Sy Irken's Fanart Stories
Hey peeps! Sarge here with a rather unusual story series (if it does indeed become that).
This series will be made up of mini-stories I write that were inspired by the fanart of a friend of mine on Facebook by the name of, suprise suprise, Sy Irken! This will probably not be an actual story series unless Sy decides to draw a sort of picture story that I am able to peice together. At which point, I will remove and renovate this into a proper form.
The description explination of this chapter will be at the bottom.
With that, let's begin.
Sy Irken walks slowly towards me, gyrating her hips. A sadistic smirk displayed acrossed her mouth with no small amount of pride mixed in. Who wouldn't be proud of themselves if they just destroyed their enemies entire bodyguard force by themselves?
Why oh why couldn't my town have been invaded by an idiot Irken like that kid Dib?
Her scythe, obviously made from metals unknown to man, rests loosly on her hip.
She looks like a warrior goddess from hell. She looks like a demoness of death. She looks like a Reaper of all souls. She looks... She looks-
"Beautiful..." I mutter.
I know she heard me, as the area where an eyebrow would be on a human rose, and her smirk grew even wider. She doesn't say anything though, prefering to let her weapon do the talking.
She tosses her sythe at me, and I close my eyes. I knew I was going to die.
The sound of metal cutting through flesh didn't sound though. It was replaced by metal cutting through metal.
I open my eyes again and look up, and see that the sythe instead destroyed some sort of junction box above me. My mind didn't remember what purpose that served in my lab for the moment, so I didn't put much thought into it.
She still walked over to me, knelt to met her pink eyes with my own, and placed her hand onto my cheek. She moved it down to under my chin, dragging her claws gently across my skin as she went. I shiver, but for fear, or enjoyment for whatever reason I can't fathom, I don't know.
She removed her hand, and grabbed her sythe before walking away slowly. I watched silently as she put a sway into her hips once more, and continued to sit, watching even when she left my sight.
I finally snapped out of it when something clicked for me.
The box...
It was the memory storage unit for all the data I collected on her race and the plans I concocted to kill her with.
"Son of a bitch," I seethed. "That woman will regret not killing me when she had the chance!"
But it sounded hollow, even to me.
I rubbed my hand across my face the same way she did to me... And for some reason I feel a little disappointed...
It just didn't feel the same...
Sy's picture was a self image type of thing. What it showed was her Irken form (taller than average, but still shorter than the Tallest) slowly walking towards the viewer, with a sort of sadistic/seductive grin upon her face and what looked like a sycthe on her hip (I couldn't see most of the blade), just like I described. Nothing else was in the picture, but my imaginative mind came up with this playing out as it was.
The person who's point of view told the story, is NOT a self insert. I just needed a sort of faceless character to tell the story from, so his/her (if you like to think that way) description is up to your minds unless this becomes a full blown story.
What's up with the ending?... Well, that's up for you to think on too. ;)