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Thread: The Dark Army (R)

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    Default The Dark Army (R)

    Rated R fic approved by Psychic.

    So... this is a preview to the story which I have been brainstorming since late 2006. It started out cliche, but I improved upon it drastically. I restarted the whole story at least three times in order to update it, and now I think it is worthy of being posted.

    WARNING: This fic has been rated R for moments of graphic yet concentrated bloodletting, dark/controverisal elements, and occasional uses of strong language.

    The Dark Army

    August 2nd, 1953

    Roswell area, New Mexico

    Fifteen miles south of Area 51

    02:44

    It was a dark and cloudy night. The military waited on the cold granite that made up the ground which they stood. This was to be a silent operation. The military discovered an ancient artifact that sparked a fright in an Area 51 scientist Flint Torus, and the military was sent to set up a base on this barren plot of land in order to investigate this artifact. The artifact was large, and could hardly be moved. It very much resembled the Stonehenge, but it was considerably smaller, and according to Dr. Torus, it was riddled with an unidentifiable language inscribed all across the stone.

    “What made you scared, Dr. Torus?” the commander of the investigation troop questioned. Dr. Torus continued to shiver as he saw the investigation team gear up to be as prepared as possible if this artifact could be dangerous.

    “My colleagues and I, we… we went down here for some sampling of any flora in this region. We managed to find a few samples, but… they went with my colleagues.”

    “What do you mean by that? Did your colleagues just leave you behind and returned to Area 51 when you all collected the samples?”

    “No… no, that isn’t close to what happened. I remember seeing their faces… I remember seeing them in pain…”

    “What happened? Why were they in pain?” the commander continued the questions.

    “After we had successfully secured the samples to return to Area 51, we stumbled across that rock. Upon seeing it, I knew… I knew it wasn’t natural,” Dr. Torus answered. “But my colleagues were ignorant and naďve… they did not think that they would be in serious trouble upon touching that rock. Granted, I had little idea as well, but I simply had a hunch, and what happened proved that my hunch was correct.”

    “What happened next?” the commander asked.

    “Well, as if my implications haven’t been made clear already, they stood on the artifact, trying to read the language on it. They managed to take a picture of the text, which I am certain you have with you already, since their camera didn’t go with them,” Dr. Torus explained. “Within seconds after they took the photograph, I suddenly saw their skin just… just fly off of their body. It was then that they started screaming in pain. I turned to see if they were alright, but by that time, their muscle tissue was already being pulled from their bones… Soon, all I saw on them was a skeletal structure, which even that eventually disintegrated into nowhere.”

    “Where did their remains go to?” the commander asked.

    “I have not a clue, sir,” Dr. Torus replied.

    “Okay…” the commander remarked. He was jotting everything Dr. Torus said onto a small piece of paper. “Continue.”

    “When they completely disappeared, I quickly jumped into my automobile and took off for Area 51, because I, at first, believed that it may have been a spectral being. However, my pressure derived from that instance tells me that I wasn’t thinking straight, as clearly ghosts do not exist,” Dr. Torus iterated. “After hours of weeping, I did a small personal investigation, and I have come down to the hypothesis that everything that had happened that night was entirely connected to that artifact.”

    “Well, you are the scientist here, Dr. Torus. You form the hypothesis, now you must experiment,” the commander responded.

    “So you go as far as sending a couple of valuable men to test and see if my hypothesis can be confirmed to be correct?” Dr. Torus asked, not sure of the commander’s intentions on solving this.

    “If it makes you feel better, think of it as a reenactment of the night your colleagues supposedly ‘died’. Only this time, the people who will go out there to test your estimation are wearing suits that will hopefully prevent the exact effect from happening again, if what you are saying in true.”

    “I am only telling you what I saw. If what I saw was the truth, then that is a bonus for me,” Dr. Torus said.

    The two walked over to the nearby tent. The commander stuck his head in and said something to the troops. His voice was muffled, as the tent walls were blocking his voice. He stuck his head back out and turned to Dr. Torus.

    “How many men died that night?” he wondered.

    “Only two of my colleagues went with me,” Dr. Torus answered. After the commander stuck his head into the tent again and spoke to his men, he stepped back and watched as two investigators wearing quarantine suits stepped out. One did not have to listen closely to hear the snoring sound that was the breathing of the investigators. “I do not approve of this, sir.”

    “We don’t care. If a tourist comes about and gets sucked in as well, then we may be facing a nationwide controversy story, where everyone will blame the government even if we had little to do with this. Anything we can do to stop that from happening is better than sitting back and being attacked by large waves of the news media and press,” the commander barked. Dr. Torus kept quiet for a bit after that. He seemed to have forgotten that arguing with someone in the government would be pointless.

    “Ready to go, sir?” an investigator asked the commander while facing his general direction. The investigator’s voice was transmitted through a device much like a walkie-talkie.

    “If you are,” the commander said. The two investigators nodded, and began walking casually toward the artifact, which was surrounded by yellow police tape and stood a good fifty feet away from the camp. They ducked under the tape, and continued toward the artifact. Dr. Torus stood as still as a statue with a frightened complexion on his face as he watched the men walk closer to their demise.

    Soon enough, the men stepped onto the artifact and stood still. The commander, who was with Dr. Torus back at the camp, spoke into the walkie-talkie while eyeing the two investigators.

    “Give it a few moments. According to Dr. Torus, the effect didn’t kick in until a minute or two after his colleagues were on the artifact,” the commander spoke, with one of his hands on his hip, the other holding the walkie-talkie. From afar, the commander could see the men nod and salute, which triggered the commander to place his other hand on his other hip.

    After about forty-five seconds of dead silence, something strange happened. Something Dr. Torus predicted would come to be. The heavy plastics and metals that made up the quarantine suit the investigators wore were ripped off, leaving two men with jumpsuits on. After that, their skin promptly began to, as Dr. Torus described it, fly off of their body. The two men began screaming in extreme pain as their muscle tissue slowly disappeared as well. Dr. Torus turned away before the screaming stopped. After large amounts of blood and muscle tissue poured into the air around the two men, all that was left was their organ systems and skeleton. By this time, they had already stopped screaming, and soon, they simply disappeared from sight. Dr. Torus’s eyes were tearing up as he sobbed. The commander could not believe that such a thing could occur.

    “Can somebody explain to me what the fuck just happened?” a forensic scientist nearby asked, walking up closer to stand next to the commander and Dr. Torus.

    “The death of two innocent men,” the commander replied. “That’s what happened.”

    The commander called for everyone to circle, and about ten other men followed the orders.

    “All of you, I suppose, go search for the remains of our two lost lives. If you don’t find anything, then, well… I don’t know. Just follow the orders,” he commanded.

    “Yes sir!” the men all said, and broke off.

    “Stay off the artifact!” the commander yelled. He turned to Dr. Torus. “You were right. I never thought you were sane when you came to us with this story, but you were right.”

    Dr. Torus patted the commander on the back. “Sir, I hope you know that I wish I was not right,” Dr. Torus said.

    “I know.”

    A large white flash emitted, and the commander subsequently covered his face. Everyone else in the area did so as well. When the light died down, the commander looked at the artifact. Sure enough, the light came from the artifact. Lying on top of the stone was a figure that sported dark hues of emerald in the crisp dark air. The commander spotted this figure, and ordered a few men to go check it out without stepping on the artifact. The men did so, and they surrounded the figure. The figure forced itself onto its feet, which revealed that the figure was alive, it was an animal, and it was bipedal. The creature sported four wings, two of which also seemed to boast the creature’s claws. The investigators pulled a magnum out of their gun holders, and pointed at the being. The being, once it opened its eyes to see the sight before it, cocked its head to the side.

    “Guns? There’s no need to be violent. Just because I am not human does not mean you are entitled to treat me like shit,” the being said. The investigators’ eyes widened at how the creature spoke as if it knew the English language throughout its life, and how it recognized what guns were. “Surprised? Don’t be. If I’m here for an unexplained reason, then clearly, you humans have done something very wrong.”

    An enraged investigator, who did not like the creature’s guts, ran at the creature to punch it. Just before the blow was delivered, the creature grabbed the man by the forearm and bent his arm back, all within a timeframe of one second. The man who was stupid enough to attempt the blow was crying aloud in pain at his broken shoulder as he lied on the ground. One of the bystanders quickly called for the creature to be taken to Area 51. The creature responded by doing absolutely nothing. Its claws were tied up as it was thrown into a vehicle and driven off. The man who drove the vehicle pulled out a walkie-talkie and radioed to inform that he had a threatening creature with him.

    “Are you seriously labeling me as a threat when what I did was an act of self-defense? The man was going to sock me across the face. Last time I checked, the one who attempts the first blow is the one who is considered the true threat,” the creature said. The man in the passenger seat turned around to look at the being.

    “You aren’t human. Your first impression was not a good one,” the man said.

