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Ghosts in the gears

By Di_Mencia All Rights Reserved ©

Action / Fantasy

War

So silent here in space, it is deafening. You humans have no idea how small your planet is to us Horsemen. I’ve watched countless galaxies at the same time, all fighting for the same reasons no matter the size of the conflict. I witnessed the collapse of two warring species that developed weapons of such massive destructive capabilities, all four of us went to intervene, but we were too late. The one located in Skaro absorbed the entire Seventh galaxy and the one in Betelgeuse destroyed the entire Kasterborous galaxy, constellation and all.

Two beautiful races, masters of Time and Space with technology to rival the might of the forces of Heaven, gone. Just like that. And now the same is happening here on the rock you call Earth. This time we are ready. This time, we won’t be late if things get out of proportion.

To fight is something I understand, don’t get me wrong. I am the embodiment of the primal need to achieve victory no matter how small the problem. When you are wronged and feel your vision tint red, you hear your heart thump faster, stronger. Adrenaline surges through your veins. It’s why I like sports like american football. The need to run fast and if necessary beat down the opposition until the only thing left is a crying wreck of an opponent. To rub in their faces the fact that beside their best efforts it was not good enough.

I always enjoy watching the NFL. The players in the field are the strongest in their teams, and if I like their primal need to fight and battle and destroy I give them my blessing.

I make them stronger, faster. I make their reflexes better and if necessary, sharpen their instincts. I then watch as two unstoppable forces barrel towards each other, their team diving out of the way and the blast as they reach each other. Muscle ripples, sinew grows taut and blood mixes freely with adrenaline as two mountains of muscle and bone collide, to test each other and see who is stronger.

I have no tolerance for failure, and whoever gives in one inch of ground I take away my gift from them. Whoever is strongest then destroys the weaker force. A victory for the winning fighter, a lesson for the loser. Next game, the loser tries harder, better, gives in no ground and so becomes the victor.

Now I watch as the armies of Earth kill each other, drench the ground with blood in my name. But I do not accept these sacrifices, there is no reason for them to fight. I am War, not Senseless Slaughter. Those that kill in my name with their heart away from me are liars and are punished. America fights for freedom. They fight in the wrong countries though. I could easily wipe out this planet. It is an offense to what I stand for, it is an offense to life, a mistake, an aberration. Yet I have not been given the order to ride on the dirt, my horse grows restless and my blade is sick with the blood of heathen sacrifices.

I wait for the order. I wait for the trumpet to sound, so I may cleave this planet in half and drink its warm blood.


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