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Mr. Oz · **07-19-2016, 10:55 PM**

A "ghost" village. A place no one cared about, filled with people that no one cared about. He hired the best mercenaries and bounty hunters to gather these poor souls, just so Oswald can bring death and destruction to their lives. Some of them tried to attack him, but they'd meet the kamas cuting open their bodies, some would get deep enough gashes, cutting so deep that when he pulled, he'd pull intestines out of their body, as well as tearing open the stomach, causing the acid to spill out throughout the entire insides of their bodies, coating other organs, causing the acid to begin to eat through the skin, fat and muscle.

He'd put kamas away, and grabbed his khopesh. Wielding this weapon, he'd rush room after room, swinging and cutting down people with ease. Some of people, he'd have to use a bit of muscle, by running towards a wall, kicking off it, and grabbing hold of railings, getting to the second floors. Screams would sound out, which echoed as he got closer to kill them, causing the alerting noise to ring through all of the speakers in the village. As he scrambled room through room, cutting down man, woman and child, none would find solice as they met his destructive blade.

Clearing three small houses, and their second floors, he'd chuckle softly, breathing heavy, which the people in other homes could hear inside their homes, outside of them.

"One, two, Death is coming for you. Three, four, better lock your doors. Five, six, you'll find yourself filled of nicks. Seven, eight, your souls are mine to take. Nine, ten, the Reaping comes again."

He grinned wide, as he stepped out into the outside once more, looking down the small street, full of small two story homes, at least fifteen. His body count?

Thirty-one.

He looked down into the houses across the street, and he placed his sleek black khopesh back across his back, then pull out the scythe.

It would be time to cleanse the world, with blood and tears.

He rushed into the house across the street, and rammed down the door, and as he came in he saw a woman huddled with her baby, held close to her bosom. He thought of Alysia and Fuzen, but quickly, they were put out of mind and he walked over to the woman.

"Death cares not for age. Whether mother or child. You two will be together in Limbo."

He brought the scythe up, and brought it down, the point sliding violently into the woman, and spearing the babe through the belly. He then stepped off to the side, and yanked hard, causing both woman and child to be ripped into halves. The baby's tiny innards spilling out onto the ground, the woman's spinal cord ripped and how he cut into her, she would look like the T-1000, split apart taking shoulder from neck, leaving a massive gaping wound, just like McBride's asshole.

He continued to fight people. Some barely tried, some did their best, but in the end, a heavily armed massive and agile man will cut through a tornado if he has the power, and inside Ghost Tank, he felt like he was an unstoppable force, like nothing could ever stop him, not even McBride's jibes.

It took Oswald nearly three hours, to clear house after house, claiming life after life, until three hundred and thirty-three people. Not exactly the six hundred and sixty-six that Unknown Soldier would try to go for, but for the amount of money he used, for this amount of death was worth it to him.

He stood in the square, and laughed heartily, as blood trickled from his hair and beard, as blood began to dampen the ground before him. He took his scythe, planted it shaft first into the ground and knelt before it.

"Fucking love having all this goddamn money!"

He stood up took the bluetooth, threw it to the ground and then stomped on it, before taking his scythe and making his way to head back home.

At home he'd find Alysia, and he was washed clean of all the blood of the innocents, not a trace of crimson upon him. His sclera contacts still put on, and he smiled to her,

"How was Fuzen today?"

"Good. And how was you trip? Was it uneventful?"

He grinned slyly

"Of course. Business trips are always boring. I'd rather be traveling for pleasure."

He brought her close and gave her a kiss before they would head to their bedroom, both of them in need of some together time.

"See, you'll never touch my wife and child. You might be a part of the IRA, but I have the money. You see, I control so many things, it would make your goddamn head spin. Oil, electric, ammunition, farms, military grade weapons. Motherfucker you ever see how much Americans have put into our military? When you look at the figures, you'll see that a at least thirty-three percent are because I fucking gave them money.

