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Cain · **08-13-2015, 08:45 AM**

War is a fickle mistress. One moment you are at the top of that heap killing your enemies and the next moment you are at the bottom of the heap. In this case you're at the bottom of the heap with monkey shit in your mouth.

Heh.

Why do I laugh? I guess because I've hit the lowest point in my career. There was a time when even I believed I was the brightest shining star in a universe of stars. Sebastian Duke saw fit to face me.

Morbid Angel, Frodo , its a long list really. Soon I was reduced to openers though. Fighting men like Lucifer Fyre. Men like Sacrelidge. I couldn't figure out what I'd done. Was it the supernatural nature of my persona? Couldn't be. Right? I was born this way.

The art of war is in my blood. But I'd forgotten that for so long. I looked at men like Vinnie Lane and Mister F'n Dominance with envy of one thing they had. Something I never had.

Championships. Gold. Fame.

But when I search this black soul of mine I find that fame and gold are fickle mistresses. Sure it feels good, it's human nature to want what someone else has. But this is not my nature. I am no longer a human. I am no longer that man you all read about in the bible.

I am a monster. A cruel warrior who delights seeing the fear in the eyes of his opponents as he destroys them body and soul. I relish hearing their screams of agony but the best feeling, almost orgasmic, is the feeling of standing atop their ravaged corpse with my blood stained hands raised in the air.

Fists. Not hands, but fists.

The path of a warrior is a hard road to walk. My last showing was less than impressive but would I be a true warrior if I just gave up? That would make me a bitch, like those before me who allowed one shortcoming let them give up on their purpose.

I can't do that.

My focus is razor sharp like the nails protruding from these murderous hands of mine.

He looks down at his hands, long black hair still covering his face.

My story hasn't ended.

These hands tell the story of a man who has literally sent so many souls to hell the devil himself offered my frequent flyer miles. Many don't get what I am. They don't comprehend because Iyself haven't lived up to my full potential. It's my fault.

He shakes his head, black tendrils swinging in front of his face.

NOT ANYMORE.

-Static-

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode The Way Of The Dark Warrior
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