06-11-2014, 06:39 PM
Everyone has their opinions of me. Some call me a murdeeous villain. Some call me a flash in the pan. Some voted me, and I do not know why, the Superstar of the Month for May. I leaned back against the lockers after Warfare, having fought a hard fought battle against Eli James. A former owner no doubt. I couldn't believe (Result Redactedm Not Available yet.).Though now, it was time to move on. Like a bad relationship ending. Move ahead, make my name bigger. I felt eyes watching me from behind a locker and looked up. A little boy, no more than twelve, stood there and watched me. I looked back at him.
"I can see you, kid. Come on out."
He stepped out from behind the lockers, shivering in fear. He was really skin and bone, but did I care? Fuck no. I addressed him sharply.
"You know that you're not supposed to be back here, right?"
"Well..."
The weak little bastard shuffled his feet. One thing about me is that I do not murder anyone under the age of fifteen. Oh sure, I talked that one kid into killing his sister, but that was to prove a point.
"Where are your parents? I am not a fucking babysitter.".
He couldn't bring himself to speak. Looking him over, I saw that he was wearing my "Demon Prince" t-shirt. Nice. I smirked.
"At least you have taste. I half expected you to come in here wearing a Peter Gilmour t-shirt. Fucking Gilmour. I hate clones. Especially illiterate clones who cannot spell Cain."
The little boy snickered.
"Yeah really! He mistook you for that
in that other place whose brother burned him!"
I rolled my eyes.
"Fuckin' A kid, Peter is the . I mean does he even know WHO I am? Fucking dumbass. Do I look burned to you? Like some overgrown Freddy Kruger slash Michael Myers wannabe?"
"Hell no!"
"Hey, watch your fucking mouth!"
The child scurried underneath the bench and whimpered as I yelled thunderously at him. I felt his eyes...dark brown, almost obsidian like mine, staring at me.
"Only grown ups should use foul language, son. Just remember that. Now, back to my question. Where are your parents? Better yet, what is your name?"
"I'm sorry, Mister Cain..." he apologized timidly. "...my name is Abel and my mom and dad are famous stars. Well, my dad is, my mom is just some whore he raped."
Honestly, hearing the kid be so vulgar ellicited a growl from deep within the furnace of my soul. Almost like it struck a nerve with me, though I couldn't understand why. I held an ice pack on my knee. Though I heal quick, I still get sore like mortals. Especoally after a hellacious battle like the one I had with Eli James. I just sighed a bit, baring my sharpened canines.
"Are you okay, Mister Cain?"
"Yeah kid...just got a kink in my knee."
"Mom said you didn't hold injury though."
"How the hell does your mom know? Is she a big fan of mine too?"
"Fuck yes! She fucking worships you!"
"Damn kid, where did you get that mouth?"
Why did this bother me so much? Normally, I could care less what these kods said. But somehow, this one felt different. I watched him as he grinned, a familiar glint of darkness in his eyes. Couldn't put my finger on it.
"My dad taught me. But he lets me do stuff my mom won't. Like for example, he encourages me to do bad stuff. Like...toilet papering the neighbor's yard."
He snickered.
"I did something really bad today..."
"What could you have possibly done? You're fucking twelve!"
"I killed my brother. Because dad always liked him better. Heck, he even gave him his name."
Hrm. Coincidence? I tilted my head, curious.
"And that name is, Abel?"
I really should have known, but apparently I was so exhausted that I didn't realize. He smirked.
I felt a set of small hands as they rubbing across my chest. And I awakened to the sight of Miako, who laid next to me in her favorite black nightie. We sat up and she wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back comfortingly.
"Are you okay, honey?"
She would be dead right now if she'd called me that in front of "the help".
"I...uh...yeah. Just had a strange dream is all. Nothing to worry about, Miako."
A sigh escaped her pinkish lips.
"Are you sure? You kept tossing and turning, Cain. Like you were having a nightmare or something."
I managed to scoff at this accusation.