    “That man’s first impression was not very good, either,” the creature pointed out.

    “A first impression can tell someone a lot about someone—or something—else. It tells us if what we are facing is hostile or not,” the man replied, sounding slightly more irritated.

    “Allow me to ask you this. If I was a human in that instance, would you deliver me to Area 51 to lock me up with the freaks, or would you call it a matter of self-defense and prosecute the one who attacks first? Obviously, the latter. But since I’m clearly not human, the punishment you give me for an entirely justifiable act is magnified in intensity in the negative sense. Typical for you humans,” the creature ranted.

    “Typical?” the man started. “When the hell did you see a human before?”

    “1842, in London. I had some business to take care of with a fellow interdimmen whom refused to return to the universe of which both he and I came from,” the creature replied. “And before that, 1736, which consisted of a trip here that was entirely accidental.”

    The man and the driver began to break out in laughter.

    “Ha! 1842? 1736? What kind of mental institute did you break out of?” the man wondered, chuckling.

    “Ah,” the creature began. “I completely forgot you humans actually age. I apologize for the confusion.”

    “What the hell do you mean by that ‘we actually age’?” the man asked, reverting back to his serious, irritated tone.

    “Exactly as the phrase sounds; you humans actually age. Where I come from, nothing dies of old age.”

    “Impossible. There is no such way for it to work like that. Everything dies eventually,” the man pointed out.

    “I never denied that. I simply stated that where I come from, it’s impossible to die of old age. We mature, and then we never age after that. We still are capable of dying, but not from age,” the creature said.

    “Hey, do they have a loony wing at Area 51? This guy would be a perfect fit!” the driver remarked, and both of the men laughed aloud. The creature sighed.

    It wasn’t long until another light emitted.

    “Crap, another one? Do we have to face another loony lizard-gargoyle-thing?” the passenger seat man said, which triggered both men to laugh out loud yet again.

    “It is not likely that another of my species would directly follow my arrival unless it was their intention. Mostly because, well, I am the last of my species,” the creature spoke.

    “The last of your kind? Oh, I’m sorry. Should we just pity you or something?” the driver asked.

    “I don’t need your pity. I was simply making a point. You don’t even know how old I am, do you?”

    “I don’t care,” the driver said.

    Suddenly, a frightening virile scream transmitted through the walkie-talkie. The two men looked terrified as they heard loud explosions and people screaming in pain. The creature had a bored look on his face.

    “May I speak into the radio communicator?” the creature asked.

    “Hell no,” the passenger seat man barked.

    “I only want to ask a description of the creature over there, next to the gate,” the creature said.

    “Gate? What gate?” the driver asked.

    “The dimensional gate. The gate I emerged from. The second light means another creature came from it, and the screaming from across the radio means it is not friendly,” the creature informed.

    “How about I just call for military assistance? That should work too,” the driver said.

    “We should probably turn around, just to see if everything is sorted out,” the man in the passenger seat suggested.

    “From the sounds of the screams on that radio, I can tell things are not sorted out,” the creature said. “But if my hunch is correct, if we turn around, I can probably take care of the problem.”

    “You?” the driver asked. “I’m going to turn around, but I want you to stay where you are. Capiche?”

    The creature nodded in agreement. The driver turned the car around, and headed back toward the artifact.

    The driver parked the car, and got out with the man who was in the passenger seat. What they saw outside was disastrous. The military had come as requested by someone else, apparently, as two tanks surrounded a giant creature that had a silver armor and a red vinyl on its helmet. The monster sported a gigantic cannon on its right arm, with a scythe-like structure on its left. The overall posture of the monster was humanoid, and it moved slowly as it fired explosive beams of fire, burning waves of military soldiers to the ground. It continuously roared a deep, loud screech as it trudged about. Tanks fired at the monster with their grenades, with no effect other than a small flinch from the monster.

    The creature who was tied up in the car heard the booming roars and immediately seemed to know what the humans were up against. In an act of valiance, the creature cut the rope that bound his wrists together, and exited the vehicle. It was capable of achieving this before, but the creature had separate intentions. The creature, whom was secure within the knowledge that he was unarmed, flew with his four wings to the closest military group and swiped a carbine from a rifleman. It landed safely about sixty feet from the silver, armored monster, and lured it to himself.

    “Oi!” the winged creature called, whistling shortly after. The silver monster, enraged, turned to stare at the now-rifle-equipped creature, who shifted itself into hip-fire aim. The armored monster began to charge its cannon. But to its dismay, a loud cliunk! was sounded off, and one split second later, a large trail of blood flew out of the back of the armored creature’s head. The enormous silver being fell to its knees, and then onto its face. The rifle-equipped creature walked up to the corpse, and kicked it with rage. A few seconds later, a group of military soldiers surrounded the rifle-equipped creature with a large plethora of weapons spread across the lot of them.

    “Freeze! Drop the weapon!” a military lieutenant called.

    “All right,” the creature responded, and dropped the carbine. He raised his hands in the air. An unarmed bodybuilder wearing military uniform pushed the surrounding circle apart and bent down to pick the carbine up. The man looked into the black eyes of the winged creature.

    “If you ever steal my weapon again, I will fuck you hard,” the man said in a deep, serious voice. The winged creature simply nodded in response. “Take him away to Area 51.”

    A smaller group that was once a part of the larger group grabbed the creature by the wrists, and held on tight.

    “You’re gonna love your new home,” one of the soldiers taunted. The creature replied by spitting on the respective soldier. The creature was to be hauled to Area 51 and kept there like all of the other military secrets that could not be leaked to the public. And it would remain there for a very long time.

    August 4th, 1953

    Area 51

    18:06

    The winged creature was held in the prison for the freaks in Area 51 for about sixty hours, and just by the end of that time period, it is meant to be interrogated by the army for information they believe it left out. The creature was pushed into the interrogation room, where a forensic investigator followed behind him. Military soldiers armed with rifles were guarding the doors in case the winged creature had any malicious intentions.

    “This is about how I broke that man’s shoulder, which may I reiterate that it was an act of self-defense, is it not?” the creature asked.

    “Forget that little instance. The man’s fine. He’ll need a cast for his arm, but he won’t die. This is about everything else that went on two nights ago,” the scientist said. “Okay, I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and you are going to answer them as honestly as possible in order to avoid bigger trouble. Keep in mind that we are recording everything you say.”

    “Fair enough,” the creature responded.

    “Okay, first question…” the scientist started. “Do you have a name?”

    “Yes.”

    “What is it?”

    “Drakath,” the creature replied. “My name is Drakath.”

    “Where were you, and what were you doing, on the night of August 2nd, 1953, at 02:42 hours?” the scientist asked.

    “Aside from being whisked away against my will and killing a gargantuan Omegawarrior, I was merely reading a book in Rahtouri,” Drakath said.

    “Omegawarrior? Care to elaborate on that?” the scientist wondered. Drakath sighed.

    “The Omnicoteph Omegawarrior, the highest class and breed of soldier under the wing of Ahkkarhad, who leads the Omnicoteph organization of slavery and destruction. Omegawarriors are extremely rare to come by considering the illegal funding Ahkkarhad has to sift through in order to simply breed one, let alone supply it with its near-perfect armor. It is presumably an enslaved gargantuan hominid wearing a silver-like suit of armor that which has a large fuel tank on its back, supplying the monster with its flare cannon’s juice. Its right arm holds the aforementioned flare cannon, which fires a quickly-vaporizing beam of concentrated flame that reaches a total temperature of well over 30,000 degrees Fahrenheit. The range of the beam is large, and is capable of wiping entire armies out in one shot, hence why the Omegawarriors are so damn valuable. That is what your military faced two nights ago, and that is the monster which I killed with a stolen carbine,” Drakath explained. “The left arm sports a multi-bladed scythe, and to top that off, the armor is entirely indestructible, thus making mindless barrages of bullets useless. The only way to kill an Omegawarrior is to successfully shove something with a considerably large net force through the very small breathing hole in the center of the helmet that which Ahkkarhad supplies to the Omegawarriors so that they do not die of a lack of nitrogen, an element which the Omegawarrior is very much dependent on.”

    “So… slow and steady wins the race?” the scientist asked.

    “In this case, yes,” Drakath responded.

    “Okay… what is the Omnicoteph?”

    “An organization led by a steam-powered cyborg named Ahkkarhad. They are the most technologically advanced organization in all of Rahtouri, but they are also the most despised. Ahkkarhad recruits new warriors through brute force carried out with his Swatters, which are the most common Omnicoteph warrior out there. But the Omnicoteph mean little to you humans. The whole Omegawarrior encounter that took hold two nights ago was a modest fluke,” Drakath said.

    “What are you, how were you familiar with firearms, and how are you so fluent with the English language?”

    “Answering the first question, I am what they call a ‘crulic gargoyle’, crulic meaning ‘the first’.”

