Eh... Not dead yet. Suffered an allergic reaction, but still alive and will get back to OISAMOW soon.
Happy Halloween, folks.
Buildings of steel, stabbing upwards into the sky, alit with a blaze of colors. Sleek contraptions, soaring so swiftly, the very air screamed at their passing. Clamoring crowds, screaming and pushing.
Once-vibrant brown eyes stared sightlessly over the frozen wasteland. So long ago, it was once a thriving city, the likes of which the current population of the world could not even begin to comprehend.
People were shoving each other, trying to escape their fates, throwing the smaller, weaker members right into the quite literal hands of death in attempt to stave off their own, if only for a little longer.
I guess Wanda was right...
A woman's scream-
The glass windows were smashed and men could be seen looting within the shop. People were animals; thoughtless, selfish things that only-
A red-and-blue clad figure, swinging in between buildings, blood seeping profusely from his shoulder. He missed the next swing, plummeting down, down, down-
Bombs dropping from the air, igniting on the helpless and not-so-helpless hordes below.
It was chaos, unrestrained warfare. Men, women, and children alike were fleeing in vain, while others stood firm, attempting to buy them time. It was hopeless. Each one was just another body for the undead. No, not chaos. This was slaughter.
A woman covered in heavy furs backed away, holding a spear pointed at his neck. All around them, their comrades fought in attempt to destroy each other, but it that little bubble, there was only them. In the reflection of her wide eyes, he could see the two glowing pinpricks that were his own. Brighter, still, was the matching dull glow that came from where his heart should be.
Arrows, hitting him - shoulder, face, neck... heart… They did nothing to slow him down.
"Boss? Boss!"
::Many areas if Northern America, including Boston, New York, Detroit and the entirety of Canadian border has been quarantined. Authorities are now issuing-::
A round disk of metal, painted garish colors, cracking under the coldness of his hands. It gave him a muted feeling of satisfied glee, though he did not quite know why.
Slim, delicate fingers fluttering over his face, as inquisitive eyes stared into his own, undead ones. His hands shot up, grabbing the wrists before they could touch more of his tainted skin. No, not her. She couldn't be tainted by him. He had to get rid of the taint. Without another thought, he snapped her wrists and twisted until bone and flesh gave, deaf to the screams.
"Tony, Tony it's me- please!"
Who knew I'd be the one who ended the world?
The spear was batted away like the nothing it was. Calloused hands, now torn and bloody, closed around a neck - heedless of the struggling body that accompanied it - and snapped.
Haven't watched GoT yet. Don't know if my fragile psyche can handle all the... things that I hear happen in the show. Plus, I don't have the patience to watch all those seasons...
That being said, name some characters that somewhat resemble Peter Parker for me? *Puppy eyes*