"Warriors do not gave nightmares, Miako! We fear nothing!"
She shrugged, and we laid back down. I slid a huge arm around my little trophy wife and held her, staring out my large window at the moon. What was this crazy dream? What was it's meaning? Was it an omen?
"I can see you, kid. Come on out."
He stepped out from behind the lockers, shivering in fear. He was really skin and bone, but did I care? Fuck no. I addressed him sharply.
"You know that you're not supposed to be back here, right?"
"Well..."
The weak little bastard shuffled his feet. One thing about me is that I do not murder anyone under the age of fifteen. Oh sure, I talked that one kid into killing his sister, but that was to prove a point.
"Where are your parents? I am not a fucking babysitter.".
He couldn't bring himself to speak. Looking him over, I saw that he was wearing my "Demon Prince" t-shirt. Nice. I smirked.
"At least you have taste. I half expected you to come in here wearing a Peter Gilmour t-shirt. Fucking Gilmour. I hate clones. Especially illiterate clones who cannot spell Cain."
The little boy snickered.
"Yeah really! He mistook you for that
in that other place whose brother burned him!"I rolled my eyes.
"Fuckin' A kid, Peter is the
. I mean does he even know WHO I am? Fucking dumbass. Do I look burned to you? Like some overgrown Freddy Kruger slash Michael Myers wannabe?""Hell no!"
"Hey, watch your fucking mouth!"
The child scurried underneath the bench and whimpered as I yelled thunderously at him. I felt his eyes...dark brown, almost obsidian like mine, staring at me.
"Only grown ups should use foul language, son. Just remember that. Now, back to my question. Where are your parents? Better yet, what is your name?"
"I'm sorry, Mister Cain..." he apologized timidly. "...my name is Abel and my mom and dad are famous stars. Well, my dad is, my mom is just some whore he raped."
Honestly, hearing the kid be so vulgar ellicited a growl from deep within the furnace of my soul. Almost like it struck a nerve with me, though I couldn't understand why. I held an ice pack on my knee. Though I heal quick, I still get sore like mortals. Especoally after a hellacious battle like the one I had with Eli James. I just sighed a bit, baring my sharpened canines.
"Are you okay, Mister Cain?"
"Yeah kid...just got a kink in my knee."
"Mom said you didn't hold injury though."
"How the hell does your mom know? Is she a big fan of mine too?"
"Fuck yes! She fucking worships you!"
"Damn kid, where did you get that mouth?"
Why did this bother me so much? Normally, I could care less what these kods said. But somehow, this one felt different. I watched him as he grinned, a familiar glint of darkness in his eyes. Couldn't put my finger on it.
"My dad taught me. But he lets me do stuff my mom won't. Like for example, he encourages me to do bad stuff. Like...toilet papering the neighbor's yard."
He snickered.
"I did something really bad today..."
"What could you have possibly done? You're fucking twelve!"
"I killed my brother. Because dad always liked him better. Heck, he even gave him his name."
Hrm. Coincidence? I tilted my head, curious.
"And that name is, Abel?"
I really should have known, but apparently I was so exhausted that I didn't realize. He smirked.
"Cain..."
"Cain..."
"Cain..."
"Cain..."
"Cain..."
"Cain..."
"Cain..."
I felt a set of small hands as they rubbing across my chest. And I awakened to the sight of Miako, who laid next to me in her favorite black nightie. We sat up and she wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back comfortingly.
"Are you okay, honey?"
She would be dead right now if she'd called me that in front of "the help".
"I...uh...yeah. Just had a strange dream is all. Nothing to worry about, Miako."
A sigh escaped her pinkish lips.
"Are you sure? You kept tossing and turning, Cain. Like you were having a nightmare or something."
I managed to scoff at this accusation.
"Warriors do not gave nightmares, Miako! We fear nothing!"
She shrugged, and we laid back down. I slid a huge arm around my little trophy wife and held her, staring out my large window at the moon. What was this crazy dream? What was it's meaning? Was it an omen?
To Be Continued