Self

I walked the streets I called by home
But all I did was truly roam
Without a cause or a hope
I pleaded until I could not cope

Finding nothing as I grieve
This world is just as lost as me
Lying about who I really am
This mask could not disguise the sham

Buried in a grave I cast aside
This is where I gathered pride
Aiming for my very heart
The realisation became so stark

I took the path of least resistance
That led to my failed existence
Locked within these mental walls
I set myself up for the falls

New Human

Story time is here again. This week I’ve got a short story (roughly 13800 words) that is set after the apocalypse and involves a group of augmented humans who are revered as Gods by what is left of humanity. Enjoy!

The four Olympians, technologically enhanced and augmented humans, stand within one of the vast spaces carved into the peak of Mount Olympus. Athena as always is calm as she stands with her arms folded across her chest, while her long straight blonde hair falls around her shoulders, her blue eyes fixed on Hades. The man stands there without saying a word. He cares little of what this meeting may be about, though he has noticed that Nemesis is not present, which is odd. He sneers at Ares, who is a towering hulk of a man. Standing at seven feet four inches Ares is the largest of the Olympians not just in height but also in width, weight and muscle mass. He personifies perfectly a man named after the God Of War, though he is remarkably calm, Hades notes as he casts his gaze to the last of their assembled number, Hecate. She presides over their technological and historical archives. Her black as night wavy hair falling just past her shoulders as she stares straight at Hades with her emerald green eyes. But Hades takes no notice of her, or Ares staring brown eyes.

“Why Hades?” Athena asks after a few more moments of silence are left to linger in the air awkwardly.

“Why what?” Hades fires back his yellow eyes locked with hers now that she seems to be challenging him.

He isn’t afraid of Athena or Ares or Hecate or even Nemesis. He knows they’re short sighted and lack the vision to see the threat that will return. Not an if, will.

“You know full well what?” Hecate spits disgusted.

“How can I know if there is no context?” Hades replies with a grin of superiority. He can guess what they’re getting at but he isn’t going to make it easy on them. They will have to say it because he knows it gives them discomfort to.

“The experimentation brother.” Ares replies candidly.

Hades hates when Ares calls him brother. They may have been created in the same place, born again as Olympians to fight against the AI Apocalypse that had tried to wipe humanity out, having deemed humanity the single greatest risk to the existence of Earth. But that didn’t make them brothers and sisters. Not one little bit.

“It was…necessary.” Hades says choosing his words carefully as he shifts his gaze between the three enhanced humans who are stood in a semi circle around him. The balcony that overlooks the irradiated wasteland laced with nuclear firestorms behind him.

Humanity had almost lost against Apocalypse and even though the Olympians defeated the AI they could not claim it as a victory. The sentient system had managed to exterminate more than ninety percent of the Earth’s population and scorched the surface to ash, killing anything that dared to remain above ground. It’s why humanity fled into Mount Olympus and constructed the last remaining human city here, shielded from the radiation and firestorms that would otherwise kill the species in minutes.

“How can you say that?” Hecate questions in disbelief after Hades cold response. She wonders if there is any humanity left in the man before her.

“You experimented on citizens, against their wills, Hades.” Athena accuses while still staying calm.

Hades can’t stand the woman’s diplomatic façade, as that is all it is. He saw her in battle and there had been no diplomacy then. She had been little more than a blood crazed psychopath when they’ve been at war. They all had. It’s just victory and the years of being regarded as Gods by the citizens of Olympus has made them pretend to be things they are not. He can remember them as they truly are, weapons, made for a single purpose and their attempts at being something they are not sickens him.

“And that’s without including your murder of Eris.” Hecate adds to the charges against him. Her tone filled with disdain for his actions as her emerald eyes try to bore holes through him.

Hades understands now why they are here. He is to be judged, by them, for what they perceive as crimes. He could care less of their opinions and judgements. They are weak. They have forgotten their purpose, the threat, which will return in the future.

“Why brother?” Ares asks with a solemn shake of his head, his red locks shaking madly.

“Because we…are stagnant. Our technology hasn’t evolved. We haven’t evolved!” Hades begins no longer willing to stay silent and listen to the prattling of his ilk. No, he will have his say and they will listen.

“Hecate you preside over our technology. You know it to be true. There are secrets lost to us, which we must regain. We must advance past the limits of what came before the war.” Hades continues his words dripping from his mouth with contempt.

