The DNA stood in individual tiny jars, lined up neatly on the workbench like toy soldiers. Their translucent liquids intrigued Nekrah and reassured him his plan would work. It had to. To live forever was speculation BUT there was never any word on whether a clone could live for you. Walk like you, talk like you, lead for you, everything was like you to every acute detail. And these foreigners had just what he wanted; the cloning device of his dreams. Straightening himself and swivelling to face their cowering structures, a smug look crept along his thin lips and his green snake-like eyes shifted to take in the large, hunky machine in its glory. He nodded and one of the petrified scientists hurried over to place one of the glass jars into the mechanism, pressing the appropriate buttons and retreating back. Buttons began to twitch in light and the body began to hum steadily. Then it whirled in pain, erupted putrid black smoke and replaced Nekrah's look of glee with a grimace. The two metal gates swung open with force. It pushed out a mess of limbs and blood, contorted in agony, screaming silently and making Nekrah feel numb, deaf, dumb. The thing groped, gasped, glared in all directions and rose to kneel. Blood seeped from it's stormy grey eyes and it's long matted brown hair rested on it's skinny shoulders. Then it retched a few words. It would never remember saying them until the day it died, refusing to believe so but Nekrah would always remember. The thing reared it's head and looked dead into his sockets and rasped, "The angels called me here, and so my name is Harken".
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Harken
FantasyAn angel born from a machine. A broken dictator who plays god. A rebellion who want the worst. A man with dyed skin and few allies. All want things they cannot have: all must face the headlock of fate. Book 1 of The Mechanical Angel
