I awoke as I always did. Pure, undying hatred seething below my skin radiated throughout my body. It was like a pleasing river of lava. I hated everything. Well...almost everything. There was one person who was, without a doubt, my best friend in the world. I turned over on the dirt ground to look into the brilliant, blue eyes that I loved so much. My face reflected in them. Distorted and twisted to reveal what lay beneath my skin. I saw so much of myself in those eyes. With a smile I brought myself up off the ground, my metal leg whirring and clanking slightly in comparison to my normal leg.
I was so excited! Why shouldn't I be. With Lil' Cal and...The Clown's help, I would be able to utterly decimate those disgusting humans. That fat whore Jane, and the tipsy, peabrained Roxy. Dirk, always so sure of himself and self important and Jake, that ignorant whelp. They wouldn't die...Well I shouldn't get ahead of my self now should I. I cackled ever so slightly.
My grin slowly slipped from my face and dragged down the corners of my mouth. Something felt off. Looking around I saw the same boring ass tower with it's multitude of screens observing the self important idiots lying on their Godtier beds. Only a few screens remained darkened. It didn't matter. None of that would matter soon enough. I continued turning in a circle. Same blank boring hills and dusty plains. Finally, I returned to my original point. Nobody but me and Lil' Cal...Oh.
The clown. He wasn't here. Where was that moronic fucking clown. Usually that immortal asshole wouldn't leave me alone. Hell, he even stood watch over me every night. Just standing in the same spot, throughout the night, immobilized. But he wasn't anywhere. For some reason that made me nervous. I put it out of my mind. I didn't need the clown, no,"All I need is Lil' Cal." I spoke aloud.
I made my way to the screens. Checking and rechecking everything before beginning. Just to make sure and maybe ease my nerves. Of course, the clown's past self was on Prospit, with the other Lil' Cal to give to the imprisoned carapacian. But his present self should be right here though! Damn it. I kept telling myself it didn't matter but I was getting worked up again. I rolled my eyes. At that awkward angle I saw it.
Looking out of the corner of my eye, head sightly turned upwards I could see it. It had been placed so the edges faced me. A thin line, imperceptible if I looked at it straight on. That's why I had missed it. A giant screen. As I craned my head continuously I began to make out more details.
It had been divided into four subsections with the lower right hand section sporting a giant hole in it. Like a broken window. The rest of the screens were darkened as if the screen had been unplugged. The hole...it looked as if it was too deep for the screen. I started towards it, entranced. Had this screen always been here? No..I'm sure I would've have noticed it. Wouldn't I have?
As I came closer I noticed a figure clan in varying shades of red leaning against the screen, to the left of the hole. He looked like he was wearing pajamas. He had short, almost white, blond hair. His mouth was set in an emotionless line and his posture made it look as if he wasn't even trying to stand. In his left hand he lazily held a broken sword that pointed downward to the ground, dripping the clown's blood. The clown himself lay in multiple pieces that spasmed every so often. I almost stopped at the shocking sight but continued trudging forward. I had to find out who that kid was.
When I was almost five yards away the boy lifted his head, revealing a pair of shades. They hid all the emotions his mouth was unable to cloak. He didn't speak as I came to a stop. I'm sure I looked angry. I always looked angry. However, I was in fact confused. Okay, maybe a bit angry. Also...scared. The clown had survived a torrent of bullets that tore through him from my gun. Several times. Over and over again. How did this guy do this to him? And why did he look so similar to...
"Dirk?"
He tilted his head to either side, which probably was his way of shaking his head. He slowly stood to his full height, which wasn't very tall. Then he spoke, his voice as cool as ice,"Wrong Boy English." He paused as if he expected me to know the answer. Or maybe not. I don't know what was going through his head. He just stood there. Then when the silence became unbearable he said one, single thing. One word.
"Dave."