“We were made to evolve. To advance. Not sit at the peak of some mountain waiting to die. We were warriors. And those…citizens down there will be little more than fodder when our enemy returns. And he will return! And when he does we must be ready! Humanity must be ready! Our number is too few to defeat him again! We must expand.” Hades roars lost in his rage as his eyes accuse each of his three fellow Olympians.

“Apocalypse is dead brother. Father ended him.” Ares states with a slow blink of his eyes, his head cocked slightly to the right as his hulking cybernetically enhanced shoulders drop low.

“Don’t call me brother! We are not brothers! Are we not family! We were created as part of the same program, but we are nothing more to each other than that. Zeus is not our father and we only have the old man’s word that Apocalypse is truly dead. We don’t know for sure.” Hades erupts unable to listen to Ares continued insistence that they are all somehow a part of one family.

“Zeus gave his body to defeat Apocalypse. You know this, you were there.” Athena offers still calm and diplomatic in her tone as she delivers her counter to his words. She can barely believe what Hades is saying. Of all the people she never expected Hades would question what he saw that day with his own two eyes.

“And that’s the problem…defeat. Defeat isn’t death. And we only saw the aftermath of their battle. The broken body of Zeus that clung so desperately to life as he lay amongst the shattered remnants of what we believed to be that AI.”

“So what was your plan?” Athena then asks as she shifts the conversation forward, unwilling to listen to Hades mad theories about the return of the AI Apocalypse and how Zeus failed.

She knows Hades is searching for purpose, for more than to be the one who presides over the recollection and integration of the dead’s DNA and memories once they have passed on. He longs to be a warrior again, to fight, and to have the purpose that he believes was their only purpose. But he’s wrong. They, the Olympians, were made for more than war. They were made to lead humanity and stand as a beacon of hope, the only light amongst the shattered world. It is why Olympus has endured, even expanded within the confines of this mountain, safe from the death that the world outside is consumed by.

“The enhancement of the entire human race.” Hades states proudly, his head high.

“You want to make all humans Olympians?” Hecate replies shocked.

“Yes…and no. All humans will need to be enhanced in preparation of the war that will come. But they will be lesser. He must hold our seats. He must lead, while they follow.” Hades explains arrogantly.

“And what if they don’t wish to brother?” Ares asks concerned as to what Hades reply might be even before he says the words. Though, Ares feels he must know.

Ares had never thought Hades mad, but he certainly sounds that way now. Should he have noticed? Should any of them? Had any of them? He doesn’t know. What he does know is that Hades is obsessed.

“This isn’t about wishing. They have to. For humanities survival.” Hades replies confirming Ares’ fears.

His brother, Ares concludes, really is mad. He wants only the advancement of technology for his own gains. He wants an army of slaves ready to do his bidding no matter the cost. It isn’t right and he can’t allow it. He had made the choice to be part of the Olympian Project, they all had. But that choice wasn’t for everyone and Ares knows and understands that.

“You’re mad!” Hecate exclaims in shock at Hades words.

She had thought that maybe he’d just got carried away, somehow. That his anger had got the better of him, but it’s clear now it hadn’t.

“And what about Eris?” Athena asks, her expression giving nothing of her thoughts or feelings away.

“She…didn’t agree.” Hades says simply before adding a smirk.

“We don’t kill our own!” Hecate rages with a snarl that twists her face into a visage of anger.

“Brother!” Ares exclaims with a sigh as he rubs his eyes with the middle finger and thumb of his right hand.

“You’ve gone too far Hades.” Athena proclaims her voice strong and stern, while her expression remains calm and serene.

“Too far. Too far!” Hades bellows as he laughs at the stupidity of Athena’s words.

He realises now that the other Olympians cause to feel nothing but contempt. It is clear they lack vision. That they lack commitment.

“Then do something Athena. Ares. Hecate. Or are we simply here to talk? I’m sure that is not what Nemesis would do. Speaking of the little one, where is she?” Hades spits from his grimaced face, tanned an olive colour.

Hades gets no reply and simply laughs because of the silence that he gets in response.

“Cat got your tongues? Is the little one mad?” Hades mocks with a wide grin on his pale lips.

“There has been enough bloodshed. Nemesis is being memory wiped.” Athena states still standing with her arms crossed across her chest.

