The Skulls Mercenaries would collect yet another feather in their cap. Having never failed a mission, we were tasked with guarding the train. Rather, we were tasked with guarding the precious cargo on it.
The journey had been long and intense. Two days of shooting and being shot at. There were many injuries, but not one casualty. My men were the toughest soldiers out there, my personal picks. They would never fail.
This was it, the last bridge to the tunnel, and a heavy pay day.
They are often bumfuzzled by my eccentricities. They snigger behind my back, and call me names. Yes, I know they do, my hearing is just fine. I like one of the names they call me – Mister Oil. It sounds like one of those superhero names.
They may laugh at my habit of collecting oil cans. However, their laughter will be wiped out soon when the mechabots invade earth, and I will be spared because I will be ready to service the conquerors with my oil cans.
I stood at the bank of the river with my hands in my pockets. I watched as the little stream of water flowed down the rocks, making soft gurgling music. It was a real sweet sound, but I was not interested in it. I wanted to listen to the roar of the river. Watch the river flow in its full force. I wanted to watch the rapids in all their glory. I knew the river was waiting for me, as I was waiting for it.
Our camp under the abandoned bridge was hardly a location worthy to be called our leader’s final resting place. He deserves so much more than a makeshift grave and a randomly selected rock as his tombstone. None of us standing here, paying our final respects to him, would have been alive had it not been for his bravery. He was the one who saved us from the extraterrestrial invaders, and taught us how to fight back. We are lost without him. However, that could be changed.
It is a gamble, but the necromancer could help us…
It looks perfect if I say so myself, just as I had visualized in my dreams. After weeks and weeks of toiling under the sun, braving the strong winds and sitting out in the dark night, my masterpiece is complete. People will look at it in awe, gaze at it in puzzlement, trying to figure out the meaning behind my art. They will understand soon. It’ll all become clear when my master appears on Earth. My master, The Great Old One is coming.
And boy, will he be pleased with this sculpture he commanded me to make….
You were never a player. The game was always mine.
I chose my pieces and my moves as I saw fit. Every piece was placed only to dance to my tunes. Whether one found glory, or one found death, was all up to me. And in the very end, none of your moves made any difference. You made those moves because I allowed you to. Your will, your dreams, your aspirations, none of those ever mattered.
Mathew parked the car in front of an abandoned stone building.
His borrowed powers had drawn him to the evil energy pulsating from this structure. He knew that his nemesis was inside. Mathew could see that there was no need to unlock the door. It had been blasted to smithereens.
As he stepped inside, Matthew saw a familiar pair of bloodshot eyes…