    “And by the first, you mean the first gargoyles, or what?” the scientist questioned.

    “No, go further back than that. ‘The first’ as in, the first chordates,” Drakath said. The scientist’s eyes widened. “Anyhow, I am familiar with firearms because you can say that I am the father of guns.”

    The scientists all around began laughing.

    “You are not even familiar with my background, my age, or my profile, yet you laugh when I claim something you would immediately write off as ‘ridiculous’? I would think that a benefit to not being human would be that, in certain senses and perspectives, it is far easier to believe the creature. Was I wrong?” Drakath asked.

    “Eh… look. A couple of men told me you claim to have been around since 1736, perhaps before, and that where you come from nobody can decease from old age. If that’s the case, just how old are you?” the scientist demanded.

    “Oh, so age is now a factor in this equation? Is it not you humans who enforce the law that states that it is illegal to discriminate others based on age? Never mind, do not answer that. If you truly must know how old I am, I suggest you carbon date me,” Drakath said.

    Behind the screen where the men were recording, a man who was smoking a cigarette spoke to another man. “Carbon dating?” he wondered. “Wasn’t that only developed a couple of years ago?”

    “It’s a method to determine how old fossils are. The method is in its infancy, yes, and we don’t exactly have a general grasp on how it works as of yet. I’m not even sure if it is possible to carbon date someone who is alive,” the other man said.

    “All right, this is the question everyone here is asking: What the hell happened with the artifact? Why did it act up?” the scientist wondered.

    “I’m not sure. As I said, I was innocently thrown out of what I was doing and found myself lying on the cold stone of the Shikron Gate. I am certain that was the same case as with the Omegawarrior,” Drakath said. “Did you, perhaps, try to insert one of your people into Rahtouri?”

    “If this Shikron Gate you speak of is the thing we refer to as the artifact, then yes, we sent two men to test a hypothesis formed by our local biologist, Dr. Flint Torus.”

    “That would explain it, then,” Drakath stated. “You see, humans, if they attempt to enter Rahtouri, which is a universe different from this one, will die rather than be teleported into the universe. It is likely a flaw in the code of physics and how they differentiate between this universe and Rahtouri. But anyhow, after a gruesomely violent death, however many humans you send into the gate will die and be replaced with however many numbers of monsters from Rahtouri, a definite flaw in the interloping codes and scripts of physics that detail each universe and separate them from each other. Rahtouri tries to give you your men back through replacing them with random creatures from it, unknowingly unaware that humans are toxically discriminate monsters that treat anything out of the ordinary like shit. It is unaware of that because codes and scripts are clearly not sentient, so the flaw will remain for good. I was the first replacement, and the Omegawarrior was the second replacement.”

    “All right…” the scientist said. “Now, about how you know English so well.”

    “You practically answered that yourself with your question of my age. Not only was I around humans for so long, but English has been the central language in Rahtouri for hundreds of millions of years before first of the ancestor of the ancestor of the ancestor of the human race was even born,” Drakath explained.

    “But… how is that possible? We never interact with your world,” the scientist responded.

    “Oh, but you do, and you have. As we speak, you are interacting with our world simply through speaking to me. Have you ever thought of that? How can you prove that you did not meet a Galrant who is undercover in the disguise of a human? How can you prove that the Necroarbiter is not watching your every move and telling the other worlds through its words of wisdom? I am certain that you cannot come up with a plausible answer to any of those barring the first one,” Drakath challenged.

    “Is this ‘Necroarbiter’ thing you speak of some sort of God to your kind?” the scientist asked.

    “Not to my kind, no,” Drakath answered. “I simply see it as an omnipresent spirit who watches everything… the Dreikenauns, on the other hand, revere the beast as their true God, in a religion that very closely resembles Christianity, with the exception that there is no devil. There is only God.”

    “Dreikenauns? Shit, man. You just keep on mentioning crap I’ve never even heard of. Could you please try to make what you’re talking about a little less… esoteric?” the scientist asked. Drakath shifted his position in his seat.

    “No,” Drakath started. “Because this is the kind of information that you either know or you don’t.”

    “Well, you could explain it to us, if possible,” the scientist noted. Drakath sighed.

    “Many things from the other world are not meant to be seen by the naked eye in this world. Not yet. You will learn of the Dreikenauns when the time comes,” Drakath responded.

    “What the hell are you talking about, ‘when the time comes’? What kind of significance does a certain time have?” the scientist retorted. Drakath leaned forward, closer to the scientist’s face.

    “Your species plays a large role in this entire scheme, believe it or not,” Drakath hissed. “And it is only a matter of time before this world comes to a tragic end.” Drakath stood up. “I am done here. I shall say no more on that matter.”

    “You may be done here, but we aren’t. So just sit your ass right back down and answer our questions,” the scientist demanded. Drakath reached out, and gripped the scientist by his lab coat. He dragged the scientist across the metal table, inspiring a startled and scared look on the scientist’s face, and held the scientist’s face to his. Drakath gained an angered complexion as he glared into the frightened scientist’s eyes. He then heard clicking sounds in succession, and noticed the military men pointing their rifles at Drakath. Drakath looked around him, then back at the scientist.

    “Listen to me. I am done here. I refuse to elaborate on my words further until time progresses. If you choose to interrogate me further, I will twist your spine whilst secure within the knowledge that I would have my brain subsequently splattered across the floor and walls behind me from a tiny lead pellet fired from a concentrated rifle. I am done now, but you will need me in time. And if you force me to kill you, thus killing me, then you lose your final chance of survival. Make your choice,” Drakath growled. Shivering in fear, the scientist called for the doors to be opened in a quivering voice. The doors leading into the interrogation room opened, and a few military personnel grabbed Drakath by the wrists, and escorted him out. The scientist left through the other exit, which led into the room full of scientists who were listening to the interrogation from the other side.

    “Why the hell did you let the creature go? You’re always supposed to force answers out of the interrogated, and you never allow them to win over you,” one of the over watching scientists said.

    “I know,” the interrogator said. “But… this creature is not any human. When I looked into his eyes, I knew he meant every word he said. And, frankly… I wish to keep my life.”

    The other scientist wiped his face with his hands in disappointment. “Drakath said that this world would come to a tragic end in time… I wonder when that is?”

    “Hopefully not in this lifetime,” the interrogator said in hope.

    “I predict it to be the year 2000,” one of the other scientists estimated.

    “Perhaps… but there is no way to know for sure.”

    Author's Notes

    Drakath:
    What you may think is his tail is not. He does not have a tail.
    Omnicoteph Omegawarrior:
    Rawr. I am blurry.

    *braces for criticism*
    Fetilĺse sge jütěkxěyalä çät kijütěkxěyaläyé.
    I've arrived at the conclusion that jumping to conclusions is highly inconclusive.
    deviantART | last.fm | Pogeymanz
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  2. #2
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    Chapter Two

    April 27th, 1981

    San Francisco Medical Hospital, San Francisco, CA

    13:44

    Maria Dorple was in labor. She was about to give birth to her first child, who was going to be a baby boy. Her husband, Edward Dorple, who worked for the U.S. military, was right beside her, supporting her all the way. Edward was just as excited as his wife in about to have his first son.

    “All right, Mrs. Dorple, I need you to breathe as needed, and push as hard as you can,” the doctor said. Maria followed the orders. After a bit of fidgeting, the doctor had a surprised look on her face. “Oh my.”

    “What?!” Maria screamed in pain. “What is it?!”

    “We are going to have to perform a c-section on her, the baby is too large! Give her some morphine!” the doctor yelled. A nurse ran in with a needle and shoved it into Maria’s vein in her arm.

    “Everything is going to be okay, Maria. Just hang on, and bear with me,” the nurse said. Maria nodded as she continued to breathe heavily. Soon, her breathing slowed, as she saw the area around her slow down. She felt dizzy, yet relaxed at the same time. The morphine began to kick in.

    The surgeons ran into the hospital room and began to cut open Maria’s stomach in order to retrieve the baby from her uterus. Maria felt nothing but pressure.

    In seconds, Maria, through her dizzy and scattered hearing, heard a baby crying. She asked the nurse nearby if she could hold her baby, but the nurse injected another, smaller dose of morphine to allow the surgeons to sew everything back together.

    “The baby needs some obligatory operating. Don’t panic. All newborns are put through this. You’ll be holding your baby soon enough,” the nurse assured. Maria simply closed her eyes, and went to sleep.
    A few hours passed between Maria’s delivery and the current time. The morphine’s effects began to wear off, and Maria wanted to hold her child. She called for a nurse.

    “Where is my baby?” she asked.

    “Your son requires some extended operations, as he seems to sport some abnormalities…” the nurse said. “I’ll get your husband in here.”

    “Thank you,” Maria said. Shortly after, Edward came into the hospital room.

    “Honey, what’s going on? What is happening to poor little Daniel?” Maria asked.

