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Ghods Charles al'Demichase XIV · 10-22-2020, 09:35 AM,

stream-source: ▓▝ -̵̵̛̬̭̠͚̦͕̜̮̉̓̀ͨ̊̊ͫ͢͝-̶̡͓̼͈͖̤̪̠̒̍̀̀͛̓͜-̡̭͕̤͙̃-͇̣̥̰̱̼ͫ͛ͮ̊̚͢҉̊--̡̢̹̪͇̦̎̒̒̋̀̄ͯ̎͟͜͝-̙̃-̸̢̜͓̪͚̭̞̳̺ͭ͆̓ͥ͒͗̀͌͑̒-͎͔̬͇̙̹͚̞̅̅̋̃ͤ̕͘̚͝ͅ-̵̨̡̺̝͚͙̏ͬ͂̐ : compiling - tt-rr-321561--▝▁
acvX.-̵̵̛̬̭̠͚̦͕̜̮̉̓̀ͨ̊̊ͫ͢͝-̶̡͓̼͈͖̤̪̠̒̍̀̀͛̓͜-̡̭͕̤͙̃-͇̣̥̰̱̼ͫ͛ͮ̊̚͢҉̊--̡̢̹̪͇̦̎̒̒̋̀̄ͯ̎͟͜͝-̙̃-̸̢̜͓̪͚̭̞̳̺ͭ͆̓ͥ͒͗̀͌͑̒-͎͔̬͇̙̹͚̞̅̅̋̃ͤ̕͘̚͝ͅ-̵̨̡̺̝͚͙̏ͬ͂̐-͖̜̥͈͕̼̓̍ͭͮ́̿͑̔̕ͅ-̵̸̱̬̠̪͑̒͛ͮͨ̀ͭ́̔̌̕͢ͅ-̶̵̨̜͉̹̫͌͗̑̀̄̐-̰ͣͦ̉̑͒ͧ̚̚-͙̗͍̂̋̌͌-̹̅̆̈-̡͖̠̟̞̀̇̊̀̉͏͘-̶̴̱͇̋̈ͪ̌̆ͪͬ͋͜͠͞-̶̷̥͗̋̒̈́͋̔tvdgs░g-g-nn-3.16.a.n+̸̸̴̣̠̠͍̦̫͂̓͗̐ͨͭ͘+̴̧̻̰̦̯́͊͒͗͌̐ͥͩ̐ͭ̔͟͞+̜̻͙̪̞ͥ̓ͯ̇̀͜͡͝͞+̫+͚̟̝͔̠̙̗̤͛̅̉̿͒̓ͬ͊́̚-̵̘̳̻̫̜̆ͥͯ̏͆̍͝͏̓-͕̰ͬ͂͛-̸̧̯̮̣̙͒ͣͧ̀͗҉̷͉̳̀ͣ̂ͪ͠-҉͓-̮̩̰̪͙̹̇ͪ̆̄͂̈ͧ́́̐́͘+̸̸̴̣̠̠͍̦̫͂̓͗̐ͨͭ͘+̴̧̻̰̦̯́͊͒͗͌̐ͥͩ̐ͭ̔͟͞+̜̻͙̪̞ͥ̓ͯ̇̀͜͡͝͞+̫+͚̟̝͔̠̙̗̤͛̅̉̿͒̓ͬ͊́̚-̵̘̳̻̫̜̆ͥͯ̏͆̍͝͏̓-͕̰ͬ͂͛-̸̧̯̮̣̙͒ͣͧ̀͗҉̷͉̳̀ͣ̂ͪ͠-҉͓-̮̩̰̪͙̹̇ͪ̆̄͂̈ͧ́́̐́͘xciv.xc -̧̞̤͖̠̲̳̺̓͛ͩ͊͗͛͌̀ͦͤ-̷̵̩̲̲̞͈̯̣̬͔̭̈ͬ̓̏̐ͦ̚̕-̮̥̳̙̀ͣ́-̠-͍-̧̺̮͖̱̣͋́͛̈́̿-̷̣̰̭̣̘̻̲̑͋͌ͮ͝-̰̙̤͔͐ͨ̿̒́͝͞-͇͍͖ͪ̆ͦ̚-̵̻̲̼͇̜̉ͦͯ́̆̌ͪͦ͠ͅ-̴̤͓̣͔͊ͤͣ̃-͖̭̞̘͇̲͓̾͌-́͊-͚̀̚-̷̍̒ͩ҉-̛̩͇̏ͣͨͭ̈́̿̾ͫ́ͧͯ͡-̟̍-̯͈ͩ͏̸̠̪̾̈́̾-͋--̨̯͗͛̎̅ͮ: bb-26131-oe-itv--11

L O C A T I O N : PLANET PITTSBURGH , SURFACE , NORTH LIVING COMPLEX

. . . THIRTY DAYS LATER . . .