“And was that her choice?” Hades asks already knowing the answer.

“I thought not.” Hades adds after a period of silence.

“We do what is best for the many, not the few, Hades.” Hecate offers.

“So do I.” Hades fires back locking eyes with Hecate who simply glares back at him with angry eyes.

“In light of your crimes and the lack of remorse you show for them Hades. I nearby call for a vote.” Athena announces.

“A vote for what? What is to be my punishment?” Hades responds with a cackle as he mocks his fellow Olympians.

“Exile.” Athena replies succinctly as she blinks slowly while looking at Hades.

“What? Exile! You would dare exile me!” Hades thunders outraged at their audacity.

“All in favour of exile.” Athena calls.

“I.” Hecate answers.

“I sister.”

“The vote is done.” Athena concludes.

“Done. Done! How is it done? Three votes against me. But the votes of Zeus and Nemesis have not been cast.” Hades rails against this outrage.

He had always known that these three that he had once fought side by side with had always felt threatened by him. But to attempt something so brazen, so insulting, he had never considered the possibility of. He sneers and snarls at them ready for battle.

“Come brother, you must see Nemesis would not save you.” Ares remarks.

“No, but she would not see me banished. As weak as the little ones augments are, she is named after the Goddess of revenge, and there is reason for that.” Hades fires back.

“That may be, but Zeus votes in favour of your exile. That puts it at four votes, which is a majority Hades.” Athena says with disappointment in her voice as she speaks his name.

Hades knows that such emotion is rare, but knows better than to think it’s a slip or a mistake. No, Athena wants Hades to know she is disappointed. Ares and Hecate have already made it abundantly clear that they are. So Athena has decided it’s time for her too to make it obvious, even if it is in a quintessentially Athena manner.

“So that’s it. You pass judgement. Claim Zeus speaks in your favour and I’m exiled!” Hades boils with anger.

“And how will you remove me?” Hades questions before anyone can say anything.

“By force?” Hades adds sure he can take Athena and Hecate with little trouble. Ares on the other hand he isn’t sure. The man is a giant roughly nine inches taller and much stronger.

“Don’t brother.” Ares retorts with a slow slight shake of his head. He knows what Hades is thinking and how it will end.

Hades simply growls as he casts his gaze from one to another in the moments before he intends to attack. But before he can even move he is paralysed with a cone of light.

“Damn you ZEUS!” Hades roars as he looks to the high ceiling above him from where the cone of light is being emitted.

The visage of Zeus, as he had been when he had a body, appears white and ghostly directly in front of Hades. The holographic representation of Zeus’ long flowing white beard, orange eyes and shaved head stare back at him with an expression of seriousness.

“That is enough Hades.” Zeus’ electronic voice demands.

“You have brought this upon yourself.” The voice continues as the orange eyes stare deep into Hades, who sneers in response.

“Cowards! All of you!” Hades bellows as Zeus waves his hand and Hades is thrown backward through the open balcony doors and clear of the mountain. It marks the completion of his sentencing and the beginning of his exile. Though, it doesn’t stop him from screaming vengeance as he falls through the irradiated air toward the barren ground below.

Zeus lets out a long loud sigh as he hangs his head low.

“It had to be done Zeus.” Athena says as she stands at his side now.

“What about Nemesis?” Hecate asks concerned for the youngest of their ilk.

Zeus turns and waves his hand across his vision cone. The gesture pulls up the feed from the memory wiping chamber where Nemesis is strapped to an angled and reclined chair that holds her in mid-air. Her brow is deeply furrowed and her eyes are squeezed tight as her dark purple hair, which is some lights appears almost black in colour, tosses back and forth as she thrashes about screaming in pain.

“What is wrong with her father?” Ares asks deeply concerned for her.

“Unlike the rest of you Nemesis’ body still feels pain.” The holographic representation of Zeus replies.

“What?”  Ares exclaims surprised. He didn’t know that before today.

“It’s because she isn’t cybernetically enhanced Ares.” Hecate offers.

“That’s right Hecate. Instead Nemesis is the only Olympian that was augmented with purely nanotechnology. She has no cybernetics. Like she has no metal grafted over her bones.” Zeus explains as Nemesis continues to thrash about.

“But why is it causing her so much pain?” Athena asks her voice filled with concern.