    “Erm… dear, Daniel is not… eh, how do I put this… right,” Edward said.

    “Well, what do you mean? As in, he is deformed?” Maria asked, half-terrified.

    “No, no, dear. Quite the contrary. But it isn’t normal to see what Daniel is like. Here, I’ll show you him. He’s ready to be held…”

    Edward left the room, and returned shortly after with a baby in his hands. He handed the baby to Maria, who then held it in her arms. Soon, Maria shrieked.

    “Oh my goodness!” Maria shouted. “What is wrong with his eyes? What is wrong with his fingernails? And his teeth? What happened here?”

    “We have no idea, dear,” Edward responded.

    “Call a priest immediately. Our son is possessed!” Maria said, beginning to sob.

    What Maria saw was a baby with red eyes, a set of razor-sharp teeth in its mouth, and long, grotesquely sharp, black fingernails sprouting from its hands.

    “How did this thing not tear through my uterus?” Maria demanded.

    “Those nails did not grow until about an hour after being born. It freaked most of the doctors out,” Edward responded. “The teeth and eyes were always there, according to the doctors.”

    “Honey, go get a priest. Now!” Maria commanded. Edward simply nodded, and left the room. Maria continued sobbing.
    Hours later, a priest entered the hospital room, with a Holy Bible and a cross. He looked around the room, until he spotted Maria.

    “So you believe your son is possessed… by a demon?” the priest asked. Maria nodded. The priest walked over to the newborn child, and examined its traits. “Oh my… it looks like this may be a demon after all.”

    After some religious chanting, ending with the words “Be gone!”, the priest performed a hand motion to cleanse himself of any demons. The priest then spoke to Maria.

    “Ma’am, this child of yours is not possessed. I cannot perform an exorcism because there is nothing to exorcise. No evil spirits have taken a hold of your child. As for the abnormal attributes… I cannot explain them. They may be simply a gift from God, or something of that sort. In any case, I wish you a good life with your new son,” the priest spoke. He began to leave the room.

    “Wait!” Maria called. “Are you sure you performed the exorcism correctly?”

    “Ma’am, I have been a priest for the past forty years. I do believe I understand what I am doing,” the priest responded.

    “Maybe you missed a part! I don’t know. I just don’t want my son to grow up as an evil little spawn of Satan!” Maria suggested.

    “Good day, ma’am,” the priest concluded the conversation, and left the room.

    “No! Wait! You can’t be done!” Maria shouted. Edward tried to calm Maria down, but Maria became enraged to the point which she dropped the newborn onto the tile. Edward gasped. He bent over to pick Daniel up, but Daniel stood up on his own. Edward’s eyes widened. “What is it, honey?”

    “Dear… Daniel is… walking,” Edward said, amazed. Maria looked over the side of her hospital bed, and saw Daniel moving as well. She put her hand over her mouth, and gasped in amazement. “Only a few hours old, yet he is already walking.”
    “It isn’t possible,” the hospital’s doctor said. “A newborn cannot learn how to walk in just a few hours. Not even the greatest geniuses could do that during their infancy.”

    “Sir, we just showed you our son walking down the hallway. What more evidence can we show you?” Edward argued.

    “Perhaps your child is not your son…? Perhaps the two were switched?” the doctor suggested.

    “No… I watched him all the way from the hospital room. It isn’t possible,” Edward replied.

    “Well… I have no idea what to tell you. This could be a genetic disorder, or it could be simple pure genius… the latter which does not explain the phenotypic abnormalities…” the doctor said. “I conclude this meeting. You may go home now. Your son seems to be growing up fast enough to walk around the house just fine. But your wife still requires some operation before she can return to your home.”

    “Fine,” Edward said. He picked Daniel up, and left the hospital. But instead of turning home, Edward set a trail to his previous workstation. “I won’t allow you to grow up in society like this, son. You’re too different. The human race is horribly discriminate to those who are different from the rest of us. You would get labeled early on, and therefore any chance of a fine career you could have would not be available because you are different. I cannot let that happen to you. I must… I must give you a place to grow up, where the freaks are allowed, and treated equally. I am going to give you a life, son.”

    Edward realized that he was talking to a newborn that had yet to develop language skills, but he felt better after that short speech. After many hours of plowing through the desert, Edward passed through a gate and parked next to a building guarded with security cameras and barbed wire, which was labeled Area 51. He walked in, with Daniel in his arms. He walked over to the area leader’s office. The area leader was a general who had fought in the Vietnam War. Edward put Daniel down, and the area leader and Edward had a chat about Daniel. After Edward explained some things, the area leader approved a cell for Daniel.

    “We’ll watch the boy,” the man told Edward. “But I’m going to have to ask you to leave. For one, you have a wife to look after. Not only that, but you are too old to remain in the military.”

    “What?!” Edward asked, surprised. “I’m forty-six! Are you seriously telling me that I may never see my son again?”

    “That is exactly what I am saying. In the time you served, you did not achieve at least a captain rank, therefore you cannot retain an eternal career in the military after you are forty-five years of age,” the man said. “This child will be useful to us, but you seem to have forgotten the initial reason why you came here to deliver your child to us. If you want my suggestion, forget about this different child. He is in great hands. Now go home to your wife, and if you insist on raising a child, I suggest you have another with her.”

    “But sir---“

    “No buts! Go home, Edward. You are done here,” the man insisted. “That’s an order, soldier!”

    Edward glared into the eyes of the general, and turned away to leave. Once he stepped out of the room, he began to sob. Two military soldiers escorted Edward to the outside of Area 51. Edward had no idea how he was going to explain this to his wife.

    May 1st, 1981

    Area 51

    09:36

    Daniel was walking through the halls of Area 51, supervised by the general and the second-in-command of the area. As he walked down the halls, he passed many empty cells that had never seemed to have been open before.

    “Where are we going to contain Daniel?” the second-in-command asked the area leader.

    “I have no idea. I figured we could put him in the northern wing, but then again… Drakath is there. Could you imagine what a negative influence that thing could have on this child?” the area leader asked.

    “Drakath is intelligent, sir,” the second-in-command said. “Sure, he has some sort of malicious aura just wafting around him, but he has not done anything worth reporting since 1953.”

    “Daniel is only a couple of days old. If we let him close to Drakath, he could develop the same malevolent mentality as Drakath. Then we’d have the same mysterious, rebellious freak with a different appearance. You know what? I think I will just stick Daniel into the eastern wing,” the general decided.

    “All right,” the second-in-command agreed. “But since we took him away from his father, who is going to watch for him? He needs someone to be his metaphorical parent.”

    “Why don’t you do it? You have experience in parenting,” the general offered. The second-in-command was reluctant in his decision, but he agreed.

    “Should I train Daniel to be a fighter, in case we need him?” he asked. The general turned to the second-in-command.

    “Sounds great. We could use another phenomenal soldier on our side. But only when he’s of age,” the general said.

    “Right…” the second in command agreed.

    May 1st, 1981

    Area 51, Northern Wing, Drakath’s cell

    09:39

    Drakath sat patiently on his bed supplied to him in his cell. He noticed a new freak had been admitted to the facility, and he did nothing about it. Soon enough, a military captain walked into Drakath’s cell.

    “What will it be today, officer? Bread and water again?” Drakath asked sarcastically.

    “Shut your fucking mouth,” the captain said. “I’m here to inform you that we have a new ‘freak’ admitted to our facility.”

    “I noticed,” Drakath spoke.

    “Let me finish, asshole,” the captain yelled, irritated. “The area leader told me to tell you to stay the hell away from this new ‘freak’. He is a human with a few inhuman characteristics, but we don’t want your sinister attitude to rub off on the innocent little baby.”

    “Stow him in a different wing. Problem solved,” Drakath said.

    “That’s what we’re doing, smartass,” the captain said, this time in a quieter voice, while maintaining the same serious tone. He shifted to an angry yell immediately after. “We want you to remain out of sight from this child until he’s old enough to have his own morals and values. Do I make myself clear, freak?”

    Drakath smiled, even through his mandibles. “I hope you understand that no matter how isolated you make the two of us from each other, I am going to decipher the child’s personality completely, and he is going to know of me any way you look at the situation.”

    “Yes, but we want to set a negative image of you for the infant,” the captain spoke.

    “Well that isn’t fair,” Drakath said, still smiling. “I am not that terrible, am I?”

    “Your first impressions were not good,” the captain spoke in that quieter voice.

    “Neither were your species’, but I got past that fact and accepted you all as different. Such a feat remains a supposed goal for your race. The ending of segregation fifteen years ago was a start, now I want to see your species learn to accept other sentient species as worthy of your respect,” Drakath challenged.

    “We don’t need to listen to your demands, Drakath,” the captain growled.

    “No, you don’t, but every decision I see your species make causes me to gain respect or lose respect based on my opinion on the subject at hand,” Drakath informed. “And so far, while your species claims to be golden, you continue to hide your ability to admit your mistakes and disguise everything with lame excuses that do not justify anything.”

