(A/N): Well, I've been busy for a long time, trying to figure out what to write for this, how to conclude the Empty Coffin saga, when to become not-lazy enough to write the next Trolling the Other World chapter...
Well, yeah, for some of you the Empty Coffin resume is a bit surprising and unheard of since I've ditched it for months, but ANYWAY! I've just been very lazy for a very long time. So.
Also, cover art for this series will soon be up. I need to figure out which of these cords is the one that connects my digital camera to this computer...
While the mind's eye is distracted, looking back at the past of the body I inhabit (it remembers quite fondly something I helped with - the raw fury, the frustration, was inside both of us. We were in synthesis in that moment, and at no other time), I begin to gnaw on the bonds, on the edge of the imprint, wanting to kill it.
That which binds us together shall be our undoing.
That which keeps the imprint in power shall be our death.
Inside the mind, I let loose a growl and laugh, laugh for eternity as I chew on the world.
The body wakes.
Others are concerned.
The captor comes and asks and is feared and left alone.
Then it comes back.
I retreat into the depths of the nothingness.
I sense blood and chaos.
There is a loud noise; another and another.
Pained screams.
I see someone I do not recognize standing over one of the captors.
The child runs.
I am forced to follow.
There is no blood this way.
I want it.
They eat the red, the red and yellow.
I don't know what it is.
I know it is not flesh. It is not blood.
It is not alive, screaming for mercy.
It bleeds fake blood, blood halfway between blood and tar.
The body's senses feed me, so I know it is definitely not blood.
I want real blood. I want the bittersweet, sticky, slimy, blue-black tar.
I need it.
It bleeds for me.
I feel a mad elation as I receive an idea.
One idea.
One for the blood.
One for the death.
Go and fight, children.
I will prey on the fallen.
They agree.
The battle is mine.
The war is mine.
They are tangled up in something I started.
They are my slaves, my soldiers.
They will die.
I will win.
Go to your deaths, warriors!
You are mine to dispose of!
I will kill you all once he is dead!
Traitors!
Lies!
Thiefs!
Scams!
For a moment, the future exists before me, in all its glorious shades of red and black.
And then it is gone.
A cat!
No no no no no no no!
They cannot know! My soldiers must be brainwashed!
I force the body to reject the knowledge it will receive. I bite the bonds, I burn them, I unleash all my fury on them.
Everyone in the room must die right now.
But luck is not on my side.
(A/N): Well. That's this done.
Now I have a few things to write, a few things to type... *sigh*