Simular Beings

Sparks From the Afterlife

An electrifying net had sprayed out from the end of the leader's gun. It had tightly wrapped around the Creator, exposing only his head and neck.

He knew what this was—a paralysis net. It was meant to capture individuals through electrocution. To him, it didn't really have any effect, but the net itself was hardy enough to withstand his weakened attempts of escape.

"Why are you trying so hard?" The situation didn't phase him one bit. It'd take more than this to bring him down.

"Because I have a family to feed!" she cried. "I'm sure you can't relate."

"I'm sure I can."

"Oh really? Then pay up!"

"Drug trafficking should suffice, should it not?" It was simpler and most likely easier. Why would they risk their steady business for him?

"Sweetie's got a few extra treats. That's all. Now pay up!" She pulled out yet another gun from inside her vest. "This one's real. I won't ask twice, nouveau. I don't give a shit about what happens to you. Pay up if you still want a life. I can spend that kind of money better than you ever could."

He looked the weapon over. "That gun can't kill me."

There was a loud bang and a flash of the muzzle. But as expected, the bullet didn't pierce through.

"Like I said."

She pulled out a little device and held it up for him to see—a data breach drive.

"I wouldn't suggest that," the Creator replied. He already knew what she was up to. She was planning on extracting information from him through the connection port on his neck.

"And why's that? Because you'll lose your secrets to a lowly punk like me?" She let out an unexpected cackle. Then she hovered the device over his neck port, readying to plug it in. "Should've surrendered sooner."

"I'm serious. You'll die."

He wasn't bluffing. There were various anti-malware and protection software installed in his neural operating system. Any form of viral or rogue programs were to be eradicated immediately, and if severe enough, his most destructive failsafe would activate—

Raijin Drums.

Available on a month to month basis, it was an exorbitant premium subscription module for those within the upper echelons of society. When activated, a satellite would shoot down an artificially generated bolt of lightning at the site of the user, executing all who were within vicinity. Only the user—usually physically enhanced to the point of near-perfect electrical nullification—would survive.

But the leader ignored his words and proceeded. She positioned his neck so that the port was visible, held the device securely in her grasp, and started to plug it in. And the moment the device was fully locked in place—

A flash of light. Then a deafening boom. The earth shook like a million explosions. And within seconds...

It was over.

The Creator pulled the damaged net off from his body. It tore away without much resistance. The air around him fizzled, and there was a quiet hissing noise in the background. Everywhere around him smelled of burnt plastic.

He sighed. Nobody ever seemed to listen to his warnings.

The rest of the Taipan Riders grunts stood watching from the sidelines, speechless and unmoving. For a few long, unending seconds, no words were spoken. Not from him. Not from anyone who had seen what had happened.

The Creator gazed over at the body of the leader, burnt to crisps and still as stone. She wasn't breathing; her heart had stopped. He already knew she was dead before it even hit. The preliminary trials for Raijin Drums always resulted in a ninety-nine percent mortality rate. And there were almost no exceptions to that rule.

"Let's go." The teen who had initially reported him to the leader started gathering the crowd of disheveled, onlooking goons. He walked out of the parking lot, shoulders slumped like the rest. "Taipan Riders out..."

The ones who could still walk scurried along with him. They never turned back, tired and intent on following their new leader. There was no remorse for the fallen, no tears wept for the dead. Only Goliath remained, hunched, peering down at its now deceased owner.

He could see it—deep, underlying sorrow. As water welled up in its eyes, pouring over like miniature tidal waves, he could truly see the heartfelt emotions not visible in the others. It had knelt beside the deceased figure with one hand resting over her head, holding tightly to what remained of her.

How ironic. Somehow, with all that he'd been thinking, he thought he could relate to this creature that didn't seem all that human. But perhaps it was more human than him, considering that Mother had once called him a monster.

He wondered, contrary to the norm, if the creature had truly been treated well. In any similar circumstance, it would've been assumed that experiments like these were done with greed and malice in mind, but in the creature's expression, there was a solemn sincerity, conviction. There were intelligence behind those eyes.

"Go." He motioned for the beast to leave. Before the authorities arrived. "Take her with you if you wish."

Goliath looked up one last time. There were only tears—wet and heavy tears that swamped the earth below. It caressed her deceased body for a brief second longer before leaping away with what remained of her in its arms.

Hopefully, to somewhere far away.

The sun didn't look too bright anymore. He was getting used to it now. After all, this was no different from Simular. Everyone was still fighting to survive, struggling to find their own destinies within this gap in time between life and death.

In the end, being at the top was no different from those groveling at the bottom. They were all puny humans in the grand scheme of life. They were all cursed to feel, have emotions. They were all the same like himself—a commonality, a nobody. Like...

His eyes widened.

Like a dandelion...

Perhaps Mother had merely wanted a simple life devoid of such lavish luxuries. Perhaps she truly was happier before. Back when they were still scrounging for food, back in that old, decrepit home of his...

The destruction of the apartment complex around him seemed all the more pitiful to his eyes. He'd taken away so many lives, ruined all that he'd had in the past. For what? Money? Validation? None of that mattered when the one person you loved so dearly was dead. And all this time, all he needed to do was take a step back, take some time to understand her.

Perhaps, like the leader of the Taipan Riders, he too needed to atone. Like the leader, perhaps he, the almighty Creator, deserved death too.