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18 September 2010 @ 01:33 am
The Origins of Xombie - Entry 2  
Author: Xombie Khaos







Los Angeles. What a fucking dump. People all across the US screamed and hollered about what a great city it was but all he ever saw it to be was a cesspool of thieves, assholes, sluts, and self-important faggots who's perception of the world didn't extend a single mircobe beyond the end of their collective dicks. This is how he saw the city. This is the city he'd come to call home. This is the city he'd come to use as his hunting ground.

Afghanistan started it. Iraq actually weakened it some. But Las Angeles enraged it. His lust for violence and killing was something he'd tried to cope with, see doctors about, and even do a few drugs to be rid of but nothing helped. Other people sought sex, drugs, alcohol, and partying at clubs. He sought out lives to snuff. It was a pass-time, it was a hobby, with was a way of life. It was no wonder he easily landed a job cleaning up after people. By cleaning up, of course, this meant killing those considered to be the loose ends of very rich people. It was amazing what a well trained and only somewhat armed soldier can do with a small bit of motivation and a blood lust.

Las Angeles was a maze in its alleys sometimes. Chasing people was for amateurs. He quickly saw the need to gain ground above everyone and he took this to a literal meaning. He began to learn to find quicker methods of vertical travel and eventually found himself a regular urban free-runner. It felt great to be able to scale walls and almost fly over roof tops to pursue someone for the kill. There was nothing else like it. Be it with his sniper rifle or his favorite knives he enjoyed every moment in the act of ending someone's life.

All good things come to an end.

The day started off simple enough. He woke up, brushed his teeth, grabbed breakfast at a diner. It was steak and eggs with a stack of pancakes. He topped it off with a large glass of OJ and a mug of coffee. He went back to his house to find a letter stuck in the mail and read it. The job is described seemed simple enough. Kill some poor sod of a woman that had made her way quickly to the top of the LA food chain. Not a problem. He even decided, despite her body guards, to do this with his knives. What was life without challenges? This Suzanna Soiyinka was going to get a knife to the face and maybe he'd keep a trophy. Perhaps those oddly shaped teeth of hers?

Noon hit. He found himself on top of a building looking down at another building. The commercial district was buzzing beneath him as he waited for his target to leave that place. She seemed to be hitting up various blood banks around the city for some odd reason, but it didn't matter to him. He simply waited. He spun his knives in his hands as he waited, his eyes fixated on the doors far below. With the naked eye most people wouldn't have been able to figure out if she'd left or not yet but he was more than used to it. His eyes were far more keen than most, and even his vision tests could vouch to this. He waited... and waited... and waited.

About half an hour after he began to think he should have brought a snack he finally saw her leaving the building. The body guards, two Twilight goths with more straps and fluffy hair than a sheep at a sex club carried a large crate with them. A car rolled up, on cue, to pick them up. He smiled a bit. As he watched them go he knew they'd be heading into traffic. He sheathed his knives and stretched. He had the means to break through the windows and fuck her face with edged goodness so he had no issues with what was to happen.

Or at least that was the idea. He looked down at the others on the streets, everyone pointing up and screaming. He knew he wasn't enough to warrant such attention so he doubted it was him they were afraid of. Looking around he saw nothing but finally looked up, expecting to see another 9/11 in progress. What he saw was far worse. A large comet of some sort of far too close for comfort and the sky rained with a large chunk of it. Smaller parts flew off as well and sprayed down, hitting buildings, cars, and people alike. He looked down at the street as it turned into a tsunami of screaming pedestrians and the cars that ran them over. People were ground under tires and feet alike, turning many of them into minced flesh and blooded muscle mass. He smiled at the carnage, finding the stupidity of the masses to be all too amusing.

Something in the back of his mind, however, was far from amused. He turned back to the comet only to see a chunk of it headed right at him. He looked down the building and sighed as it was far too high for him to survive the landing. He looked around the roof, knowing the impact would still either send him flying off or even collapse the building around him. He scratched his head and looked back up at the hostile piece of space rock and smiled once more. He straightened himself out, throwing his hoodie over his head. He adjusted his jacket and took a deep breath. Upon exhale he began to chuckle. The chuckle grew and grew until he was laughing insanely and right as the chunk was about to hit him he threw himself at it, flicking it off as he challenged its strength.

A large explosion rang from the roof of that building, the whole thing impacted upon and collapsed. The energies in the piece of space rock settled, no longer giving it the sinister life it once had. Instead this energy went to a new purpose, for there had been someone who actually had the gall to challenge it. There was someone who actually took it head on and lost but with all the enjoyment of a child on a playground. This person would be rewarded for his courage or insanity. He would take in the arcane energies of the rock despite the liquefied state he was in. One day he would return a changed man. An Undead man. He'd return as Xombie.