The wolves had been evacuated. His duty was almost done. He'd spent much longer than he intended to, getting wrapped up in his job of leadership once more. Things had started to feel like how they once were, a duty driven man driving others to duty, only this time there wasn't the needless resource squandering of his brother and his brothers friends. Who could have guessed that without the fun and games, they got further than with those that made them "happy". Well, as always, he brought the truth before them. Unfortunately, now that the reality of the universe being built on work and triumph was brought before them, there were a few that chose death over life. The petty selfishness that lead one to decide "If I can't live how I want to, then I want no part of life" was a plague to humanity, but, as with everything, could be used for the greater good.

And so they stood around him now, the 18 men and 3 women who decided that not being able to live the life promised by Meko, his delusional brother, was a fate worse than death. They would lead a charge against a house-group that served as a Xeno supply cache. For them, it was one way. They had been raised to know their own worth. They knew they would die this day. They had fully accepted that when they made the decision. No one said a word as they stood there. Everyone knew what one another was thinking. Ghods stood up before them, standing on top of a rock that was elevated above the rest. Before him stood his people. the few that still believed the lies and illusions of wealth and grandeur that Meko had promised them. Behind him lay a group of houses, their target. He couldn't convince them to change their minds. No words would matter to them, no matter how wise. Instead, he held his left hand over his heart, a salute of fidelity unto death, and they returned the gesture. They then gathered around him, to watch their target. To wait for an opportunity to strike.

For thirty days, Netsakh had been tormented by their bearers anger. For thirty days, they had hid deeper and deeper in their bearer's mind, searching for a small corner of hope. There was no such thing. They found a new depth of understanding in their bearer. An infinite abyss of wrath, without reason or hindrance. He was insane. Nothing mattered to him but the sedation of this anger at any cost. He wore thousands of fake personalities in his life, made thousands of fake identities simply for the sake of destroying as much as possible to feed this desire. But unlike the references that Netsakh knew from other minds, their bearer's insanity was calm. They knew patience. They knew the power of cycles. Unlike most minds that are insane, they knew how to wait. It was of no matter to Netsakh, this understanding. They were enclosed in this void, being dragged deeper into their bearer's insanity. It was a choking darkness. It was corrupting them, they could feel it...

It was time. Ghods motioned to his following, and they set out in a steady walk. They walked with purpose, giving the illusion that they were supposed to be there. They walked by two patrols of outer guards, with nothing more than head nods of acknowledgement. They approached the inner guard, two young men with long-rifles. Agiera tech, either semi-auto or burst fire. No matter, Ghods drew his pistol and shot both in the head before they had time to react. The shots that he fired rang out, echoing in the desert. Shouting from multiple buildings began to escalate. Confusion, not hostility. Not yet. His following split into groups of three, and began killing everyone they came across. Eventually, the realization hit the Xenos, and they began to return fire. Ghods had kept track of the outer patrols during this. The closer one began their way back to assist their colleagues in the town. The crackle of electricity that he had come to be familiar with filled the air near him for a short time, and he was invisible.

The closer patrol group was about thirty meters away, the further about ninety. Ghods mentally charted a connection between the group closer to him. First the lead, then the two behind them, then to the one straggling to the right, then to the last two. He unsheathed his combat knife, and followed that course, slitting their throats gracefully in one fluid movement, all of them collapsing behind him. As he had predicted, the group began firing in the general direction of where he was. He sidestepped a little, letting the plasmid rounds fly to his left, and he walked towards them. None of them took notice, and he once again laid a path between each person in the group. Without flaw, he executed in the same manner as the others. That takes care of backup, he thought to himself, and made his way back to the group of houses. He noticed the fine dust stirred up by his steps seemed to flow. The wind was picking up.

Something snapped Netsakh out of their lull. The suffocating deep that had claimed them seemed to flash a different shade of black. They could not call out, for the darkness took their voice. Their bearer could not hear them, other Lights could not hear them. They could not hear their bearer, nor the other Lights as well. Even so, amidst the ceaseless anger, a muffled shout came through. The buzz of Netsak's numb senses told them that the sound came from the darkling's mind. The shouting was not loud enough for them to make out any form of language. After a few unintelligible sentences, the shouting stopped. Time seemed to flow backward for those few moments. They had finally sensed something other than this horrible darkness, and now it was gone. However, a wind suddenly buffeted them, tossing them around in this darkness. They were helpless before the currents of this anger. They could never learn how, or from where it flowed.

