I wake in a cold sweat, it’s the same everyday, although I don’t really classify your time as days anymore, because as soon as I landed here the separation between the light and dark has bled together covering my world in a sickening grey. It’s only pathetic fallacy that the second largest storm to hit Parodiopolis in the last ten years is raging overhead.
You might think I’m a former suit, my nickname for anyone clad in spandex or some other form of skin-tight garment, but the answer is no.
You might think I’m what you might call a foreigner, strike two, genius, get with the times.
Parodiopolis is a place where the elite seem to gather to do nothing but destroy, curse, and maim each other, why any civilians still populate the area is beyond me, then again, I’m more accustomed to running; before from a terror that decimated an entire planet in the blink of an eye, and now, from a terror that could swallow that place’s last son.
Years ago I arrived from ‘up there’ seeking vengeance against one of the leaders of that terror.
He was formerly a nameless leader, you now call him Avatar.
Until about two years ago, I was able to finally get a lock on him, then he vanished, and I’m left dealing with the fact that none of my kindred will be avenged.
The lost son, it seems, is cursed to be the last son.
I dreamt of a place far beyond the borders of this reality, where the Avatar still dwelt even now, and my dreams are never wrong, its part of my soul, and my being. I have the ability to create illusions of the mind, that and see through the fabric of time and space, but that doesn’t mean I can travel that path.
Why did I kill the two racers the other night?
No reason, chaos has become my life. Killing doesn’t bring me pleasure or pain, only understanding in watching those left behind, and how they deal with the loss. A loss I’ve carried for the last seventeen of your years. All this death, and to tell you the truth, I haven’t learned much, only that humans are a weak and fragile species that is normally too self-absorbed to realize the impact it has on itself and others. Like a virus it seems, Earth will never be rid of the infection until the next chuck of rock slams into it creating the next planetary age for them. All human traces will have been obliterated in one swift stroke.
That, I can relate to.
I’d tell you my name, so that whoever finds this could consider it a legacy and timeline of my people, but to tell you the truth, I have no name, only a number given to me by the former ruler of my home.
Once finished with it, he seemed only content in destroying the evidence of his wickedness, and my home was no more.
My world may be lost, but do yours a favour, and don’t piss me off.
A hint of a sinister grin forms across the lit portion’s of a humanoid face in the darkness.
I am Stavanger, I’ll be your reaper for the evening.
~Derek
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