2023: He stood unnoticed, untouched, and unharmed as the battle before him
raged on. The black cloak and hood hid, protected, and camouflaged his
powerfully built robotic frame beneath it. His red optics glowed faintly
as they trained upon one individual in particular. His internal clock
ticked ever downward, to the zero-time in which this being was scheduled
to be taken by him. The fateful blow struck, he slowly approached. She
spotted him, blue optics glazing over, showing fear as she tried
desperately to move.
"Who are you?" she insisted in a scared tone.
"I am Deathstalker. I have come to end your pain." he replied in a
even, gravelly tone.
He stooped over her, reached his hand into her body with no resistance,
and drew out a glowing white orb. Her body relaxed as her life force was
taken from it. He carefully stashed it in a cylindrical container and with
a thought, traveled light years to his abode. He checked his internal
clock, there was thirty Breems to next client. Relieved, he removed his
hood and cloak and threw them on the nearby hall tree. He picked up the
canister, opened it and the contents empty into a weighing machine. The
three orbs were weighed for good and evil, they were all good. He put them
all into another container and let it go. It drifted upward, never to be
seen by him again. He felt good inside, perhaps the universe was finally
getting the message about steering away from evils' influence. He laid
down, at last being able to stretch out and relax. He sighed.
"By the Gods it gets lonely here." he muttered.
Deathstalker was the third robotic being to fill the occupation known as
soul collector and distributor, a.k.a. Death. Since that long ago time,
he's had little rest, not to mention no permanent company. His only
visitors were his fellow Incarnations, but even these were always related
to business. It'd be easy to retire, to let some unfortunate robot take
his job so he could be mortal and live out the rest of his days. He could
get sloppy, a stray shot could whiz past an open spot in his cloak or
hood, and he'd die, the slayer becoming the next Death. He sighed again.
"If only I could find a female companion." he said in a tired tone.
He had yet to find her, that special lady, his soul mate. He stood and
approached a full length mirror. Her stared at himself, really looking
himself over. Nothing had changed, he still looked 3000 years old.
"I'm not that bad looking, am I?" he asked the mirror image, "What is
it that scares my clients so?"
The mirror image cocked its head thoughtfully and answered, "Its the
office of Death that horrifies them, not you. Howsoever they conceive
Death to look like is what they see when you come to collect them." the
image crossed its arms, looking back at him, "As for a female companion,
your good-looking, mature, and wizened. If the time comes, and fate wills
it, a mortal shall fall in love with you."
Deathstalker had forgotten the mirrors' magic properties and stood there
looking at the mirror images' frame. Midnight blue torso, helmet and lower
legs; well muscled, light grey arms and upper legs; the golden spikes
glinting from their chosen spots, the helmet sporting medium-length,
silvery horns. The dark grey, bandit-like mask covering half the face, and
the red optics that seem to mock him. Deathstalker was taken out from his
reverie as his internal clock warned him that one Breem remained to reach
his next client.
"It never ends." he said to the image.
"Such is your lot." it replied.
Deathstalker donned his cloak and hood, in moments his thought brought him
to his next client. Nothing unusual except that the killer was nearby when
he approached the body. He went about his business, but let the killer
perceive him. He stood, life force of his client in hand, then rolled up
and put in a container. He looked at the killer, a female and a bounty
hunter by the look of her. He nodded and went his way. He ran into her
again, this time in a hospital room. He had a problem though, the young
female he was to take was hooked up to a life support machine. Since
protocol forbade for him to unhook it, he had to tell the bounty hunter
what needed to be done. She did as he instructed and pulled the plug on
the machine. He looked at her, more intensely than he'd ever looked at
anyone before. There was something about her, he couldn't put his finger
on it, and he couldn't waste time bothering right now, he had another
client. Afterward, he called on Fate. He is greeted by the middle-aged
facet of the occupation.
"You have you fickle finger in my affairs, Fate." he said firmly.
"Oh really?" she asked rhetorically, shifting to her young facet,
"You forget how often my office is filled, Death. When your strand was
placed in the web, this office was in its third, fifth, and seventh job
holders." she shifted to her old facet, "But your suspicion is valid, I
could check the females strand."
"Do that." he said.
She shifted to her middle facet and walked into the other room. A few
moments later she returned.
"Well?" he asked impatiently.
"The females strand corresponds with many other strands, all but a
few end just after meeting hers." she said smiling knowingly.
"Go on." he said.
"One runs besides her very early on and is brief, the other starts
soon and twists about hers, coming and going for numerous times." she said
smiling even more broadly. "There is a strand starting from the hers."
Fate states.
"A child?" Deathstalker asked.
"Yes." Fate says, "Now go, Death. You have clients to attend to and I
have more strands to weave into the web."