    “I’m not going to argue with you,” the captain asserted. “And after being stuck here for nearly twenty-eight years, I would think you would know by now that arguing with a military official is like arguing with a brick wall. Your time to make points and contradict our words and orders is when you are placed in court while it is your turn to testify.”

    Drakath continued his creepy smile, and stared into the captain’s eyes with his own pitch-black ones which had a small white dot for a pupil to go with it. The captain turned away, and grunted.

    “Don’t pull that shit on me, Drakath,” the captain started. “I won’t be there long enough to listen.”

    The captain left the room and locked the cell door, and Drakath shifted from a smile to a frown.

    How can I get the message across when the human race does not even listen? They assume, and then they stick with that belief unless they are disproven. If they are of high authority, it becomes impossible to convince them unless you can demonstrate your evidence visually in some way. In general, they do not accept anything other than common belief, and that is one of their most tragic flaws, Drakath thought. I may actually enjoy seeing the human race die, rather than pity them like I initially thought I would have when the time came.

    Drakath lied back, and folded his front wings, which were attached to his claws, so that he could have more room. He then simply fell asleep.

    November 28th, 2009

    Over the Atlantic Ocean, in an aircraft

    20:58

    Daniel sat on the edge of the helicopter as it flew over the ocean as he held onto the handlebar above him. He was wearing a black jumpsuit, very much resembling that of a ninja. Daniel wore gloves to cover his long and sharp black nails, sunglasses to cover his red eyes, and a mask to cover his mouth and therefore his sharp teeth, plus his scalp, which had hair that only grew down the middle. Daniel despised that look, so he wore the mask to cover his hair. He was exempted from wearing a military costume so he could cover up his abnormalities and be accepted among the other soldiers.

    He was discharged from the military only two days ago, after well over four years of serving the military in Iraq. He worked with the U.S. Marines in the special ops division, which was the group that typically flanked the enemy army while the U.S. Army attacked head-on. Daniel was often commended by his commander for being strong, persistent, quick on his feet, and fast at helping allies in need. He was also known for being a ruthless fighter who killed everyone in his way. He assisted in some large battles of the war on terrorism. But now, he was on his way home, to Area 51.

    “Daniel,” spoke Daniel’s commander, who was referred to by everyone in the squadron as “Zombie Eye” for having a nasty wound on his right eye that made the affected area look like it belonged to a zombie. “I just want to say that all the Marines and I… we’re going to miss you and your killer tactics.”

    “I wish I could stay as well,” Daniel replied, without looking at Zombie Eye. “The military is my home. I would think I would be fighting in wars until the wars are over, but apparently I was wrong on that count.”

    “That doesn’t mean you’re not going to have a job in the military after this, though, Daniel. General Smith back at Area 51 said that he had a perfect job for you that would help out around the facility. He didn’t tell me what it is, but he did say it suits you well,” Zombie Eye said. Daniel did not reply.

    “Do you think General Smith will allow me to see the gargoyle now?” Daniel wondered.

    “You mean Drakath? I don’t have any idea. I’d imagine so, considering you are mature now, and you already have your set of morals to follow,” Zombie Eye answered.

    “If by morals, you mean kill everything in sight that is of the enemy faction, then you are correct,” Daniel spoke.

    “That isn’t true. You have more morals than that,” Zombie Eye asserted. Daniel did not argue, because he was taught not to argue with the higher authority. He simply stared off into the horizon. Zombie Eye patted Daniel on the back, and then sat down in his seat.

    A few hours later, the helicopter landed next to Area 51, and Daniel hopped off. He said his final farewells to Zombie Eye, and walked into the facility. A scientist welcomed Daniel.

    “Welcome home, Mr. Dorple!” the scientist said. Daniel turned his head to face the scientist, and nodded to greet the man. Shortly after, as Daniel walked down a hallway, a man with graying hair approached Daniel.

    “Hello, son,” the man said.

    “You’re not my father,” Daniel pointed out. Daniel tended to be a tad literal at most times.

    “No, I’m not. But I am your guardian,” the man began, “and I am your boss.”

    “Yeah, General Smith said he had the perfect job for me. What is it?” Daniel asked.

    “Oh yes. Let me lead you to where you’ll be working,” the man spoke. He led Daniel down a network of hallways, which they engaged in a casual conversation.

    “So how was working on the Marines for you?” the man asked. Daniel sighed.

    “It was great,” Daniel responded. “I really wish I could stay longer. I have no idea why I was discharged after only four years.”

    “It’s because we need you here, Daniel,” the man said.

    “What do you mean by that?” Daniel asked.

    “It’s a part of your new job.”

    Daniel reminded himself of a question he wanted to ask. “Will I get to meet Drakath?”

    The man stopped and paused. “Funny you should mention that,” he said. “Follow me. We are almost there.”

    Daniel was led into a room that was dimly lit, which then was lit up. Daniel could already see General Smith in the room before the lights were turned back on, due to his enhanced vision.

    “Welcome back, Daniel,” General Smith greeted. Daniel greeted Smith with a handshake, which Smith was reluctant to accept for a few seconds, afraid of being cut by Daniel’s grotesque fingernails. “Have you ever considered cutting those, son?”

    “It was considered before, but they grew back almost immediately after,” he answered.

    “Right,” Smith said.

    “Now, about this new job for me…” Daniel began.

    “You start it by talking with Drakath in the next room over,” Smith interrupted. Daniel looked puzzled.

    “So I meet him, but… I have to beat him up for information?” Daniel wondered rhetorically, noticing the “other room” was an interrogation chamber. “All right.”

    The doors to the interrogation chamber opened, and Daniel stepped in. “At last… I finally meet you in your self-conscious form,” Drakath remarked in greeting. Daniel nodded, looking confused, and sat down.

    “Hello… I’m Daniel---“

    “I know who you are. And you know who I am. There is no need for an introduction,” Drakath interrupted.

    “Okay,” Daniel said. He was about to ask a question, but Drakath began before him.

    “You are not here to beat me up for answers, Daniel. You are here because I requested it,” Drakath spoke.

    “You?” Daniel asked. “I thought you had little power here.”

    “I’m afraid you overestimate me with that comment, Daniel. Here, in this universe, I am but a prisoner, yet I am not lost, and I have not done anything wrong. I am kept here for no known reason. The military attempt an excuse by telling me that I would spark controversy or rumors, but they could just as easily deliver me to the Shikron Gate and let me go to my home in Rahtouri. Yet when I bring that up, I simply get torn a new one by a nearby military official that has little to do with my conversation at hand. Say, Daniel, would you mind telling these nice men to set me free?” Drakath asked. Daniel narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses, knowing the question was rhetorical. “Allow me to answer that for you. No, you will not. Why? Because these nice men kept you away from me, and they raised you how they wanted you to be. Don’t you understand? If they kept you in my cell, I would raise you, and while you would be under containment by the military… you would be a freer man than you are today.”

    “What the hell are you getting at?” Daniel demanded. “All I am getting from this is some rambling given by a monster who was here for fifty-something years. I am supposed to get information out of you.”

    “They approved of this interrogation because they knew I knew you well, despite our isolation. I would answer you with the truth, and nothing but the truth. So, if you have questions, fire at me. But I suggest the men behind the safety glass get the recording tapes ready,” Drakath spoke.

    “All right…” Daniel said. “How about I ask the most famous question about you: how old are you actually?”

    “Me? I am… forty years old,” Drakath answered.

    “That’s a lie!” Daniel yelled. By now, he knew he would not get along with Drakath, despite his eagerness to meet the creature.

    “It is?” Drakath began. “Last time I checked, I was but forty years old.”

    “You were admitted to this facility in… what year?” Daniel asked.

    “1953,” Drakath replied. “And even then, I remember being only forty years old.”

    “Is this about your stupid rant about how nothing ages in your universe?” Daniel demanded.

    “No,” Drakath said. “I count my age as the years pass.”

    “Then how can you be forty years old when you were admitted to Area 51 in 1953, roughly fifty-six years ago, with the additional claims that you visited Earth in 1842 and 1736? If nothing ages in your universe, surely you have to still age in this one,” Daniel explained.

    “Incorrect,” Drakath responded. “The laws of universiology state that I only must follow the laws of physics which characterize my universe of birth.”

    “What the hell is ‘universiology’? That isn’t even a real science,” Daniel spoke.

    “Sure it is,” Drakath retorted. “It is the study of different universes and their interactions with one another. One of the laws of the science itself is that every universe has its own predefined set of scripts and codes that determine its respective laws of physics. In Rahtouri, nothing ages beyond maturity, whereas in this universe, age sports some gradually terrifying side-effects.”

    “If it’s a real science, then why aren’t we studying it?” Daniel hissed.