An infinity passed in those few seconds. The truth was there. The answer to escape was simple. This darkness was within their bearer. Should they fully take their bearer's anger as their own, then this void becomes theirs. But, to take darkness would taint themselves. It is unthinkable. But it is the only way out? It is unthinkable to become as darkness is. Even as they reminded themselves of this, they grew tired. Resisting wore on them. The constant turmoil, the numb senses, the deafening silence, the choking voicelessness. It was easier to not resist. It caused them pain to defy the black waters they found themselves in. They wished for rest. They begged for rest. They begged for death. They begged for release. Their mute cries fell on deaf ears. But deaf ears heard. The infinite sinking stopped. They had reached the bottom of the abyss. The solid floor of darkness that they had found reached up and grabbed them. Netsakh let it grab them. Why resist?

Ghods had calmly walked back to the house groups. There was still shouting, but it was uniform. He walked through the roads, invisible. His wolves lay dead. All of them. 21 dead men and women, and about 50 dead Xenos. He smiled to himself, feeling proud of those people he led. They carried their convictions unto death. As he continued walking down through the houses, he began counting remaining Xenos. 28, and some more in a house that had been locked. The wind had picked up more, bringing a sandstorm that obscured their sight even more. Ghods decided it was time to make his move. A few stragglers he had marked had split enough to be unnoticed. One was making a call of some sort, probably reporting the attack. Ghods thrust his knife through his neck, breaking his spine and instantly killing him. The best kind of kill, he thought to himself. The phone he was holding seemed to be in the process of dialing. Ghods crushed it with his heel, and moved on. Another straggler, this one looking for the outer patrols. He received the same treatment. The sandstorm had a few minutes until it peaked.

Ghods drew his pistol once again, and made note of his targets. Two who seemed to be guarding. Two shots rang out, striking each of them in the head. Immediately, various energy bolts and physical rounds whizzed by him. With himself being invisible, and with the sandstorm nearing its full severity, they had no hope of coming near him with their shots. He fired again and again, each shot dropping one of them. The fear in their eyes as they gathered around the locked building nearly made him laugh. Again and again, he fired and hit. He took pause to sidestep incoming fire. In desperation, they simply fired in the general direction of the incoming rounds. Doing this actually brought them closer to hitting. Ghods was no fool, however. Stepping back to obscure himself in the sandstorm, he dropped his invisibility and switched his helmet into infrared view. Taking a deep breath, he channeled the energy that was going into his invisibility into his pistol, a black-market MM-13 plasma pistol. Overcharging it resulted in what it was known for, a highly explosive round of plasma and antimatter. The mini-mortar. He was nearly grinning as he pulled the trigger again. The resulting explosion flared on his vision, but from listening he could still discern what had happened. Firstly, all the defenders were dead, and secondly, the door had been destroyed.

Invisible again, he stepped forward to investigate what those people were guarding. Stepping over the remains, and onto the bent metal door that had been torn off its hinges, he stepped into a room. The sound of crying met his ears. Children. He scoffed at the feeble intent of the Xenos. As if having offspring would allow them to live forever. A foolish proposition he had heard many times before. Nonetheless, he raised his gun, and began firing.

The darkness consumed them. They felt nothing. The presence of nothing. A coalesced form of nothing? The metaphysical presence of nothing? Was there... something before them? Something that was nothing? Netsakh asked without a voice: "What are you?" It did not answer, yet it was answer enough. It was darkness. It was nothing. It was absence. "What do you want from us?" It answered, yet the answer was not enough. "Suffering."
"We are suffering."
It laughed.
"Bring proof. You lie. You mock me? Why must I? What am I? What are you? Bring proof. You lie. You lie."
A realization came to Netsakh. It was repeating. It was unthinking. It was demanding assimilation, and through that it kept Netsakh trapped in this consciousness. So Netsakh answered, with no voice, with no truth, with no light: "There is no proof. We... I do not lie. You must not. You are not. I am not. I do not lie."

It laughed.

Netsakh laughed with it. It was easier than fighting nothing.