“In order for the memory wipe to work on Nemesis I had to disable the nanomachines in her body. If I didn’t they would repair the damage as fast as it is being done and the memory wipe would not take.”

“Will it work?” Hecate asks as Nemesis’ scream rips through her making her wince at the agony that it is clearly causing her.

“It should.” Zeus answers honestly. He can’t say it will as he can’t be entirely sure.

“Will there be any damage?” Athena queries.

“No. Once the procedure is done her nanotech will become active again and will repair and suppress any discomfort.” Zeus concludes as Nemesis howls in pain, baring her teeth as she does so.

Zeus thinks about how unique Nemesis is and how many of the true capabilities of the nanotech in her body have been lost. A great wave of guilt comes crashing against his still biological brain, which is integrated into every system that runs and oversees the continued existence of Olympus. To the citizens Zeus, the Olympian, leader of the army that defeated Apocalypse, God amongst men, is now better known as an acronym. ZEUS as he is now known to all but the few Olympians that remain is short for Zone Enforcement Utility Systems. It’s an awkward acronym he knows, but it’s better than being dead.

Night

Is the darkness what you really fear?
As the sun drops below to disappear
The night sky blooms like death
Pinpricks burst from nothingness
Scattered across the inky black
Are you scared the sun won’t be coming back?
As the moon sails across the void
Shadows are all you should avoid
Beauty in the dark of night
Shouldn’t let it give you fright
Cast wide you arms and let it in
Cause the sun will rise again
But until then you should adore
Listen for a song to hear
Nature at its very best
It has all been but a test

Ashen Trees

Trapped on a feeling that leaves you reeling
Where are the crows that define your meaning?

As thorns of red dive deeper into the ocean
Seas begin to start to boil with feeling

Last among the endless ashen trees
Shattered realities breed only disease

The sutble stab of who you should be
Will you ever get to grip that really?

Petals of dust come tumbling down
Soon you will be buried under ground

Stones of purpose are cast to the sky
Victims scream about how they wonder why

Angels wings of shattered glass
Is this all that you shall ask?

Spinning on this endless broken wheel
The mountainside will make no deal

Alone among the fractured bones
That grow among the headstones

From Present To Past

Humanity will fade away
Swallowed by its entropy
Because we couldn’t stay together
Instead we fractured unlike weather
Torn apart instead of stayed strong
Oh what a tragic wrong
So soon we will just rot away
Lost to times natural decay
So much promise that we did sully
If only we would have tried more fully
But that was never on the cards
Is what would be sung by bards
Except there is no one left to sing
The world is now a much emptier thing
But do not fret about the past
The one that is gone at last
Cause these are simply what does remain
The Earth has continued on its reign
Without a blight upon its crust
Nature will never go bust

Hunter

Wednesday! This story is a little different from the last. It’s still Sci-Fi but it has more action. I like how it turned out and it is darker, but still don’t think it hit what I was originally going for. I had hoped to make the main character darker, but I don’t think I quite managed it. By the way this story is about 12500 words. See what you think and see if you agree.

Marek is stood in the reception room on the top floor of a building that is owned by the man who wishes to offer him a job. He doesn’t know what the job is, but he’ll find that out soon. What’s more pressing to him is how long he is going to be kept waiting. Marek is a busy man and time is money. The assistant behind the desk has said that their boss shouldn’t be too much longer and has offered that Marek takes a seat, but he doesn’t want to. This is business and he doesn’t lounge about when business is to be conducted. However, that hasn’t made the assistant any less insistent, or nervous for that matter. Marek understands the young man’s nervousness though as he knows what he looks like as he smiles devilishly from below his full face helmet. Suddenly the door between the reception area and the space beyond slides open to allow a group of gang members exit. One of them is dead and being carried by the other three. Each of the three look terrified as they keep their eyes low and shuffle to the lift with the dead body that Marek is sure had been in life the gangs boss. He has no feelings either way having seen the sight, but guesses that the delay is due to whatever business they had, which has clearly now been completed.

Before the assistant can say anything Marek strides through the open automatic sliding metal doors and into the space beyond. He doesn’t pay any mind as the assistant shouts after him asking him to come back in a tone of voice that clearly marks just how terrified he is of his boss. But Marek isn’t scared. He knows who he’s here to meet on the top floor of the highest tower of Station Beta-3.

