I step out, into the hot, harassing air and step forward. I adjust the mask plastered to my face, assuring myself that I have a steady supply of breathable oxygen. I walk quickly, searching for it. The landscape of this planet is so diverse and insufferable and I instantly hate being here.
I hate Earth.
I am back here again, heeding the call that my mission beckons me to. I take notice of the dead silence that hangs in the air over the forest. Not even a chirp. I step gently into the forest, taking special care to make a lot of noise.
The noise will send them running.
And it does. Five- no, six- burst out of the clearing, firing their petty weapons at me. My reflexes take over and their bullets, fired seconds before, don't even graze me. I move, and time itself bows before me, bending to my will. I kill two instantly, snapping their necks apathetically.
I have better things to do.
I shoot two more down, using their own weapons; the weapon becoming even more lethal in my hand, at my very touch. There are two more vermin left, and I am getting anxious.
It shouldn't take this long.
I take a step forward, firing the weapon in my hand. It didn't hit my intended target; instead, one of the little pests jumps, taking the bullet for the other vermin.
One target to go.
My last target scurries away, leaving a pitifully obvious trail behind it in its frantic escape. I chuckle darkly to myself, and follow it ominously.
I might as well enjoy my last kill.
I launch myself into a run, catching up to it quickly. And in the moment, I feel its heartbeat, and hear it's breath; its life will soon be mine. It stumbles ahead of me, and I know I have won.
A centuries-long war ended in a seconds-long chase. Besides, I am the greatest of my kind: I never falter, never fail, never tire.
I am the masterpiece.
It cries out in pain, and my ears drink in the sound; it stumbles to a nearby pond, and falls in final defeat.
I walk slowly now, counting my steps.
There she lies.
The last human.
Now she will die at my hand, like so many of her species before her. I kneel at her side, smiling down at her wickedly.
"Are you ready to die?"
My voice pierces the ethereal silence surrounding this moment. She gazes up at me, not with fear or defiance, but with understanding.
"Yes," She says, her voice calming the air around us. "I am ready to die. But are you?"
I scoffed at her words and drew out a long, jagged knife. The knife was from an old friend.... My first victim.
"I will never die." I spat my words at her. She laughed, coughing heavily. It struck me that she was already dying.
"Yes you will," She said simply. "You are human."
"No," I growled, rising to my feet. For surely I was far more ineffable than any mere human; I am the masterpiece. "I AM NOT HUMAN!" I bellowed, causing the trees to bend and crack, and the Earth to shake. Her ears started bleeding; her breath coming in short, small gasps.
I lean close to her and whisper words she will never hear:
"You have lost. Humanity is dead. I have killed them all! I have killed the last one." I whisper triumphantly, and even as I do, too late I realize my folly.
"No," She whispers back vehemently. "I have killed the last one."
And then I feel it.
The cold, hard knife that has always done my bidding, is buried deep in my chest. It has served another master. Warm blood spills from the mortal wound in my chest, done at the hands of a mere mortal.
When I look back at her, she is already dead. I fall to the ground beside her, choking on my own failure, my own blood.
As I lie there, I see out of the forest comes a small child. She peeks out from behind the trees.... She watches me with grim fascination and I want to scream at her.
But I don't.
I can't.
I am dying.
Just like a human.
Her voice plays in my head and I glance back at the small child.
She was not the last one, and neither am I; neither is this small child.
And so it is.
Humanity prevails.