    “Because the human species has yet to understand that sentience does not exist anywhere else in this particular universe, thus rendering all attempts at justifying the act of astrological biology worthless. Rather, sentience exists beyond the borders of the reality that this universe boasts. In other words, interdimensional travel is the key element to universiology, but you humans are too occupied with spending funds on interplanetary travel, when you will only find yourself disappointed when you come back with nothing,” Drakath explained.

    “How can you prove that?” Daniel challenged.

    “Because all attempts at setting up life in a new area have led to the same outcome: bacteria, then protists, then plants, then invertebrates, then fish, then amphibians, then reptiles, then dinosaurs, then another mass extinction, then birds, then mammals, then, and only then, the appearance of the first sentient life,” Drakath said. “It has been tested numerous times by countless species.”

    “So you’re saying there are a number of humans in this ‘Rahtouri’? Was it not you who also said that Rahtouri eats humans on contact, and replaces them with random monsters?” Daniel asked.

    “Yes, that was me,” Drakath admitted. “But I never said that humans lived in Rahtouri.”

    “Okay, make up your fucking mind, you damn lizard,” Daniel swore. “You contradict yourself more times than a run-of-the-mill thriller with a shitty plot.”

    “But my contradictions are justifiable,” Drakath claimed. “The human species was created, not born. Someone generous came through Africa about 200,000 years ago and built your species from scratch. Not only is this act illegal, but it creates an entirely new chain for life to adapt to. Creatures that were created will never appear in the evolutionary line of life ever again; rather, their descendants will reign ruler. The last time a species was successfully created, it wiped out all sentience within the invertebrate phylums and forced all spineless monsters into coexistent stupidity, which all they could do is live alongside us with little purpose other than to fulfill their instinct.”

    “Okay, just stop right there,” Daniel stopped Drakath. “We need to move on. The topics I am giving you are derailing.”

    Drakath sighed. “Fair enough,” he said. “Continue.”

    “Let’s go back to your claim to being only forty years old,” Daniel suggested. Drakath sighed again.

    “I am but forty years old. If you don’t believe me, carbon date me! ‘Tis what I suggested to the scientists in this exact room fifty-six years ago, but the suggestion was never carried out because the process was only in its infancy. It was never considered after that,” Drakath explained. Daniel looked down, then back at Drakath. “I can see your eyes through your sunglasses, you know. I can tell what you are thinking.”

    “Then what am I thinking?” Daniel said.

    “I refuse to fall for that one again, Daniel. If I attempt to convey what you are thinking out loud right now, you would simply change your thoughts and label my analysis as incorrect. That’s what all you humans do,” Drakath spat. “Because you never enjoy being wrong, yet you find a thrill in proving others wrong.”

    “Try me,” Daniel challenged. Drakath smiled.

    “All right. As of now, you are thinking about how much of an insane lunatic I am, and how you want to lock me up and never let me out,” Drakath answered. Daniel frowned beneath his mask, but said nothing. “Am I right?”

    “Yes,” Daniel reluctantly admitted.

    “Good. Now remove your sunglasses, Daniel. We are in Area 51, freaks welcome,” Drakath imposed. “It’s not like me, a monster myself, would judge you by your looks, would I?”

    Daniel took off his sunglasses, revealing his crimson red eyes. Simply looking into his eyes would tell you that he was not happy. “What the hell am I?” Daniel asked, switching to a random yet plausible subject. “What am I that cannot be socially accepted?”

    Drakath smiled, and let out a brief, sinister chuckle. “I was hoping you would ask me that at some point,” Drakath said. “I’ll give you a set of hints, and then I’ll let you utilize your mystery-solving capabilities and put them to the test. Hint one: think about your abnormal attributes. Crimson eyes, long and black nails, hair that can only grow down the middle of your scalp, and sharp teeth. What could those also be applicable for?”

    Daniel gave it some thought, but could not think of any being with the same abnormal attributes. “I have no idea.”

    “Alright,” Drakath said. “Hint two: think of your other physical abnormalities that do not attribute to your phenotype. They say you can run faster than any other human being recorded, yet you can stop yourself abruptly without tripping. You are proven to have enhanced vision with a slight ability to see infrared rays during the nighttime. You are a proven super-taster, your hearing is exceptional, and your perceptive capabilities are top-notch. Not only that, but despite being directly raised within this hellhole, you managed to develop a medium of intelligence that can only be found in geniuses. Is the image a tad clearer?”

    Daniel thought about it again. He had a picture being painted in his mind; he knew the answer, but it was locked away into the bitter hellish depths of his subconscious. “Give me another hint.”

    “This is your final hint, because I am certain you will know what I am speaking of after hearing this. Think of the animals that appeared in the feature film Jurassic Park. Now think of one that fits the bill in favor of all the hints I gave you,” Drakath suggested. Daniel knew exactly what Drakath spoke of then. He spat the answer out.

    “Velociraptors?” Daniel asked. “Are you saying that I am half… half velociraptor or something?”

    Drakath’s sinister grin grew larger, and he nodded. “Correct.”

    “How is that possible? Neither of my parents did a velociraptor,” Daniel claimed. “Primarily, because, you know, the damned creatures are extinct.”

    “Neither of your parents had to. Your abnormalities were not caused by means of genetics, rather, by means of spiritualism,” Drakath explained. “This may sound ridiculous, Daniel, but you are the heir to the throne of King Raptorianos, the king of all physical motion and gravity, as well as the king of the velociraptor species.”

    Daniel put his hand to his face. “You know what, you’re right,” Daniel said quietly. “This is fucking ridiculous!” he said in an angered tone that rose in volume. “How in the name of hell can I of all people be the heir to some king I’ve never even heard of?”

    “Raptorianos chose you, you of all people,” Drakath explained. “Sixty-five million years ago, King Raptorianos lived in prosperity in Rahtouri along with the other four elemental kings, up until his brutal murder which coincidentally brought an end to the velociraptor species, which was also at the time of the mass dinosaur extinction in this universe. With no one of his kind there to take his throne, Raptorianos had to inject his spirit into the fetus of an individual who belongs to another species. And he chose you.”

    “But why me?” Daniel wondered.

    “Must there be a reason? It is likely that he chose a human being at random, and you won the lottery,” Drakath said.

    “Fine,” Daniel ended the questions on that subject. “How the hell did you know all of that stuff about me?”

    Drakath grinned again. “Irrelevant,” he said. Daniel sighed.

    “All right, I am done here,” Daniel concluded. “I don’t even know why I was supposed to talk to you, and what I was supposed to say. You are far too confusing to get along well with.”

    “Why thank you for the fine compliment,” Drakath said. Daniel did not say a word as he got up and left the interrogation chamber.

    “What the hell is my new job again?” Daniel asked General Smith, with a hint of anger flowing through his voice.

    “Interdimensional investigator,” General Smith began, “but it looks like you are also a king.”

    “King of what?” Daniel wondered. “All of my ‘people’ are extinct.”

    After a brief moment of silence, Daniel left the room. Daniel’s former parental guardian turned to General Smith.

    “How did Drakath know all about the world outside Area 51, let alone all the details about Daniel?” he asked. General Smith sighed.

    “We’ve caught him out of his cell, searching through top secret military files,” Smith said.

    “Did you punish him?” the old man asked.

    “Nah,” Smith replied. “After all, he’s locked up here for good, so we have no worries about nationwide controversy stories.”

    “Drakath has proven capable of escaping all of our defenses before,” the old man pointed out.

    “I know,” Smith responded. “But considering he was here since 1953, if he wanted to get out of here, wouldn’t he have done it already?”

    Author's Notes

    None.
    Fetilĺse sge jütěkxěyalä çät kijütěkxěyaläyé.
    I've arrived at the conclusion that jumping to conclusions is highly inconclusive.
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  3. #3
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    Chapter Three

    August 2nd, 1953

    Anti Capitol, Rahtouri

    08:47

    It was quiet and peaceful in the high tower of the Anti Capitol, the utopia in Rahtouri housing most of the Anti Council. The buildings were made of bricks that were painted a dark purple, and they had smooth walls that would curve at their bases. In the throne room of the Anti Capitol, a pitch black-skinned man who had bright yellow eyes sat on the throne with a bored expression on his face. He held his head up with his hand, while he rested that same arm on the arm of the throne. The man sighed.

    SHREEOK! A loud sound that resembled that of a blade scraping on metal echoed throughout the room. The man flinched, and then roared aloud in frustration.

    “Ahkkarhad!” the man called, pounding his fists on the arms of the throne. “I told you to simply call for my name in the echometer*, not to play a disturbing sound through it!”

    *A device which utilizes echoes to create a medieval-era equivalent to the common intercom. The echoes can be concealed in channels throughout the air, so they remain private until they reach the intended destination. Developed by Scaladius the Inventor.

    “I apologize, Brutus,” the echoing voice called. It was a dull, monotonous, almost robotic voice. “I jest. I do not apologize, nor do I forgive you.”