“Hunter. You’re here.” Boron Lockwall calls from behind his huge dark wooden desk.

Boron is the boss of this station. He isn’t technically a gang member, but instead more a crime lord. What he says goes and he rules over this slum of an overpopulated and desperate space station with an iron fist. All the gangs serve under him and if any step out of line, well they end up like the guy Marek saw in the reception, dead.

Boron is a beast of a man, fat with a shaved head, tattooed face, almost grey eyes and a crooked nose. His voice is raspy like he’s been shouting, but Marek knows that the man’s voice isn’t worn or failing. That is just how he always sounds.

Marek says nothing in response as he stops a couple metres from Boron’s fifteen foot wide and six feet deep desk. It’s made out of thick pieces of wood that have been stained a dark colour, with green felt nailed onto a section of the top where Boron’s arms are resting as he grins.

The doors slide shut with little more than a hiss. Marek knows there are two big hired goons, one on either side of the room. Both are armed as they stand there in white suits that in no way help them to blend with the grey walls or the gaudy furnishings. Marek knows that’s the point but he couldn’t care less about their presence. He knows they pose little threat to him.

“Take off your helmet.” One of the big guys says, his voice echoing from behind Marek.

Marek has no intention of removing his helmet which is grey and black in colour with some silver trim. The twin front forks of the helmet jutting below his chin similar to the front of a Spartan or Corinthian helmet from ancient Greece, except shorter. It makes Marek look as though he has fangs as he stands there without moving a muscle.

“No. No. Its fine boys. This one can keep his helmet on.” Boron offers in a calm voice.

The crime lord knows better than to try and make this bounty hunter remove his helmet. He’s heard the stories of those who’ve tried and how they ended up, and none were pretty. While he may never have dealt with Marek before personally, he knows his type, and isn’t about to bring such a wrath upon himself over such a trifling matter.

“Shall I begin?” Boron then asks unsure because of the full face helmet.

The crime lord has to admit he doesn’t like doing business with someone when he can’t see their face. It puts him on edge. He doesn’t have a way of knowing if the man before him is for one a man, and two, the man he is supposed to be. In truth anyone could be below that impenetrable façade and he’d never know.

“Time’s money.” Marek replies simply as his faceless helmet stares back at Boron. The crime lord nods as a smile forms across his face, sure that the man before him really is who he claims to be.

Marek comes highly recommended, but recommendation comes with a price, a high price. Boron can afford it, but still he’d prefer to have not had to hire an external hand. Though, he knows none of the goons in the gangs on his station would ever have been competent enough to do what he needs, so needs must.

“I have a job.” Boron begins. Marek says nothing as he stands there face hidden, clad in his black and grey armour, the plates of which overlap one another to protect his torso, upper and lower arms, thighs and shins. The bounty hunters shoulders, elbows and knees covered by singular moulded pieces of tri-titanium alloy entirely black in colour that match his heavy plated boots.

“It won’t be an easy job. It’ll require some smuggling…” Boron starts making sure to keep his words vague.

“Just give me the details.” Marek says cutting Boron off, whose face goes red in response of the interjection. His two bodyguard’s eyes go wide in shock. No one ever dares to cut their boss off, they both think as they stand there.

Boron hates being interrupted as his upper lips begins to curl into a snarl, but Marek couldn’t care less. In fact, he hoped his actions would illicit such a response from the crime boss, who he knows is used to talking in vagaries encase anyone might catch wind of his grand plans and usurp or undercut him.

“That is not how I do business, hunter.” Boron replies as he stares at the armour clad figure before him.

Boron has decided he doesn’t like the bounty hunter and begins to contemplate whether he truly is necessary. He is and Boron knows it as he flicks his fat tongue at the back of one of his teeth which sits to the right side of his lower jaw. It’s how he keeps from erupting into an incandescent rage. But it doesn’t always work. It hadn’t during his last meeting, which is why the Low Rats no longer have a gang leader. It wasn’t a great loss and had been a semi-calculated act of brutality, seeing as the gang had been skimming profits off the top for themselves. But it meant he’d have to watch the gang closer now, not just encase they dared do it again, which he knows they will as gangs of lowlifes always do, but also to see who takes the premiership in the gang. Seeing as depending on who becomes the new leader of the Low Rats will either result in their continued survival or violent dispatch and ultimate replacement.

