instincts of Octavian's new self, kick in.

Beast on back, he flexes his powerful leg muscles and lunges into the air to a considerable height, reaches the ceiling and clings onto it with his mighty arms. In complete shock, the two-headed beast knows not what to do. The crowd is again, silent with anxiety and anticipation.

Octavian releases his grip on the cage and falls to the ground below, quashing the beast between the sands and his spined back.

He then peels off the beast, takes it by its two heads and rips it in half. Uncontrollable rage, happiness and excitement fills the air. Octavian emerges victorious in his first fight. He looks around again though and reaches consciousness from his rampage.

He isn't in space anymore. He's very much far from human now, too.

He is what he saw in the lab. An animal. A beast. 

But why?