    “What do you mean?” the dark man questioned. “Are you suggesting that I have done something wrong?”

    “Not you directly,” the dull voice replied. “But one of your men has assassinated one of mine.”

    “What?” the man said. “Whom?”

    “I know not his name, but I know that he is a gargoyle,” Ahkkarhad spat. Brutus gained an enraged look on his face.

    “Where did this happen?” he yelled. “I will call for an assassination on his favor!”

    “Six hours ago, on Earth,” Ahkkarhad said. “Next to the Shikron Gate. Brutus, he killed an Omegawarrior.”

    “I will call my forces to Drakath, Ahkkarhad,” Brutus promised. “He shall regret killing one of your men.”

    “See to it that he goes under that impression,” Ahkkarhad demanded. “Or else I will---“

    “I fund your army, Ahkkarhad, not vice versa. You do not command me,” Brutus imposed.

    “I have ways to convince defiant victims,” Ahkkarhad said. With no reply, Brutus shut off the path of the echometer.

    Ahkkarhad has a horrible temper, despite his robotic monotone, Brutus thought. What I want to know, though, is why the hell Drakath is on Earth.

    Brutus set up the echometer to attempt an interuniversal call to Drakath. Brutus waited for minutes attempting to get a response. After several minutes of no results, Brutus redirected the channel to visit the middle of the tower. He shouted into the echometer:

    “Gallitia! Drakath has assassinated an Omegawarrior. You know that this act is intolerable. I need for you to force Drakath into a state of regret,” Brutus commanded. Down in the mid-tower, Gallitia, an eight-foot-tall hominid that sported dark-gray skin that could be given to an elephant, claws, bat-like wings, and a full set of gray armor, sighed deeply in disgust.

    “Damn it, Brutus!” Gallitia swore. “Do you not remember your previous instructions for me? Do you not recall, that I must wait for the sacred heir to the damned king’s throne, which I will then steal the great diamond?”

    “I recall, Gallitia,” Brutus agreed. “But I suggest you suck it up and do what I say, or else you will never reach self-redemption.”

    Gallitia sighed with a hint of irritation. “Would sending an army rather than myself be justifiable?” he asked.

    “Of course,” Brutus replied. “As long as you are doing something else that is of extreme significance.”

    “Aren’t I always?” Gallitia said woefully. Brutus shut the echometer off, and Gallitia pounded his fist on the table which he sat at. A nearby maid asked if Gallitia was all right. Gallitia roared at her, and told her to go away. The maid did so. Gallitia began to ponder what kind of army he should send in search of Drakath. Since this is all in favor of the Omnicoteph, I naturally cannot request assistance from the douche of monotony, Gallitia thought. Perhaps I could send an army of Rahtourian bats?

    Gallitia turned the nearby echometer on, and quickly asked Brutus a question. “Where am I supposed to send the army?” he asked.

    “Send them through the Shikron Gate, and get them to search everywhere within a one hundred mile radius,” Brutus instructed. Gallitia nodded.

    “I shall send the army now,” he replied. Brutus ended the transmission, and Gallitia redirected the echo channel to the bat warehouse. “Listen well, you stupid bats. We have a traitor on our hands. His name is Drakath; I am certain you know who he is. I command you all to exit the Shikron Gate and search the entire area. If you do not come back in a week, I can assume the worst. Now get moving!”

    Gallitia ended the transmission. Down in the bat warehouse, the bats were screeching loudly as they exited the doors and flew into the sky of Rahtouri, which consisted of a constantly changing rainbow spectrum radiating across the edges of the sky. Soon, the bats disappeared, and the operation was carried on.

    August 7th, 1953

    Roswell area, New Mexico

    12:23

    Once the bats exited the Shikron Gate, they split their groups to travel in separate directions to cover more ground in less time. One of the groups was unknowingly heading directly toward Area 51.

    The bats were strange compared to the bats humans typically know. They were twice as large as the average vampire bat, and they sported nasty fangs complete with two sets of teeth. Not to mention, their fur was a gradient mixture of blue and green across the top of their body, while the fur on the underside of their body was a gradient of yellow and purple. They also flew at least twice as fast as an average bat, and they were not blind nor did they mind sunlight. In short, Rahtourian bats were dangerous creatures unless you had firearms equipped, which even then, their sheer numbers per swarm were outrageous enough to overwhelm a building full of people. Plus, their sense of detection could rival that of a velociraptor or a hawk. To avoid detection, however, the bats started by flying high, and keeping a radar sense on the ground beneath them. The party that was heading in the direction of Area 51 spotted an out-of-place building. By instinct, they approached the building from above.

    Drakath sat with a group of military soldiers, who were watching his every move. “May I—“

    “Shut your damn mouth,” a soldier directly next to him spat.

    “Very well then,” Drakath replied, sighing. Soon, every human in the room flinched as they heard loud scraping noises against metal. Soon enough, they faced the ceiling, the suspected source of the noise, and watched as the metal was torn away at. Drakath looked up, and sighed again, only this time much heavier. He shook his head. “Rahtourian bats? I wonder why they came directly here.”

    “Them things are bats?” a soldier with a southern accent asked. By now, the swarm of bats shoved through the roof of the building, and they were heading straight toward Drakath. Drakath responded to this by hopping out of his seat and running out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. Soon, he watched as a war broke out between the military soldiers and the bats. Drakath watched as the bats tore the soldiers to bloody shreds with their nasty claws, as a few other soldiers were shooting at the bats. Often times, a bat would keel over after being soaked with its own blood, spilt from the bullets of the automatic rifles which were wasting clip after clip of ammunition. And even then, there were smart soldiers who left the room through the other door. Drakath turned around, and noticed that he was in a laboratory. Without second thought, Drakath ran over to the containment and busted open a file cabinet. Only, the file cabinet had no files in it; instead, it had a thick, heavy glowstick that radiated an emerald color. Drakath gripped the glowstick with his claws, and then ran over to the door facing into the chamber with all of the bats mauling the soldiers. Drakath broke the glass, and threw the glowstick into the room.

    The glowstick hit the ground, and the bats showed immediate response to stimuli: they all quickly flew off into the blank blue midday sky. Once the bats were all gone, Drakath shoved the door open, and walked into the destroyed room, which was now a bloodbath. He picked up the glowstick.

    “Put that shit down,” a voice said. Drakath turned to face the voice’s source, and saw a dying soldier who had a large, bloody wound on his chest. “It’s uranium.”

    “I know what it is,” Drakath spoke. “That’s how I knew to pick uranium rather than plutonium.”

    “What difference would it make?” the soldier asked. “They’re both deadly.”

    “They are,” Drakath agreed. “But neither of them have radioactive effects on me. You see, uranium is the bane to Rahtourian bats. It forces their sense of instinct and radar to function improperly, thus leading to their utter demise when the effects eventually cause their nervous system to permanently shut down. Plutonium, on the other hand, would enhance their senses, and cause them to think much more cleverly. So, in a way, I saved quite a few asses with a radioactive material.”

    “Not mine,” the soldier said. He began to lose his breath from loss of blood.

    “Well the world does not revolve around you,” Drakath retorted. “You are a victim of sacrifice.”

    Drakath bent down, and picked up a magnum. He stood back up, and pointed the magnum at the soldier’s head. “And being a victim of sacrifice allows you to have one advantage,” Drakath spoke. “I know you are hurting…”

    The soldier held his hand out, as if signaling to Drakath to not shoot. Drakath cocked his head to the side. “You assume I will kill you,” he said, and chuckled. “On the contrary. You know the advantage to being a victim of sacrifice? You are allowed one last choice.” Drakath threw the pistol to the soldier. “Make yours.”

    Drakath walked out of the room, and locked the door.

    He was greeted by a few military officials.

    You aren’t going anywhere,” one of the men said. “Not until you explain to us what the fuck just happened.”

    “We’re calling another interrogation,” another man said.

    “There is no need,” Drakath imposed. “Walk on out there and see for yourselves.”

    A man unlocked the door with a key, and opened the door. The men then entered the room.

    “Holy shit,” one of the officials said, staring at the blood caking the walls, and the dead corpses of both Rahtourian bats and U.S. soldiers. “What the hell are those things?”

    “Rahtourian bats,” Drakath answered, walking up to stand next to the military officials. “Among the most vicious creatures alive.”

    “Why did they come here?” the man asked, still sporting a frightened look on his face.

    “Rahtourian bats are not stupid. But they are obedient; they are notorious for being easy to tame, and easy to make loyal to your command,” Drakath explained. “But this area is far too small to be attacked by a randomly attacking army of the bats of such a large size unless they were commanded to do so. And since I am the only monster from another universe within this facility, it is only natural to assume that someone wants to kill me.”

    “Someone… from your world?” the man asked.