You're a piece of Irish trash. You'll never do anything. You peaked back when you won the X-Treme title. You peaked so early that it's fucking ridiculous. You're like a virgin, getting his dick wet for the first time. You blew your wad so easily.

My leadership skills are going to show very well. I'm going to whip Shade into shape. I'm going to continue to expand and find more talent to bring into the Riders of the Apocalypse. Whether I do it with money, or with persuasion, I will continue to grow my stable. We will dominate the Ex-Dubbayew-Eff. You see, we're still in the infancy stage. We showed our dominance when I fucked practically everyone in a match at the Gauntlet Warfre. We took down every motherfucker in the show. I left Macbeth a shell of his former self. Since I beat him, he has become nothing more than a little bitch.

This is what I'm going to do to you, McBride. I'm going to tear you and Davis a new asshole, and I'm going to break every fucking single piece of you I can. I'm going to crush your fucking skull in, I'm going to twist your legs around until the turn in the opposite direction that they should, and then fucking snap it.

I'm going in for the kill, McBride. Just like I do in my free time when I'm not counting my fortunes. Oh and by the way, I fund some of your IRA buddies. So, don't even think about trying to have someone try to hack my various accounts. Because they will not be happy when the source of their income has been forced into YOUR pockets.

Honestly, you should thank me, McBride.

You should be on your fucking hands and knees, right now, and saying "Thank you, Lord Oswald! Thank you, Ghost Tank! You have let me live a life of blowing the fuck out of things! Without your companies funding us, I would never have become the colossal bitch I am today!"

McBride, you better get over yourself, because you're nothing to me. You bring up Roman, and you think that matters to me? I ate a fucking sandwich because I don't give a fuck, and didn't treat him like a true threat.

I'm only trying with you because of one reason. Two little words, that mean a lot: Hart. Title.

Know what you can smell off of me? It's not weakness. It's the blood and sweat of those I've reaped. Those I've killed and collected the souls of. I am Death Incarnate, and I will end your life if need be. Your life is worthless. I'm a two title champ. I've won the Intercontinental Championship belt, and the Hart title. What have you done since you came? You won the X-Treme title and that lasted how fucking long? Five minutes? You couldn't even hold onto the title for a fucking day. A FUCKING DAY!

How long have I held the Hart Championship? A month and a couple weeks already. I don't think you know how much I do truly care about this championship. I have put it down, compared to the X-Treme Title. But to me, this fucking title right here? Best thing that has ever happened to me. And I will be fucking damned if I let a drunken carbombing irishman take this title away from me.

You and I are going to dance, McBride. We're going to have the best dance in the entire fucking Leap of Faith series. Better than the Universal Championship fight. I am going to completely and utterly rend you limb from limb, and show you the power of a man possessed. Of a man that is fighting for his his title. A man that will hold onto this fucking title until the day he dies.

McBride, take note.

I don't care if you hear the screams, now. I know you're going to scream. I will make sure of that. I will take my time as I torture you as you thought of torturing my family. You are going to beg for me to stop. You are going to cry out as I turn you into a cripple.

An X-Treme Rules match, is in my wheelhouse. Not yours. And I am going to make sure everything available is used to hurt you. I honestly hope there'll be a baseball bat, so I can beat some sense into you about one simple thing. I cannot stress this enough, McBride, and to you too, Jakob Davis:

THIS IS MY TITLE AND YOU FUCKS WILL NEVER FUCKING TEAR THIS FROM MY FUCKING HANDS!

You are in for a world of hurt, McBride! You are in for the most painful ride of your life, Davis!

THE EX-DUBBAYEW-EFF IS MY HOUSE! THIS MATCH IS PART OF MY DOMAIN! AND YOU WILL BOW TO YOUR LORD! YOU WILL BOW TO THE GOD OF DEATH!

Now kneel, you maggots, because the only thing you two are good for, is WORSHIPING MY DICK!"

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