Platinum Death
I fought long and hard for them. How could they lie to me? I did everything I could for them. Yet they hid who, and what, I was. They never told me I wasn't born, but created. My mother and I were an experiment, and nothing more.
She had been dug up on accident; she wasn't being sought after, yet when they found her body, they sought to create me. I was in the womb when they injected me with her cells. When they made me my mother's son. Why was it allowed to happen? Why didn't the woman who carried me stop them?
I know they think I'm insane. But nothing has ever seemed so clear to me, nothing more than this. Did they think they could control me? They never could. I'm too strong for them. And they are too weak. They don't have a chance. Not even their precious president could look at me without fear. But he was pathetic anyways. He whimpered like a child before the end. He was the first to die for my revenge. I'll never forget the fear, the sense of doom that I saw in his eyes. It still makes me smile.
Maybe I am insane. But if I am, they were the cause. They destroyed my mother. They destroyed me. Why shouldn't they pay? Because of the fact they're human? I've heard that excuse too often. I won't accept it any more. Humans are too weak anyways, why not put them out of their misery?
We were too powerful for them. That's why they tried to imprison us, my mother in a glass tube, me in a lie. But we escaped.
My revenge would have come sooner if he hadn't stopped me. I remember his strike from behind, the feel of his sword cutting into my skin. It should have killed me, but didn't. He could never defeat me. I was always beyond his skill. He could never defeat the man he idolized. But in the end, he threw me down. I didn't know then, what I know now. He was my clone, but he was considered a failure. Wouldn't the man who created me be surprised? His failed creation has become my greatest tool. He's no longer a scrap of tissue, an unwanted soul. He is my puppet. He thinks he's pursuing me, but I'm calling him. I have laid the path he walks; he's mine.
The stage is soon to be set. All I have to do is wait. He'll come, and the world's doom follows closely behind. He believes he's saving everyone. I know he isn't. By trying to fight me, he's dragged himself deeper into this plot. He's gone farther into the trap.
Destroying the world would seem extreme. But is it really? Many admired me, but they didn't know what I was. If they knew, would they have trusted me? Would they have believed I would make everything right again? I was their hero. I was their saint, their savior. And now, I am their destroyer. The thought of hell doesn't scare me. I know that even if I go to hell, I will live to the end of the world. And if the world does not come to an end, I will destroy it with my own hands. And there is nothing they can do to stop me. Not even with him fighting for them. I am the god they will all fear.