He snarled, just like this animal. He hated the guttural sound he made deep within him too, because it also reminded him of this animal. He hated all the animals in the forest. He hated them all. Disgusting little creatures, running on his land he knew many people could call their future homes. He wanted this land so much. He had all the ideas, his blueprints to his city, scurrying around in his head, and he wanted all these animals out of his sight. People shouldn't be denied jobs, opportunities, and new homes in his new city. These filthy vermin had to go, go, go!
He discovered this place, which he learned these animals called Neo Geo Forest, while he tried to find some free open space to build Metropolis, his city that he promised would fulfill everyone's dreams. And he will, when these germs, these little diseases on feet, will go away!
What a pathetic little rodent, he echoed in his mind. Look at it, so weak and frail and useless. It kept asking him if he could go back home. No, it couldn't. He committed a great sin: being on his land. And it was time for him to be punished, to suffer the consequences of simply being alive.
He pushed a button on the machine, this mouse not being the same once it rode the conveyor belt. It tried to escape, tried to move upwards, but it was futile, he said. You are simply a product now. You have no name. You have no home, no family, no life, no purpose. You belong to me, and only me, and you will feel no anger, no pity, no sorrow, no happiness, except you will only know the satisfaction of serving me. Stare at all the fragments of your life that you have now, even if this is a terrifying moment, because you disgusting creature, you will forget it, and you will no longer know of any pain.
The mouse screamed, but there was only one sudden flash of light in the machine, then silence.
He stared at the byproduct in awe. The mouse had feathers, and wide wings that were almost bigger than its entire body itself, golden fluff, a small beak, and slit eyes and talons now. Its tail, ears, and whiskers remained, but they became grossly enlarged, and this creature that knew no creator or god except this man could only look at him with hate and spite, knowing that he was successful. He was a monster now, a creature that had the DNA of two, becoming as wretched as this man himself, a chimera.
The first success of many, he thought. He might as well use their lives this way, to be like him, and to serve him. They were simply his little war toys, his green plastic army men and plastic tanks and grenades. Except they were anything but plastic. They were actual weapons, and they will serve him well.
He suffered for far too long, he also thought. So after all these years of suffering, he devoted himself to science, to creating myths and legends that he wanted people to believe, and have people regard him as much as the thunderbirds he created in his lab. They screeched at him, their white wings flapping and brewing a storm and thunder crackling as their eyes streaked with blinding jagged light, like white blazing fires that could not be tamed. They screeched and boomed, and they silenced when he gave them another mouse to him, another one he captured, the chimera's brother.
And it could only stare with disinterest as the thunderbirds tore him apart and swallowed his bits and pieces whole. He thought he could hear his name, but the cries and screams of agony drowned out his ears.
And as the birds were quieted by their meal, he went back to his typewriter, and continued to tap out his autobiography he planned to publish to all his little people.
My name is Ivo Robotnik. I was born in 1962, with a loving mother and father who I do not wish to name. I was a simple lad, with so many hopes and dreams ahead of me, waiting for me to grab them and hold on. "Follow your dreams," they all say. And while I want all of you to fulfill your dreams, when I held mine, it was only bitter disappointment and despair, so it's like they only lied to me and only set me up to suffer.
I was bullied. Terribly. They would beat me until my nose bled and rip me off all the money I had. And this continued onward, even to high school. They would call me many names I do not wish to repeat, and so many times I wished for revenge. I wanted the slimy punks to know what was good for them, and so many times, I wished I carried that gun and ended their lives quicker than light, quicker than the moment they realized they were alive as infants, and they would be trapped and crushed under the jaws of death.
He smiled at his writing, proud, as if he received a great prize. He continued to tap at the keys, while he kept the mutated creature in a separate cage, as he formulated another plan to create another monster he could scare those dimwit animals out of their minds.
And he didn't even know these animals, but yet he hated them, simply for being alive. He's a miserable man, you might think, the only things keeping him alive are his scientific creations and for everyone to pity him with his writings. He realized his heart was cold, and he didn't mind it all. Better than all the people who bullied him, said he would never achieve anything in his life, and getting rejected from Princeton for little reasons, maybe because he was "too eccentric". He wasn't eccentric. Or crazy, or insane or mad or a lunatic or the same man who probably killed your wife and bragged about it on national television in the court rooms smiling about all the details and things he used to torture her. No, he was a genius that no one understood and no one seemed to want to understand. And today, he would make everyone understand him, know that he was as influential as Einstein and Hawking and that he would make everyone gaze at him with awe, maybe even in fear for his great intelligence, and as he tapped on the keys, rat-a-tat-rat-tat-tat, he grinned and cackled in glee and even started to hum Beethoven's symphonies as he worked on his great work. He worked as much enthusiasm on his projects like when God created life the universe and everything. He told his people that there will be light, and it will be good.
