Ooc; Not mine, at all. Shifty is bible passages, old Testament(I thinks). Normal is Kimbley's sight/thoughts. Fat for sort of speech.
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Six six six
I suck at angst.
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The world was ending.

It was the only explanation the infamous- in this country- Crimson could think of as the world went boom. That was a nice word, boom. Very nice, actually. It was so nice Zolf Kimbley had a rather hard time not singing it as he decomposed things and people left and right. Boom boom boom. Very pretty, graceful almost.

And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion: and the dragon gave him his power, and his seat, and great authority.

The people had no where to go, no where to run, triangles of blue the last any of them would see- if they even did see the man with blue hair standing on the cliff. Kimbley's men stood back, guns loaded and ready, though none moving forward to get in the Crimson's way. Red stones flashed through the air as near-yellow eyes sneered at all of those people running, trying to get away in fruitless attempts. His mind was being lost by the second, drifting off like all those pretty little stones...

And I saw one of his heads as it were wounded to death; and his deadly wound was healed: and all the world wondered after the beast. And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshipped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?

Boom boom. Why was he doing this again? Because it was fun, a side argued. But no, it wasn't fun, it wasn't fun at all. Where was Greed when you needed him? The war was going smoothly enough- but it was so /boring./ Zolf didn't even have to try, really, just a simple pat pat and it was all over for those little religious nuts.. But he knew one of those nuts. A while back, right? Something was hazed back there- clouding his judgement, if he had any left. Crimson snarled as all the huts and houses fell unbidden, crumbling like the dunes outside of the rock dome, though he had nothing left to do at that point. After all, all those others were ending it like he was in different areas.

The beast was given a mouth to utter proud words and blasphemies and to exercise his authority for forty-two months. He opened his mouth to blaspheme God, and to slander his name and his dwelling place and those who live in heaven. He was given power to make war against the saints and to conquer them.

The smoldering heat that radiated from the destroyed, broken town soared upwards in white and black smoke- anguished screams filling the world as explosions were heard, closer to that foundation they called a temple.. Hah. Didn't look much like a temple of 'God' now- standing barely over a city of burning buildings and dying people, some fleeing like insects to a light towards what were probably secret ways out- one signal and the troops were sent, the alchemist following his own order and tailing behind them like the sick dog he was to become.

And he was given authority over every tribe, people, language and nation. All inhabitants of the earth will worship the beast-all whose names have not been written in the book of life belonging to the Lamb that was slain from the creation of the world.

Either killing a sheep or lamb made no difference- one just screeched louder than the other. They both were the same in everything else, to the Crimson's eye. This would be the final night, he knew it- it had to be, 'cause the beast was gonna come, and it would all end. Sad, really. He was starting to really like the sounds that were made, the rhythm they sang to, the beat in which they took up. Just like his boom. Mister Snap-happy may have looked, last Kimbley had saw him, ready to fall over, but he was just bursting with energy. Hadn't someone once said that was bad?

He who has an ear, let him hear. If anyone is to go into captivity, into captivity he will go. If anyone is to be killed with the sword, with the sword he will be killed. This calls for patient endurance and faithfulness on the part of the saints.

What were they doing. They were hesitating. They were being weak. Disgraceful. Not his unit, not his men. Kimbley's lip curled up again, bloodshot eyes dilating on the protesting crowd that had somehow thought they could go against them all. Somehow. How did they get out of the cliffs? Who knew. A sandstorm was coming, or, it would be coming. Crimson didn't mind much, the desert was actually pretty nice. Really so when horrible winds were ripping through the world, covering everything and everyone. Like his men. Damn, that would be a problem, wouldn't it? How did he explain that one, who knew. Ah well. Archer wouldn't let a pawn like himself out of his sight for long- right?

Then I saw another beast, coming out of the earth. He had two horns like a lamb, but he spoke like a dragon. He exercised all the authority of the first beast on his behalf, and made the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose fatal wound had been healed.

