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Forgotten City [Charred Eden One-shot]

More than just the other worlds of Utopia--the other realities. These are visions into what Utopia could have been, given the opportunity; alternate universes with no correlation, real worlds in chaos, fake worlds in peace.

Forgotten City [Charred Eden One-shot]

Postby Herald_of_Fate on Mon Nov 01, 2010 4:46 pm

The rain falls on the righteous and the damned, my mother used to say...

It's falling in any case. Thick, hard, stinging droplets that are cold enough to make you wish you were dead but hurt just enough to let you know you're alive. The hooded leather duster I'm sporting is barely adequate protection from the rage of the elements. It's as if Heaven itself is voicing its disapproval of the choices I made. Which very well might be the case. The neon lights of this dying metropolis are no comfort, merely reminders of the depravity and filth that led to this grim juncture. Besides myself, the streets are devoid of life, the stench of Death permeating the air so thick you must fight the urge to gag. The fading light of early evening means I've got to go...they hunt by night, like they can smell the primeval fear that makes human beings fear not just the dark but the sharp-clawed, jagged-toothed things it hides.

My name's Tredeus.

I came here, hoping to save who I could. I know all too well what's out there. I helped put it there at the command of a God whose faith in his creations is all but gone. He chose to do this, to unleash His Wrath upon the hapless whole of mankind. Plague, famine...basically all the worst parts of the Bible came to pass in the here and now. And I was there, a Seraphim, one of His front-line soldiers, a Death angel, unsure over the righteousness of our cause. So I did the only thing I could: I fell.

The skittering I hear behind me tells me that even the rats are fleeing from whatever is coming. Never a good sign. The sulfuric acrid odor of the air is just another sign that I'm smack-dab in the middle of a shitstorm waiting to happen. I didn't really want to have to fight my way out of this city; I move quick and quiet, ferrying what few survivors I can to what few safe zones there are left. I pull the sawed-off 12 gauge Mossberg from my battered pack, checking to be sure it's loaded. I've other weapons, but I'm hoping that I won't end up having to resort to them. A feral growl overhead brought me to a halt, my eyes seeking out the source. Not good. The hulking 6 foot shadow perched on the edge of the building across from me was exceedingly hard to make out, its skin nearly as dark as the sky beyond. When it opened its eyes and mouth, though, it was almost impossible to miss. It was a glimpse into a Hell unimagined, so horrific, so awful it'd freeze most people in their tracks. Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. The sounds of claws scarring metal brought me swinging around, only to face two more of the monstrousities perched on top of a crashed minivan. I cocked the shotgun and fired at the closer one, watched it fall in a cacphony of flame and wailing. I spun, seeing a small crowd of them forming behind, like baboons with bad intentions. Self preservation kicked in...I began to run.
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