Oolu - One Armed Army

The masses always pick on the odd one out. For a society obsessed on being independent we sure cut down anyone that dares to be different.

Not that I care, I gave up giving a shit about what society has to say a long time ago. Pity that society still thinks I need to be told. I am the outcast of the outcasts. Double amputee with shiny metal limbs. Cyborg, monster, freak is what most people call me; my name is actually Oolu, another point of ridicule. Add to that my screw the world attitude and I am a prime target for the meat heads and their lapdogs. No one stands up for me. No one speaks out, so I take the abuse. The cuts, the humiliation, the loneliness, I take it all standing up.

Lately we have come to a mutual understanding, they leave me alone. They don’t get cut back, they don’t mysteriously fall ill before a game, they don’t have mystical car troubles. You see while they may have numbers and brute strength I have resilience… and magic.

That’s how it used to be. I was once the bottom of the pack, the runt of the Litter. But I found my mate, despite their beatings and torment… unfortunately he was the one responsible for all of it. Son of the Alpha, spoilt rotten, could get away with murder if he so choose. Rejected me in front of his friends, ripped away part of my soul, left me in the dust, beaten and broken. So I left. I left the house, I left the Pack, I left the country. I left the continent. I crossed mountain ranges, swam across rivers, hid on boats, in planes and under trucks. During the next 10 years I changed. No longer was I a lost kid sniveling in the dirt, a runt of a werewolf with no friends, now I was one of the strongest Ngahere, I am Tane Mahuta by title. I have friends that walk down Broadway and friends that lurk in the alleyway. I no longer fear, I am to be feared.