Boron isn’t short of contenders to join the upper table of gangs, but none of that is why Marek is here. These are internal problems that he can easily solve with his own hands, whereas this particular job he knows he cannot. Its beyond his reach.

“No details, no contract. No contract, no me.” Marek replies as he stands there relaxed. He knows the two thugs behind him have their hands resting on the slug pistols strapped against their ribs ready to pull and fire at any time.

“Hunter, please. You must understand…” Boron begins trying to charm Marek.

“I don’t have to understand. Either you give me the details without the bullshit charm or I walk. You’ve wasted enough of my time.” Marek says interrupting Boron for the second time as he smiles beneath his helmet. He is taking great delight in winding the crime lord up, as he notes how easy it is. It never gets any harder. They are so used to getting their ways that they are completely out of their depth when they speak with someone on a similar level to themselves.

“Is that a threat?” Boron asks as his face darkens in anger which he is barely able to contain.

“It’s a promise. I don’t do threats.” Marek fires back bluntly as his cocks his head to one side.

“Maybe you should.” Boron says with a nod.

Marek already knows what will come next, but it’s a pity that neither of the armed thugs nor Boron do.

Both the thugs pull their slug pistols but as they come to aim them they are hit by shock blades. The small throwing weapons armed with electrical charge, stab into the two thugs and immediately discharge bursts of electricity that overwhelm their nervous systems. Both crumple to the floor with identical booms, almost in stereo, as Marek turns back to look at Boron who is holding a slug pistol of his own, which is pointed at Marek. Marek had seen the weapon on the desks top but if the intent was to scare him then it’s failed. He simply stares from behind his visor, brown eyes hidden.

“Ready to talk now?” Boron offers sure he has the upper hand.

“Is that a threat?” Marek asks calmly.

“Of course it’s a threat! Who do you think you’re talking to you little shit?!” Boron thunders as he yells loudly, his face red as blood vessels pulse angrily and visibly. It’s an impressive feat Marek knows for a man of Boron’s size.

“You don’t want to threaten me.” Marek replies with a shake of his helmet.

“Why not? I have the gun, hunter. And I’m the king here.” Boron barks with a wide smile. He knows he’s won. Marek can’t best him. He knows the bounty hunter doesn’t use guns, at least not anymore. He’s done his homework and picked the perfect candidate.

“Really? Are you going to make me do this the hard way?” Marek asks.

“Hard way! You are the one who made this…” Boron begins but never finishes as a sudden blinding light sears his eyes. It’s emitted by a high intensity light on his wrist. Boron roars in pain as he shields his face and screws his eyes shut. Then he realises his mistake and forces them open again.

His eyes are burning in pain with spots of light dotted about his vision, but he’s too late to stop Marek grab his wrist and squeeze. Boron lets out a yelp as the slug pistol drops from his grip, caught by Marek’s free hand as he shoves Boron backward. The fat crime lord tumbles back into his custom chair with a thud as Marek empties the rounds from the cylinder and then detaches the barrel, frame and grip from one another.

“Details.” Marek demands.

He knows this wasn’t a trap. It was a test, which is why he hasn’t caused any lasting damage to Boron. But he has made it very clear who is the dominant force here and it’s not the crime lord. Marek knows Boron wanted it to be and that he had hoped Marek would simply surrender and then bow down to him, but that’s not how this works. Boron’s learnt that now. It’s just whether the fat criminal can stomach it. Some can, others can’t. It’s why Marek has the reputation he does.

“I need a package retrieved from Sunev.”

“What sort of package?” Marek queries.

“One that’s very dear to me, hunter.” Boron fires back as he comforts his wrist.

Marek simply cocks his head as far as Boron can see, but below his helmet he rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Fine. The package is a case about so.” Boron says as he demonstrates with his hands that the size is about a foot wide and three feet tall.

Marek knows he’ll get little more than that.

“Retrieval and transit from Sunev back here, inside of three standard days. Our days, not that reformation timescale crap, I might add. Four million cred chips as payment.” Boron concludes. He isn’t willing to give any further details and if the bounty hunter wants them then the jobs off.

Boron hopes the jobs off, simply so he can kill Marek, slowly. He knows he’ll enjoy that and can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation of the idea as he wonders what he’d do to the hunter first. Skin him? Take his hands? His eyes? Maybe all his limbs? Test how good that armour he wears really is. All sound like delicious ideas he thinks as he stares at the faceless man before him, sickened and angry.

