This is the story of how my life was forever changed, how I became something much more then any man could be. How I became the bringer of death... The Harbinger.
The dock workers of Manhattan had been hurrying to offload the latest shipment of luxury goods straight from the the factories of Kyushu for the upper class citizens of the planet.
Suddenly the P.A came to life, "Denison! Get your ass in here! You got yourself some explaining to do!"
The workers all stopped and looked at one man, his name was Brian Denison. Born and raised on Manhattan but never meant for greatness, always meant to work for someone else.
As he put down the boxes and moved towards the central office under the staring eyes of his co-workers he knew deep down that something, somewhere had gone horribly wrong and he was the scape goat. It always happened like that, there was enough people looking for work that employers could shift the blame onto someone they don't like and replace them within a day.
As soon as he got inside the waiting room the secretary ushered him in, eager not to lose her own job over the fuss. Walking in he could see that the manager was particular pissed off today, normally a general hard ass but today was different. "Uhhh is there a problem sir?" He trembled.
"Your god damned right there's a problem boy! Look at these delivery notices!" As he threw a bunch of papers at Brian who was trying desperately to clean them up and make sense of them.
"I... I don't see whats wrong with them sir."
"What? You don't see? Are you freaking blind?! Your the one who checked off the delivery right?!"
"Uhhh no sir that was -"
"Don't you dare try to pin the blame on someone else! You bloody dock workers are all the same, ungrateful low lifes who are just trying to steal from us who actually try to make a living!"
"You don't understa -"
"I... Don't... Understand?! How dare you... You!... You bastard! Get the hell out of my office! I never want to see your face around here again you hear me?!"
Defeated Brian had no choice but to leave, the average worker nowadays had absolutely no say in how things were run, that's just how the things were.
Having no job and no money meant absolutely no future for the man, within a few days he - like the millions of other people on Manhattan - had to resort to crime to be able to put something that resembled a roof over his head. Stealing and pickpocketing from people who were in a situation just as dire as his own, he had no choice however. When you fall to that stage its survival of the fittest, if you didn't have what it took to do it then you don't have a chance in hell of surviving the harsh surroundings.
Before long the man had found a way to drown his sorrows, he quickly became an alcoholic, having a roof over his head no longer mattered as long as he could drink his way to forgetting how pathetic his life had become. He slowly began losing his mind, started to imagine people were talking to him - whispering to him, telling him secrets... Telling him to kill.
With no money, no home, no life it became easy to take the lives of others - why should they enjoy the comfort while he must suffer day in and day out. While the upper class citizens wined and dined, threw away any food that wasn't up to their own standards he had nothing. Nothing but the cold of the nights and the pain of intense hunger. Every day it became more logical in his own mind that if they can take what they have for granted then he has every right to take their life, it was only fair anyway, they would make others suffer so that they may live luxuriously so he would make them suffer. Make them feel the pain that he felt everyday of his life.