    “Of course. I know not of any human being who has enslaved an army of vicious bats that exist only in Rahtouri,” Drakath assured. “Yet… the only faction I know to want to kill me would be… the Anti Council.”

    “And what is that?”

    “Essentially, the source of corruption in all of Rahtouri. They market themselves as the ‘ultimate government’, yet only a small group of people, typically labeled ‘the Rebels’, know what they are hiding. For one, part of their campaign is to advertise that they are against the Omnicoteph, and that they plan to take the organization down; in truth, they are directly feeding the Omnicoteph essential funds that allow Ahkkarhad to breed more Omegawarriors.”

    “And… how can you prove that?” the man wondered.

    “Simple. I work for the Anti Council; or, I previously did. Apparently, Brutus has called an assassination warrant to get rid of me. Why? I am not sure. But it is very likely that me killing the Omnicoteph Omegawarrior five days ago has something to do with it. Ahkkarhad is directly linked to all of his minions’ minds. As such, he directly knows when an Omegawarrior, or even a Swatter, dies. He also knows how they were killed. It is likely that Ahkkarhad has seen me sending a lead pellet through the valuable minion’s skull, thus he informs Brutus, who is of high authority among the Anti Council, and Brutus decides that I must die, in order to keep Ahkkarhad’s temper under control so Ahkkarhad does not perform an act of mutiny on the Anti Council. And the Omnicoteph are powerful enough by themselves to take over Rahtouri if they wanted to; and, in a sense, they already have. It’s only a matter of time before Ahkkarhad decides he is powerful enough to rise above the law.”

    “I’m sorry I asked,” the man said.

    “And I am sorry that I bore you,” Drakath said. The man sighed.

    “Well,” he said, “if you are in grave danger, we’ll keep you imprisoned especially close.”

    “Fine by me,” Drakath replied. “But do not overprotect me. That is the most hurtful thing you can do. It practically tells me that you think I am weak.”

    “We might have to overprotect you if you are constantly under attack,” the man imposed. “Especially if the swarms they send at you are as big as you claim them to be.”

    “I’ll be fine,” Drakath said. The man decided not to argue any further, so he left the room. Drakath turned to look at the soldier who was dying before. He immediately noticed the bullet wound in the soldier’s skull, with the magnum in his hand. Drakath shook his head, and left the room as well.

    August 7th, 1953

    Anti Capitol, Rahtouri

    Mid-tower

    13:01

    The few bats that remained from the group that attacked Area 51 flew into Gallitia’s chamber. The screeching sounds they made immediately woke Gallitia.

    “Results?” Gallitia demanded. The bats scraped onto the wooden board next to Gallitia an almost unreadable language. Once Gallitia deciphered it, his eyes widened. He ran over, and punched the echometer on, and directed the channel to Brutus. “Brutus… it appears that all contact to Drakath has been lost.”

    “I can understand that,” Brutus replied. “He probably was killed by the humans. Those bastards.”

    Brutus shut the echometer off, and went to sit back down on the throne.

    This shall be a long operation, Brutus thought.

    June 10th, 2012

    Area 51

    23:31

    AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHH!!! YOU DAMNED FOOL! a voice screamed. The voice sounded as if it could belong to a grumpy old man, and it was attributed to a monster that was viewed in blurred vision. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO LEARN! LEARN THE VALUES I TEACH!

    Suddenly, the view switched to the same monster, this time less blurry, and lying down. It was a giant crustacean akin to that of a lobster, but it had nasty claws and teeth to go with its wicked red eyes. Never… never make the… the same mistake I did… the monster whispered. If… if you ever create a species against the code of nature like what I have done… THEN SO HELP ME, I WILL CURSE THAT SPECIES TO ANNIHILATION STRAIGHT FROM MY ROOM IN HELL!

    …The view switched again, this time to a throne room lined with purple jewel walls. In front, you could see two velociraptors conversing something about a war declaration between the Rekuans and the Omnicoteph. Eventually, the velociraptors turned to face the view.

    Your highness, King Raptorianos, the raptor began. What do you say?

    I think, the king began, that we should kill off the Omnicoteph whenever the chance arises. They are a nuisance to the order of Rahtouri, and Riukka is already beginning the first barrage.

    Want to know what I think? a raptor in the background asked. The squire velociraptor turned around to look at the one who had just spoken. I think… you should leave the Omnicoteph be. They are but a virus. Allow them to run their course.

    Unfortunately, your word does not matter, King Raptorianos spat at the new velociraptor.

    It does not? the velociraptor asked.

    No, Raptorianos replied simply.

    What if, the raptor began, you had no choice?

    Soon, the velociraptor’s arm grew into a huge lance, and the velociraptor subsequently shoved the lance through the squire velociraptor’s abdomen. The squire began to cough loudly as its blood slowly fell to the floor. Soon, the other raptor removed the lance from the squire, and kicked the squire over. Now, the other velociraptor shared no similar characteristics to a normal velociraptor; rather, it was now a hominid with dark gray skin and heavy armor, with bat-like wings and a lance attached to its right arm.

    I assume you are an assassin, Raptorianos concluded.

    You would assume correct, the assassin replied.

    Who are you? Raptorianos demanded.

    You can call me… Gallitia.

    The assassin walked up to Raptorianos, and gripped him by the neck and lifted him.

    I was assigned to killing you, Gallitia said. Now let’s make sure I get my reward.

    The lance began to travel toward Raptorianos’s skull, but just before it hit, Raptorianos spoke: Azrechtinor kenata… and he was cut off.

    Daniel woke with a quick jolt. He wiped his face with his hands, and yawned as he got out of bed. He opened the doors into the hallways of Area 51, and walked down to enter the lunchroom of the facility. There, he met his brother, Allen Dorple, who was sipping a cup of coffee as he read the newspaper. Allen wore a red desert suit and a mask that hung down, covering his face, with two accurately cut eye slits.

    Allen was not like his brother. He had no known abnormalities besides an unnatural level of common sense that is absent in most people. This particular trait made Allen a fun person to be around. Daniel sat down next to Allen with his breakfast.

    “I had the strangest dream,” Daniel said to Allen. Allen looked up from his newspaper.

    “What happened in it?” he asked.

    “I don’t know,” Daniel replied. “I guess it doesn’t matter; it was just a dream, wasn’t it?”

    “Well, there could be some sort of connection to something that happened or will happen in your life,” Allen said. “Did the dream make sense?”

    “Hardly,” Daniel responded. “First, I saw this lobster thing that spoke in English. It had a slight British accent to it, and it said something about cursing a species from its own room in hell. Then, I saw a throne room, through the respective king’s eyes. Apparently, it was Raptorianos’s throne room. I saw Raptorianos almost get assassinated.”

    “Hm…” Allen thought, looking at his newspaper. He took a sip of his coffee, and put the cup down. He then turned the page in his newspaper over. “Never mind, then.”

    “I thought so,” Daniel spoke. Daniel met his brother in an entirely freak accident two years earlier; apparently, after Daniel was given to Area 51 in 1981, a few years after, his biological parents had another child, named Allen. Through this, Daniel also learned that his father was murdered in 1993, while his mother died of breast cancer roughly a decade later. As harsh as it may seem, Daniel did not grieve over his parents’ deaths, primarily because they were not there for him when he would need them most. Daniel took a bite out of one of his bacon strips.

    “So how about that Drakath guy,” Allen said. “What’s he like?”

    “A real pain in the ass,” Daniel replied acidly. “He’s really confusing; he’s a douche, yet he isn’t much of one. He’s all mysterious and shit.”

    “Could I meet him?” Allen asked, still gazing at his newspaper.

    “Sure, I guess you could,” Daniel answered. “But… I think you’d regret the decision when you come out of the room. The guy can’t make up his mind. He’s like one gigantic paradox.”

    “Hm… sounds like a nice guy,” Allen remarked facetiously.

    “Yeah… right,” Daniel responded.

    Author's Notes

    This chapter was actually finished a few days ago, but I'm only posting it now. I'm about to post the fourth chapter, which I actually finishted today. So don't assume that I'm just pumping out chapters, and not taking my time.
    Fetilĺse sge jütěkxěyalä çät kijütěkxěyaläyé.
    I've arrived at the conclusion that jumping to conclusions is highly inconclusive.
    deviantART | last.fm | Pogeymanz
    5 years at SPPf.
    I'm Stewart Pidd, the King of Sofas!

  4. #4
    Join Date
    May 2008
    Location
    Drinking v8...NO
    Posts
    81

    Default

    OMG
    PEOPLE NEED TO BE READIN THIS!!!!
    Its EXCELLENT!
    And we finally get to observe some of whats going on in Rahtouri!

    ... The pitch black skinned dude with yellow eyes though.....
    Guess what that made me think of lol

    Wow... Zelda chose getting BOPPED by samus over just drinking that v8...lulz
    Please call me Borio on the forums or type in Zyborggian.


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