Orion considered it great good fortune that he wasn't dead. In a considerable amount of pain, yes, but he was far from dead. After the endling had burned his face and several of his internal organs, he'd been pretty sure he would die. Thankfully he had backup robots that didn't need to be controlled by a remote: their only programming was to keep their master alive at any cost, his motto written into their metallic skulls:
No cost too great.
This meant that half of his face was going to be made of mechanics, as well as parts of his body, but that would just make him more efficient, now, wouldn't it? Nobody would be able to tell that he was more machine than man, thanks to the organic, lab-grown skin on his manufactured bits, except for his arm, which he chose not to cover in flesh. As his base in Norway had been destroyed by the rampaging beasts, he'd decided to relocate to one of his London properties for the time being, just for a change of scenery. He hadn't expected to find what he did. Dressed neatly in a pressed dress shirt and black jacket, he sat in front of his monitors, scratching his chin as he watched the camera feed. He leaned forward in his seat when he saw the elf and the Fomorian that he'd captured at the Beacon, then leaned even farther, nearly falling out of the chair, when they returned with his Atlantean and the pet librarian. The hunter bot acted on its command to capture Orion's property and shot the Atlantean, who collapsed.
Orion sat back in his chair and smiled. He smiled so widely and for so long that his face began to hurt. Leaning forward, he pressed a button on his display.
"Bring them," he commanded, releasing the button. He watched from the hunter's perspective as it jumped up, only for the librarian to lunge forward and stomp on it, breaking it to bits. It was of no matter, though. His smile didn't falter. The key to immortal life was at his fingertips.
He just had to recapture it, first.
How he loved this game.
Beware a monster of two faces
That comes and takes others places
His spindly fingers always grasping
His awful voice always rasping
Who is this horrid creature, you ask?
This monster, he is called the Mask.
The Mask will turn you against your friend
Only to eat you in the end
He'll cut out your throat
Use your skin for a coat
But when he's asked why he did this
He'll say, his voice full of bliss,
As answering is his favourite part:
"I was simply looking for a Heart."
YOU ARE READING
𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄
FantasyThe first book of the Darkwater Saga Being edited A simple decision can cause a massive ripple in the pond of Time. In the case of Kington Lewis, a twenty-something-year-old man working as a librarian in New York City, it was the decision to chase a...
