Invictus
Chapter 1
How? How could this happen? Thoughts were bounding around in Caleb's head in between the haze that was his life after coming down from a hit of
psycho. His head buried in his hands which were enclosed in torn tattered gloves, the loose fabric itching at his scalp was agitating him a great deal. As his
senses gathered themselves he smelt smoldering flesh, heard; above all the wails of wounded and withdrawing followers strewn about him above his own ever
present thoughts, the clamor of other followers barricading the single door to his "temple" shouting and gunshots coming from the outside corridors distant at
first, but gradually drawing closer and closer. Above all he felt the weight of his modified Service rifle; bayonet still dripping blood, resting upon his lap. He smirked
at the mere thought of his prized possession. He was always good at "modifying" things. His thoughts jumped to his "modified examples" there grotesque
corpses dancing in his mind losing his subtle smile his thoughts turned once again to the rifle, the final memory of his life before all of this, all this power and
influence. His thoughts drifted to those times. He had to fight through the fog that covered them, this was always a momentous task though he finally drifted into
memory and all the things clamoring about him the things he smelt and heard. All he felt sunk away, everything except the weight of his rifle…