He had no friends, and he didn't care. He wished for none. He only had one friend in this world, and he was dead. The symphonies played louder in his head, he tapped some more, as if he was conducting some beautiful music on the page, and the thunderbirds cut the air again with their wailings and the lightning cackled, but it was all part of his play, his orchestra that he was playing to people all over the world.
He captured a swamp dragon earlier in the afternoon, or as he called it, an "alligator", and he had so many ideas for it, oh so many plans! He was going to make it his greatest weapon, his great atom bomb to drop on these masses. His plan was going to become all clear, and these critters might as well pray to him when he came. He will conduct all their cries and screams, and make such a wonderful performance that his people will want him to play again and again, even give him a few roses and bouquets.
And eventually, his fervor and zest disappeared, and he was tired as he worked on his beautiful plans. He hated the idea of sleep, but if he wanted to be ready for his play, he had to rest. And he left all his playthings alone as he slept on his bed of golden silky sheets and post made of the very ivories of elephants. And you might as well say he dreamed of sugarplums, as if tomorrow was going to be Christmas morning for him.
And the thunderbirds rested, and the chimera could only look at the blood of his brother that stained the floor, and tears were shed as memories of home all came back to him, and he wanted to go home, but he was stuck in this war, and the only thing he knew what to do was to obey, like a simple wind-up toy.
The sun casted on him, tickling his eyes, and he awoke quite happily and fed the thunderbirds yet another mouse from the chimera's family, more of his flesh and blood being torn, and he ate breakfast and read the newspaper and laughed at how stupid people were and how idiotic his government was. If only they were like him. If only, he sighed.
The swamp dragon was now half-machine, half-beast, a great behemoth with cyber and metallic jaws and eyes that could see through a 60' mile radius and a tail that could go through steel. Surely this world would be cleared quickly. Thunderbirds, a robotic alligator, and a flying rodent that only knew of his master's greatness? But he knew it was always good to have reinforcements. He would need more creatures, more weapons, and he would win this war.
But he thought on how strange his dream was last night. He usually had simple dreams when he slept, but this one seemed to be so different, so surreal. It was as if his mind was trying to tell him something about this forest, about something that should be yet another mission for him to finish as well. And he thought on it, trying to decipher it like his DNA codes he always researched.
There was one dragonfly, sleek and red with black marbled spots, like fire. It had green glass eyes and wings of clear crystal, as it flew in this darkness and nestled on a plant he studied with interest.
It was a glistening ruby like the dragonfly, and it seemed to beat in a rhythm, pumping blood through the flower's veins, through the forest all around it. The blood was so rich that the forest became a little red, as all this life circulated and the dragonfly continued to stand, motionless, as it wanted to feel the forest's heart and to be at the center of this kiss of life it gave.
It was then that he saw this dragonfly change, with its legs growing and changing to become more humanlike, the eyes were dotted with pupils, great long flowing hair grew at its scalp and the body became flesh and had breasts. She was naked, but she danced along with the beat of the forest, happy to be alive and to see the forest with such mirth, as her hands reached out to the sky and she kissed the golden sun with her lips so full of color and love.
She told him to come dance with her, as this was a moment to appreciate. The forest to be as lively as her and the creatures to come see her movements in the sun's light, her hair flickering with many grasses and flowers and her smile giving warmth to everything.
And he said no.
And that was that. It all faded away into darkness. No dancing woman, no sun, no heart, no dragonfly, no forest. Nothing. He was blessed with pure darkness and death, and he did not scream, no. He only gave a wicked grin.
This heart, he thought. Was it at the center of the forest, and what did it meant if he plucked it? Would the forest die? Would he gain so much power over all this life? If his dreams tried to let him know about this particular point of interest, then maybe it was destiny for him to find it. Maybe it would be a part for his plan to be shaped together. Maybe he would try to get his war pigs to root out this particular heart, and to bring it back to him. It might be something he needed, and he couldn't let all those pests to get it before him. No, he would only let them suffer the wrath of his very myths and legends he created.
And he let them go, and he headed out to the woods, in search of this gem and for more sacrifices. His face turned a glaring white when the thunderbirds flapped above him, and it began to rain, drenching the forest, among their screams.