*Typical disclaimer*
Symbiotic Relations
As I awake it takes me awhile to tap in to my better half's vision and for a few seconds the world is black.
It's about time you came too, I was getting lonely.
The darkness is replaced by the sight of numerous smells,sounds and other vibrations moving around the room,forming our surroundings through different shades of red. This has never failed to remind me of a world caked in blood.
Whats wrong with blood? I thought we liked it. Blood that is.
We start to feel around in the air, trying to get a better grip on our surroundings.
You're ignoring me? This one of our mooods?
Our senses stretch out around the area revealing a dank and dilapidated storage locker. We feel out the entire complex, we see body odor, blood stains and the scurry of rats; it is a scene only compatible with humanity and carnage, a scene I am apart of on one account. I have yet to figure out which.
What is this Edgar Allan Poe? We don't normally think like this!
A police siren sounds nearby and the violent sound waves force us to the ground, turning the world to a singular, deep vibrating shade of red.
"Hisssssssssssssssssraaah!"
My better half takes it a lot harder and than I do and his pain flares through us creating waves of agony that incapacitate us. The sirens pass and so does the pain, returning the world to normal. I start to hear voices outside, people.
Sssusstanacce.
We are weak, my better half is weaker.
The locker door slides open with a metallic groan as torch-light floods inward. Our senses stretch past the man with gun; tall and with an air of certainty, to the men behind; also armed but without a purpose to their movements. Their earthly weapons would be of no significance to them. The man peers into the locker seeing nothing but shadows.
"It's empty, let's move onto the next one"
"Time To feed."
"What was tha-"
As the door begins to slide closed we make our move. Our mass flows and forms until our arm solidifies into a razor sharp and lethal point that bursts through the man's chest in a spray of gore. The grotesque display sends the others scattering, their cries of alarm cutting through us, giving pause. However not for long, the Symbiote quickly regains its footing and one by one we paint the area with their blood I give protest but with each slain victim I find us becoming more Symbiote than host and my convictions begin to falter. I know that I am too weak not to become consumed by the carnage, it is someone else's duty now to stop this. But it is too late.
We are one and the same, no need to rage against the dying of the light when we are the darkness. Embrace the darknessss Casssady. Embrace the Carnage. The world is caked in blood, hmmm, we like blood.