PROLOGUE
Notes: Welcome to the prologue to The Chronicles Of Bleak, COB for short. It's a Fanfic based of FFVIII-2 of about(in More detail than what's previously written) a specific storyline about a sociopath who almost takes out the world.(And a damn good few cities too)
A burning field on the Galbadia continent, not much left. Thousands of soldiers laying waste on the ground. All cloaked in the same mysterious black. Not much could be said but it was a fierce battle. Four soldiers all from Garden. Seed or not it didn't matter as a figure crouched there naked as the sun. He smirked evilly.
His name was Bleak. He did not know how he came to being only that he did so at the end of the battle, a spark of light had sent the warriors of to a distant land. The one remainder was and old woman with a long broad staff coming to finish the job. It was strange, in bleaks mind that such a small group could fend of an army of thousands. There was something special about them, something of a pure goodness. It left a sour taste in his mouth.
His shoulder length white hair flicked with the wind, and his hollow grey eyes were piercing and full of hate. He looked up to the woman. Her features were grey and withered. She had seen to much of this world and she came to finish him. He grabbed a metal pole lying in the ground near him and swung it round getting to grips with it. He found he could grasp everything quite quickly. He could already seem to walk.
The woman broke out into a run and brung her staff down on top of Bleak. He hit the ground and rolled swinging his pole at her legs causing her to topple o the ground. As she did her stick came and knocked him down again too and she hit him from afar with force, despite her distance and age.
Bleak spun round and got up and in one final effort brung his pole down into her skull pinning her on the ground. He laughed to himself as blood spewed out, he loved it. The look of it, the feeling of power. He knew what he was here to do.
He stood up and made his way across the plains towards the distance. The wind rustled and he broke out into a run. Desperate to get away and cause more pain, more suffering. His birthright, his reason for being. He didn't look back but if he did he would realise that the warriors had returned and had seen a glimpse of him. Not that it mattered, he had his goal and his destination.
Hours later he was crawling, tired but desperate to go on. He could see a farmyard and a local farmer was rushing to help him. A blanket was thrown around him and he was picked up. He was exhausted and his eyes closed.
For days he was nursed back to health, unable to move. Spoon-fed to a degree. But his strength returned and the farmer asked him to work on the farm, Bleak was to weak to fight him but strong enough to start so naturally he said yes. Thus he began, the farmer teaching him about the world, and about life. The thing Bleak learned most eagerly about was plants, how they live. HE saw a connection to the planet and how they live within the plants. With that he realised how to kill, how to hurt. To make it burn the soul. That gave him hope, witch made him sick. Hope was for the weak. Bleak knew nothing but malice.
At first the jobs where pretty simple, crop the hedges. Feed the chickens, kiddie stuff. But soon Bleak found he was doing harder jobs. Mowing the fields, carrying the corn bags- corn bags were literally that, bags full of corn- all of witch seemed to build a strength inside him. He had an iron will, unbreakable.
Yet after a month it was time for Bleak to leave. He grabbed the farmer pitchfork and headed out into the field were the farmer was working. He had basic clothes witch they had so kindly provided so he would at least not have to stoop to the level of a common criminal and steal. He stood next to the farmer and laughed. The farmer looked at him
"What's so funny?" He asked.
"Nothing, well life in general. Im leaving now" Bleak replied in a dark tone.
"Oh come to do some last minute jobs eh?" queried the farmer eyeing the pitchfork.
"Something like that" Bleak chortled and brung the pitchfork through the farmers chest leaving blood spilling everywhere across the field.
Wandering into the house Bleak called out to the family. The farmers eldest daughter came running to him she was seven. Bleak raised the pitchfork and the mother came screaming at him with a knife.
"DON'T YOU TOUCH HER YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD" She screamed.
Bleak smiled and brung the pitchfork round at her and there was silence. The girl started weeping and Bleak turned and smiled. Hours later special forces arrived and found two bodies hung on the clothes line, skinned alive, brutally tortured before death.
They never found Bleak, they never knew he even existed. But sure enough he was far away walking down the train tracks towards the most peaceful place on the planet, Fisherman's Horizon. His intent as always to cause destruction. But first he was going to get some hired hands available.
/End