What was that? Screaming? But that wasn't the religious nuts' screaming, that was his men's. Why were they making that racket? It really was off-key, going against his little mental song. The alchemist barked out an order, raging almost as bad as the sandstorm that was starting up. He wanted to be there, damn it, he wanted to /watch/ those red-eyed freaks surrender, to lose, like they were destined to do. But he couldn't just leave these weaklings in a sandstorm- who knew what the officers would think, would say. Believe it or not, he didn't want to be thrown inside of a cage and locked up like a bad puppy. He wanted to be the bulldog, the pitbull, the one of top in the ring of fighting. Shutupshutup.

And he performed great and miraculous signs, even causing fire to come down from heaven to earth in full view of men. Because of the signs he was given power to do on behalf of the first beast, he deceived the inhabitants of the earth. He ordered them to set up an image in honor of the beast who was wounded by the sword and yet lived.

So annoying, those off-key screams. He was trying as hard as he could, so stop all those girlish whining, you're soldiers for the Fuhrer's sake! Annoying, annoying. Kimbley staggered slightly, wondering how on earth these, apparently, last forces had gotten guns. So desperate, clinging onto that stupid temple- he didn't like that temple- it was big and annoying and symbolizing and annoying- so very, very annoying. The lanky man skulked through the crowd, decomposing everything as he went, like the devil's steps had on the plants of the world. She was watching him, he knew it, with those eyes, that one girl- what was her name- she was the only sane one, yea, the only one Zolf could tell wasn't giving his radical beat an off-key, the only one actually doing her job.. Shutupshutupshutup..

He also forced everyone, small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on his right hand or on his forehead, so that no one could buy or sell unless he had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of his name.

Temple go boom, temple go boom! He wasn't insane, he hadn't lost it- that stupid temple was so annoying, so deathly annoying, it wasn't his fault the crowd and his soldiers had been under it- wasn't his fault the rubble killed most of them- wasn't his fault he'd finally got rid of those off-key screeches, wasn't his fault he'd finished them all off- what the difference between sheep and lambs anyway, huhuh, nothing that's what- finally, he could flip to his beat, his Boom, only his, and there she was with those green eyes, watching in a silent matter- not interrupting him, oh no, she was smart, she was the good girl, the good doggy, the good little soldier that didn't scream. She wouldn't tell the Fuhrer, no she wouldn't, wouldn't get Mister Boom thrown into a cage- oh, but he may have, that fleeing man with the white hair.. Who was that guy.. He'd show him, yes he would. Follow him and that red cloaked guy and that group they were joining- oh, the sandstorm was getting big now, big and bad and perfect for his little song.

Wasn't the date sixth of the sixth of the sixth?

The soldiers were coming. Nosey brats. They heard one little boom beat and they all went into a panic, following him all the way here, all the way out in this desert- but he had to get that snowy guy, that stupid little rat that had saw and was running away with his red cloaked friend- not good girl, but snow guy, the bad guy, yes. Now he could remember that idiotic story, from that old torn up book the scientists had found- mark of the beast, was it? Yea, yea, he'd get that guy- on the head and right hand, yea- Oops. Head it was, then, that stupid rat, losing an arm like that.. Mister X, he'd finished Mister X off, he'd finish the person who now held his own little beastly mark, if it wasn't for those nosey soldiers- so noisy, nosey, same same. Crimson would get Mister X, eventually, just wait and see, 'cause he wasn't going to be in a cage forever. Cats may have the lives but dogs had the numbers and names.

He really should have found Scar's name out.

This calls for wisdom. If anyone has insight, let him calculate the number of the beast, for it is man's number. His number is 666.
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Whoa. I guess if you really have a sick mind, this could be Martel/Kimbley, or Scar/Kimbley. But it ain't. I tried to get that freaky effect, from sane to insane,(Or simple to confusing) within the 18 phrases of that tale in the Bible. And I know, the war probably wasn't on 1906, but it /is/ June 6, 2006. Write it out. And go ahead and flame- this was just an impulse writing. If it's so bad, tell me. Yea, uh.. I literately just grabbed a name out of a hat and wrote about a horrible time that took place in the person's history. Go figures I got Kimbley.
..And before I shut up, holy crap, I reread the passages like five times and still am shocked. The second last passage talks about the marks, aye? ...Yea, Scar scares me now. .-.;

;-- Smoe the Digiloser