Splice (Rammstein Fanfic)

Crazy (New, Edited, Better)

I haven't finished editing it yet but I want some opinions on it so yeah xx Little problem, um having technical difficulties with my phone still. I have removed the original of this chapter and republished it. Coincidentally, the main character's name is from one of my Sims from earlier this year. Sorry :D Enjoy x Hail (Amber Heard with black hair)

Btw's REALLY LONG CHAPTER....Frickin' long as hell...
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Hail POV

My ragged breaths trailed mist behind me as I pumped my legs through the foreign terrain. The light of the moon streamed through the intertwined limbs of the forest; illuminating the path before me dimly. Sweat dripped, flowing down my neck in rivulets; intermingling with my tears and the blood splattered across my torso.

I knew nothing but fear. My body screamed out in agony; but I could not stop. I called out for Him...my Mate. Silence. He did not answer me, and dread filled my bones as realisation struck a deadly blow to my heart.

I sighed through my nose as my communication device (a.k.a Comm), bleeped out the annoying tune to Rebecca Black's 'Friday' in my earpiece. I looked at the thin implant in the flesh of my hand; connected to my earpiece via bluetooth. My hand glowed sky blue, words flashing across my palm slowly in bold black cursive script, replacing the book I had nearly finished reading:

[Message: "You owe me. Quickport to the following address- 1K5J2 Atlantia, Asteroid 093, Penthouse Suite. Serve and protect. Mush, dog. Transport will be at destination appox. 00:15 Dalxjyn time. Thanx babe (;"Received: 11:13 PM ]

I scoffed in irritation, closing my eyes, he just interrupted my reading! I concentrated mentally on the message I wanted to send. My earpiece beeped once I was finished, and the message started appearing word for word on my palm.

[Message: "Fine. Pay my rent. I'll be there when I get there. Ttyl, oh and FUCK YOU. Thanks 'boss' -_-* P.S I owe you nothing but middle fingers for interrupting my book" Sent: 11:15 PM].

The hand implant is really just a computer screen used to display whatever contacts are stored in the brain of the user and also is used for video calls and applications.

I smirked, sending a picture of me flipping the bird. The process is too complicated to explain, so just imagine some weird finger camera go-pro thing. Yes, my boss is an asshole and yes we engage in what I like to call 'playful banter' from time to time. At first glance, some would say it's flirting...I would tell those people to shove their opinions so far up their asses until they're choking and gasping for air.

I swiped across the screen and saved my book for later, disabling the text app.

Besides, I would never EVER, even in my wildest dreams, be attracted to that...that slab of dollar signs and repugnant cheeseburger grease. Never. Ever. My boss, his name is D'Artagnan. He literally had his name changed to D'Artagnan (that kid from 'The Three Musketeers'). It was a bet that he lost once, and I never cease to point out how idiotic he is for even taking that bet.

Anyways, his old name was Eryk. He's a half-human, half-Krozynk Arms dealer. One of the best in this Galaxy, in fact. And I had the pleasure of being his friend/mercenary.

I scoffed, double checking that my whip-sword was still wrapped tightly around my waist in its belt sheathe. A whip-sword - well mine in particular - is a whip with jagged teeth of sharp metal (they fold down and away, of course) that shoots out bolts of electricity. When the red button on the metal handle is pressed, it morphs into a beautiful long-sword; and the sword can be split in two. When it's dormant, my whip sword slips into a sheathe that disguises it as a belt. Thankfully, it is lightweight and easy to manouevre with. My dream weapon. I'm a walking artillery in itself. Rambo, eat your heart out.