master future

5- Walking With a Crown

     I ran towards the crowd that was growing as time sped away. This is a very 'scary' situation; indeed. It's scary to think that we are being attacked, it is scary to think that we might lose, it is scary to think that me or my friends could die, and it's scary to think that I don't care if I die. It's true, I wouldn't blink an eye if I were to collapse and never come back (probably because dead people can't blink but you get the idea). I would, however, mourn the deaths of any of whom I may be close, which isn't very many. The only special people in my life are Belle and my mother, and I only know the whereabouts of one of them.

     I know it's sad to think 'who would ever make a character such as me not know where her mother is?' Well, many people do it whether it be for a dark plot, to give character like me depth, or just because they can. I personally, have no as what category I would be placed in as I have no depth, my vision of darkness is disabled and I can't get into the head of any puppeteer.

     As I go over such conversations with myself I whip the cold axe that is taller than me off of the armor piece that secures the handle to my back out. It's a gorgeous weapon and it shames me to use it to end the lives of others as it is such a hassle to clean it afterwards. It was heavy, but nothing I couldn't handle. I find myself drawing closer to one of my unknown enemies and I prepare myself to attack. I run faster as I grip the handle tighter, we are now about one foot away. I screech to a halt as I raise my weapon, all color that was once known to his face has evaporated. I could feel his pulse in the ground I stand on. "No no no no no!" He screamed and pleaded to be spared but I couldn't trust his word, I couldn't trust anyone.

     Enough time has been wasted, I swing my arms around the side and front of my torso and get a clean hit to his neck. I loud Crack could be heard from miles away as he falls to the ground like a toy without stuffing. I was quite proud of myself as it usually takes more than one try to decapitate a person, I did well. I continue this for awhile with my comrades by my side. When I found the time to do so, I pull an old bag from my 'belt' and fill it with the heads of my victims. I know this is strange and people of your time would say 'fucking edgy' to better yourselves of my habits but this is a hunter family tradition. It's like mounting stuffed deer heads to the wall of your home except they are human. It's a trophy for killing and is only looked at as a horrible thing to do because people are scared and selfish and own up to fake sympathy.

     It's truly sickening how my very race acts this way with double standards, which is probably the spawn of 99% of our problems. What are we going to do about it? Nothing, we did nothing and look where it got us. Now we are struggling to survive in a world where we once thrived. Well not me, I found this organization when I was younger and saw it as some sort of sanctuary in another world. Which it was but not for everyone, we have to kill people just to get in and stay in. It's awful but I've grown numb to the lack of morals in this place.