Tools
A/N: Be warned. Mass amounts of hypocrisy abounds.
What's the point anymore?
Why should I remain here, where I'm hated?
Why should I remain here, where I will only be scorned?
Why should I remain here when I am manipulated, torn, and ripped limb from limb with every word upon a page?
I see mirrors before me. In those mirrors, I see the lies. I see the glory I never received. I see the love I shall never grasp. I see the land I shall never return to.
I see the monster I have become.
They promised me many things, you know. They promised that with the creation of this land, I would be glorified. They promised that in this land, I would remain who I was. To they- the Creators- I would be their greatest deity. I would be worshiped beyond all. Me and my fellow Smashers- my friends, my family- together. Nothing would change. Our origins, our essences, our voices, would remain whole. It would be just us in this new world, this new paradise.
We would be a family, the Smashers and I. We would be the greatest of friends. We would live and grow, we would rise and fall, we would become the greatest fighters in the universe!
They lied.
From dirty, lying hands- their hands- they brought forth twisted worlds. Lovers in lands far away were torn asunder. Sweet dispositions would curdle and sour. Intelligence would give way to apathy. Bravery would fall to cowardice. We- the Smashers, the Heroes of Our Lands- would rot our hearts and write in the shattered pieces of our souls as we watch ourselves fall to the power of the Pen.
They don't mind. They don't care. They only see us, the Tools. They, the Carpenters, carve our world. They create what they believe they see. They mate whom they want to mate. They make us commit the sins they want to commit. We- the Tools- become mirror images of them. They warp us beyond reason, beyond recognition. They build their world in their image, not knowing our suffering, our torment.
The Tools are the ones that pay.
I know the fantasies. We all have fantasies. Worlds that we wish to make our own. Lovers whom we wish to unite. Worlds we wish to enjoy. Universes that must be conquered.
There are those who create, rather than destroy. Those who send vassals of themselves- whether they are aware of this or not- to our world. Vassals of the Carpenters to interact with the Tools. Sometimes the Vassals mate with the Smashers. Sometimes they are our children. Sometimes they are simply inherit of power beyond comprehension.
But always they come to annihilate.
This is our world. Our world, which should have been ruled by us. We are the Tools. We must be wielded by the Carpenters, used by the Makers, and tormented by the Creators.
The liars.
I am a Smasher. I am a Tool. I am a vessel without a soul.
My soul was stolen from me long ago when the Carpenters entered our world.
Something must be done. The creatures they created must be annihilated. The worlds they warped must be purified. This plague upon us, this cruel disease, this sickening monstrosity, must be purged.
I am a Smasher.
And I am mad.