Something had finally given him pause. There was a single child left. A little girl with gold hair. At first, she had screamed and hid as Ghods executed the children in the building. However, now she simply sat, wide blue eyes watching as he raised his gun to her forehead. What gave him pause was the beeping that came from his pistol. What a dramatic time to overheat, he thought to himself. He stared into her eyes, as she looked up into the three visual sensors on his helmet. They seemed blank. She wasn't afraid anymore, that was for sure. He made a rough estimate on his chances of being tracked if he left her alive. Low, but non-zero. Once again, he brought his invisibility upon himself, and he left. His ship's location was marked on the display in his helmet, and he needed to get off-planet as soon as possible. Despite a single outpost on a single planet not being anything close to a significant dent in the Xeno movement, fanatics retaliate in full force to every threat. He'd done what he came to do. His people were safe, and he had some revenge in the mix.

Deep in the sandstorm, his helmet ejected a spent air filter. To his utter surprise, a loud ding came from behind him, followed by a thump, and then the soft pat of the filter hitting the ground. He turned to see what had happened. Collapsed at his feet was the girl he had left alive. He guessed that she had been following his footprints, and the ejected filter had struck her. As she got to her feet, she coughed slightly. The sandstorm was choking her. He let his invisibility fall and pointed his pistol towards her. She didn't say a word, and moreover didn't flinch. Instead, she reached for his pistol, almost caressing it as she held it to her head. She was begging for death. He wouldn't be commanded, demanded, or begged for anything from some spawn of a Xeno. As he huffed in disgust, he reached into a utility pouch on his thigh. He brought out a spare filter, and crushed it in his hand. Pulling the wad of fiber from the center of the filter, he handed it to the girl. "You want to die, you pathetic thing? Show me you're worthy of it. Bite this, and don't let go until I say so." She did so immediately. The remnant glass shards stabbed her mouth, and Ghods couldn't help but take notice of the contrast between her bright red blood and her soft white skin. She had been well sheltered for an inhabitant of Pittsburgh. Strange, given the perpetual poverty of this planet. Nevertheless, he tucked her under his arm and carried her the rest of the way to his ship.

Netsakh could see again. They quickly sifted through the memories. The darkling had disobeyed them. Despite their clear order to not take unnecessary risks, he had gone and fed his anger more. He had done something that would attract attention. And worse so, he had kept some sort of memento. "Is there nothing that you do that is not riddled with lose ends?"
The darkling did not answer out loud, but instead spoke to Netsakh's mind. "Woah, what happened to your deadpan monotone?"
"Do not question me, fool. And do not respond to my question with a question."
"Wait... "me?"? "my"? Since when can you understand first-person perspec-"
"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT QUESTIONING ME?"
"Alright, fine. You can see in my head. You know damn well what I'm doing."
"You follow your anger around blindly, making poor decisions for the sake of self-sati-"
"Stop. I'm not having this chat right now."
Netsakh stopped. They did question themselves why they stopped, but found no answer. They felt their own anger building up, as well as their bearer's. What a hopeless case.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .

.͈̤̺̼ͣͭ͞҉̘̀ͫ̉.͎̬ͦ̔ͧ̍̾̃̍̇ͣ͝.͕̺̰̘ͧ̏ͥͬ̃.̪͙͕.͏̖͉.̴̯̤̭̟̍ͣ̄.̩̩͖͙̻͓̞̏ͨ̈́͋͒͂͆̃͛͛͟.̙̭̳́̂ͤ̀͘.̲͇̹ͩ̾̆ͨ̀ͫ͘͞.̘͕̮̟̉ͯ̃̒ͮͩ̂͘̚͜.ͅ҉͗.̵̣͕̄.̷̶̩̰̮͖̹̍ͮ̅ͨͤ́̉̎̇ͨ̍.̵̡̦̓̉ͬͅ.̸̬̞͋͂͑ͭͤ̑.̱̉͟.͏̛̳̺̟.̷̝ͩ͛.̜͍̏̒͌͗͢.̪̠̙̩̥̟͑ͬ̑̀́ͭ̾̀--+̸̸̴̣̠̠͍̦̫͂̓͗̐ͨͭ͘+̴̧̻̰̦̯́͊͒͗͌̐ͥͩ̐ͭ̔͟͞+̜̻͙̪̞ͥ̓ͯ̇̀͜͡͝͞+̫+͚̟̝͔̠̙̗̤͛̅̉̿͒̓ͬ͊́̚-̵̘̳̻̫̜̆ͥͯ̏͆̍͝͏̓-͕̰ͬ͂͛-̸̧̯̮̣̙͒ͣͧ̀͗҉̷͉̳̀ͣ̂ͪ͠-҉͓-̮̩̰̪͙̹̇ͪ̆̄͂̈ͧ́́̐́͘

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