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Mr. Oz · (09-27-2016)

He sat as he sharpened his kamas. Once he had finished, he slid blade against blade, to hear how sharp they were now. Standing up, the kamas were placed upon their place upon his armor. He wasn't sure who to go after right now, his mind clouded on potential victims. For now, he'd make his way to the entrance of his home, and locked back up. He then walked to the gate, looking at the large wall around it and encircling his land. He opened the gate, and it electronically closed behind him before he began to walk along the sidewalk, making his way to the city itself. Then he saw a small group of people dressed... weird. Which is coming from someone like him. He wore his leather armor, his pure black pants, his half-skull mask, and the sclera contacts. They were listening to mix of what seemed like industrial music, but that didn't really label the music right. It wasn't music one can actually dance to, but somehow they made up a dance to go with the music.

He eyed them, and then made his way to one of the people, and they turned to see him, waving him close.

"Yooo! How ya doin' man? Liking the show?"

He looked at the man

"The fuck kind of dancing is this? And you call this music?"

The man squinted at Tank

"Man, you don't have to put our shit down, y'know? It's cool if you have opinions, but you don't have to be a dick."

Ghost Tank looked at him, then moved his hand to the handle of his khopesh

"This music, your spastic and over-repetitive dancing movements are a blight in this world. You can't dance to it, so you make these stupid gestures with hands and feet, and you look like you're having a fucking seizure while doing it."

The man looked at Tank

"Get the fuck out of here, you asshole."

He pushed on Oswald, but he smirked at the weak push, which didn't budge him.

"Death has visited you. And he has put you on his list, Jackson O'Donovan. As with the rest of your friends."

"How the fuck did you know my name?!"

"Like I said."

He smirked at the male

"Death has visited you."

With that Ghost Tank pulled the khopesh from its resting place and in one swing, he decapitated the male.

The people were still in a trance, dancing like idiots. and he began to rush, killing those of the group on the outskirts of the group. His sharpened blade would slice through necks with the same ease that one could achieve with a hot butter through cold butter. These kids were lanky, like twigs put into one body. He would take care of those on the outside, and he moved to stand before the few that were left. As the music died down, he smiled at them, and they noticed that most of their friends were dead.

"What is wrong, little sheep? Have you lost your shepherd? Because if that is the truth... then..."

He slid the khopesh back into place before holding out his right hand. He grinned as his scythe appeared in hand.

"I'll help you find your way."

He rushed forward, spun around three hundred and sixty degrees, swinging the scythe hard, and cleaving the living in half. Bone and cleanly cut flesh showed visibly, and the intestines of the people began to spill out onto the ground as well as half of the kidneys. There was only one left. He dressed in the normal garb for this crowd, black neon colors, a gas mask with spikes. He was frozen in fear the entire time, but after the clique had died he began to run. Ghost Tank watched him, smiling as he brought the butt of the scythe onto concrete, causing click after click to sound out. Even as the thin male fled, he purposefully slammed the shaft down, making the clicks louder even as the further he fled. The man had fled far enough that he began to be able to hide several blocks away, and the clicking had disappeared.

Ghost Tank rolled his shoulders forward, rolled his neck, before tossing his scythe into the air, and it disappeared, not without a few drops of blood dropping down onto his skin. He made his way, following the man's path. Each step deliberate, like a panther, stalking its prey. He viewed each street, each path, coming to a stop to look down alleyways. When it looks like nothing was there, he'd move on. The lanky man was trying to catch his breath, but took off his mask and threw it down while he tried to gather himself, to live on so he could find the sick son of a bitch that killed his friend, and kill him instead. However, in that time, Ghost Tank had been catching up. He'd hear a very soft clunk, the heel of a thick boot, slamming against pavement.He ran a bit further into the alley, and crouched down behind a dumpster. Ghost Tank would stop at the entrance to the alley, and after a good scan of the area, he left.

The cyber goth had seen Tank once more, and it had brought back the very fresh wound within his mind, which brought him back down to tears. Silent sobs, as the salty water spilled from his eyes. Minutes had passed, and he was just about to leave when all of a sudden, the mammoth man dropped down before him, smiling wickedly.

"You forgot this."

He pointed to the man's mask, before sliding out his kamas, grinning wider

"Do you have any last words, child?"

"Fuck you. Hope you go to Hell."

"I bring souls to it, but I never stay. My profession requires I stay up here."

He crouched down as well, placing the kamas with the one in his right hand placing the blade on the man's neck, and the left placed upon the left side of the man's neck

"Enjoy the ride."

He then pulled and sliced the head off so easily and so quickly, that the head didn't even move, it had stayed in place. Ghost Tank smiled and stood up, and began to make his way home.

[hrc=100%]

"Death is upon you, Z. Tomorrow is Warfare. Will you be able to stand up to a challenge of the likes of me? I am feared, I am respected. I am a GOD! I was brought into this world for the sole purpose of destruction. Will you try to face me and fail, Z? Will you be able to contend with me? I am so confident in my win, that you have ensured my dolls be the only one available.

That is what a God does, Z. That is something you will never see when it comes to other people in this federation. They see a challenge, something equal, and they don't do what I am willing to do. The entire roster that has come to be our lumberjacks are not allowed to use any other doll than mine. I will own you, Z. I will reap you, and take you to the Underworld, where you will be judged. For all eternity. Will you eventually climb back up? Sure. Not without your very soul being torn apart, your sanity ravaged. I bring men and women like you to be punished. Punished because that you have doubted and disrespected me. You have dared to face me and decided that I would be an easy prey because of how little I have been forced to defend my championship belt.

Do you know what you've done, child? You have decided that you want your death, and I will gladly give it to you. I will hurt your mortal shell, break it apart, then toss it away like many others I have done in this place. I am the longest fucking reigning Hart champion for no other fucking dare to face me willingly for my championship belt. I am the Hart champion, I will always stay the Hart champion, until the day I take the Universal championship belt straight from Scully's clutches.

You will kneel before me, Z, you will give your God the respect he deserves, understand?

Maybe the screams will lessen for you if you do.

Maybe you will perish quickly, painlessly.

Your screams will be as quiet as a whisper, or as loud as an orchestra. It is your choice, Z, yours alone.

The future soon becomes the present, and you will find yourself naught but a speck to the ungodly powers that are within me. You think the loa will help you in this? You think Samedi will favor you? No.

He will favor his God as you scream. You say you can hear them, but they grow, do they not? Do you not hear the souls of my past catching up to you?
They will cover you much like they cover me. Unlike me, though, Z, when they are coating you with their Siren's song, it would be wise to run.

Or else you will die.

CanYouHearTheScreams?

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