“Done.” Marek says after a pause that makes it look like he’s been mulling the decision over. He hasn’t. He’d planned to take the job from the beginning, but he’d never let Boron know that.

“Good.” Boron says with a hint of surprise in his voice. He curses himself for revealing his disappointment.

“Coordinates and passes will be transmitted. You’ll have them by the time you board your ship, hunter.” Boron offers as Marek turns and begins to walk away. The two thugs only just managing to clamber back to their feet now as they hold their heads feeling dizzy and dazed.

“Payment on receipt of the package.” Boron calls after Marek as he steps through the open lift doors and onto the lift where he turns to face back toward Boron who stares at the helmet as the doors slide shut. Boron sneers now that the hunter is gone from sight and promises that Marek will pay for his arrogance, with his life, as a call comes through.

“Leave.” Boron demands of his two bodyguards who immediately and without question obey his order and depart his office. The lavish furniture and art filling the large open space as Boron answers the call.

“Is it done?” The voice booms from the speakers built into Boron’s desk.

“It is.” Boron confirms.

“The hunter is unaware of the contents?” The voice queries.

“He is.” Boron assures.

“He wasn’t curious then?”

“Not overly.”

“What does that mean?” The voice asks.

“It’ll be handled.” Boron says trying to be charming.

“It better. You know what’ll happen if it isn’t Boron. You might be a king on that heap of junk you call a station, but that’s as far as your reach extends.” The voice threatens without a care before ending the call without another word.

Boron sits at his desk eyeing the feed of cameras for Docking Bay 3, where Marek’s ship is docked.

“Hope you weren’t planning on spending the money, cause it’s never coming.” Boron says with a wry smile as he watches Marek’s ship lift from the deck plating and then drift out into the darkness of space.

Money Hungry

You thirst for money
You’re consumed by greed
Rub your hands together
Ignore mortality
Start the economy to watch it fail
A second wave will then prevail
But you just want to count the cash
Don’t give a damn about the mass
We can all go lie in an enormous grave
What a blinkered view you wish to pave
Even your lies can’t hide the truth
They actually hold the golden proof
You should know better after what you saw
But that would require you to understand more
A care for loss isn’t your concern
You just want to speak at the lecturn
More sounds come out than actual words
We’d be better off listening to birds
They have more thought then you ever will
You’re just a narcissitic little schill

Pact

Cutting so deep you see nothing but void
As the city sleeps you dream of joy
A rapture of memory will open its wings
Now prepare for the change that comes from within

Will you ever focus on what you believe?
A glance to the sky will aid in nothing
So you bark platitudes as all do descend
Preparing for the banquet of martyr and friend

Searching the night for a glimpse of new light
As the facade starts to wither and slide
A rose thorn can make no amends
Bring value to the dance that marks out pretend

Ordering the tides to conform and swell
All while you lie about this being hell
Shifted your hopes that came crashing down
You made your bed as you adorned this crown

Bleeding the skies of eternal black
Don’t you see there is no way back?
Speak out the truths before you made lies
Remember the joys that you sold for a prize

So now as you stare at the worlds end
Think on the pact that changed everything
Eyes once open did become closed
This is why your mind shifted to no’s

More posts this week!

As the title says there will be more posts this week. In fact, there will be a new post Monday through Friday. All days, except Wednesday, will be poems. Tuesday’s and Thursday’s are the rest of those I wrote last week. Hence why I’m posting them!

Iced Over

The frost crawls across your heart
Never will you admit your dark
Cold to your very core
As you murder and abhor

Skin like ice that burns to touch
You became the murderous
Shattering hearts as you pass
Fatal attraction killing fast

Ice blue eyes that pierce through
Whatever happened to the real you
Turned your back and became
An icy figure of hate and pain

Lashing all that have a brain
Are you coming back again?
Or are you lost to the dark?
Another heartless debutante

Jealous of the latest scene
They all cower as you scream
Freezing solid every dream
You sold your soul for nothing

Picture fading memory
You will age just like me
Selling lies to fashion truth
There is only deception left in you

Stoking fires to win wars
Cast aside what you want no more
But it proves you are a fake
Time to live with this heartbreak

As you watch from your tower
Counting by every hour
Remember that you did decide
To let your heart freeze and die