Deathstalker left Fates' abode in bewilderment. He had to approach the
female bounty hunter. Somehow the possibility of finally not being lonely
anymore picked up his spirits. His heart felt something else besides the
usual emptiness. In her abode, all three fates smiled to themselves,
knowing all to well what the truth was.
raged on. The black cloak and hood hid, protected, and camouflaged his
powerfully built robotic frame beneath it. His red optics glowed faintly
as they trained upon one individual in particular. His internal clock
ticked ever downward, to the zero-time in which this being was scheduled
to be taken by him. The fateful blow struck, he slowly approached. She
spotted him, blue optics glazing over, showing fear as she tried
desperately to move.
"Who are you?" she insisted in a scared tone.
"I am Deathstalker. I have come to end your pain." he replied in a
even, gravelly tone.
He stooped over her, reached his hand into her body with no resistance,
and drew out a glowing white orb. Her body relaxed as her life force was
taken from it. He carefully stashed it in a cylindrical container and with
a thought, traveled light years to his abode. He checked his internal
clock, there was thirty Breems to next client. Relieved, he removed his
hood and cloak and threw them on the nearby hall tree. He picked up the
canister, opened it and the contents empty into a weighing machine. The
three orbs were weighed for good and evil, they were all good. He put them
all into another container and let it go. It drifted upward, never to be
seen by him again. He felt good inside, perhaps the universe was finally
getting the message about steering away from evils' influence. He laid
down, at last being able to stretch out and relax. He sighed.
"By the Gods it gets lonely here." he muttered.
Deathstalker was the third robotic being to fill the occupation known as
soul collector and distributor, a.k.a. Death. Since that long ago time,
he's had little rest, not to mention no permanent company. His only
visitors were his fellow Incarnations, but even these were always related
to business. It'd be easy to retire, to let some unfortunate robot take
his job so he could be mortal and live out the rest of his days. He could
get sloppy, a stray shot could whiz past an open spot in his cloak or
hood, and he'd die, the slayer becoming the next Death. He sighed again.
"If only I could find a female companion." he said in a tired tone.
He had yet to find her, that special lady, his soul mate. He stood and
approached a full length mirror. Her stared at himself, really looking
himself over. Nothing had changed, he still looked 3000 years old.
"I'm not that bad looking, am I?" he asked the mirror image, "What is
it that scares my clients so?"
The mirror image cocked its head thoughtfully and answered, "Its the
office of Death that horrifies them, not you. Howsoever they conceive
Death to look like is what they see when you come to collect them." the
image crossed its arms, looking back at him, "As for a female companion,
your good-looking, mature, and wizened. If the time comes, and fate wills
it, a mortal shall fall in love with you."
Deathstalker had forgotten the mirrors' magic properties and stood there
looking at the mirror images' frame. Midnight blue torso, helmet and lower
legs; well muscled, light grey arms and upper legs; the golden spikes
glinting from their chosen spots, the helmet sporting medium-length,
silvery horns. The dark grey, bandit-like mask covering half the face, and
the red optics that seem to mock him. Deathstalker was taken out from his
reverie as his internal clock warned him that one Breem remained to reach
his next client.
"It never ends." he said to the image.
"Such is your lot." it replied.
Deathstalker donned his cloak and hood, in moments his thought brought him
to his next client. Nothing unusual except that the killer was nearby when
he approached the body. He went about his business, but let the killer
perceive him. He stood, life force of his client in hand, then rolled up
and put in a container. He looked at the killer, a female and a bounty
hunter by the look of her. He nodded and went his way. He ran into her
again, this time in a hospital room. He had a problem though, the young
female he was to take was hooked up to a life support machine. Since
protocol forbade for him to unhook it, he had to tell the bounty hunter
what needed to be done. She did as he instructed and pulled the plug on
the machine. He looked at her, more intensely than he'd ever looked at
anyone before. There was something about her, he couldn't put his finger
on it, and he couldn't waste time bothering right now, he had another
client. Afterward, he called on Fate. He is greeted by the middle-aged
facet of the occupation.
"You have you fickle finger in my affairs, Fate." he said firmly.
"Oh really?" she asked rhetorically, shifting to her young facet,
"You forget how often my office is filled, Death. When your strand was
placed in the web, this office was in its third, fifth, and seventh job
holders." she shifted to her old facet, "But your suspicion is valid, I
could check the females strand."
"Do that." he said.
She shifted to her middle facet and walked into the other room. A few
moments later she returned.
"Well?" he asked impatiently.
"The females strand corresponds with many other strands, all but a
few end just after meeting hers." she said smiling knowingly.
"Go on." he said.
"One runs besides her very early on and is brief, the other starts
soon and twists about hers, coming and going for numerous times." she said
smiling even more broadly. "There is a strand starting from the hers."
Fate states.
"A child?" Deathstalker asked.
"Yes." Fate says, "Now go, Death. You have clients to attend to and I
have more strands to weave into the web."
Deathstalker left Fates' abode in bewilderment. He had to approach the
female bounty hunter. Somehow the possibility of finally not being lonely
anymore picked up his spirits. His heart felt something else besides the
usual emptiness. In her abode, all three fates smiled to themselves,
knowing all to well what the truth was.