GuNNhead

As I reform, there are two beings sifting through the remains. Shoving the fallen building from myself startles them, and they approach. While they are asking questions, I observe my surroundings better in the daylight. This zone is trash, but in the distance there are large, gleaming towers. I will collapse them as well. I begin to walk towards the garish soon-to-be gravestones of this invading peoples, but am halted by the two beings, now standing in my way. Their heads were about to be crushed before the short one finally make an inquiry that is not insipid. They ask if I have finally come back for my ship. I state that they will tell me where it is.

I stare at them as they speak, and I believe they go on about a multitude of things unrelated to my craft. Their original planet, how it was destroyed, and how they were pursued here. I drift in and out of the beings’ prattle for the whereabouts of my ship, or insight as to why I lacked the ability to wipe them all off the face of my planet as soon as I learned of their presence. They do not know how they made it through my field, only that it now protects them as well as the continual solar system I adjusted to support it.

In their chattering they give their names, and are overly energetic about their ideas of who I am. They know about the Gravity Surge. A threat, the purpose for a sector of a galaxy becoming a no-fly zone. Absent for over three decades. The story of their arrival here must coincide with key times in my battles within the horrific dimension. It was pure random chance, and yet some believed it was my benevolence that granted them passage. I assure them it was not, and again state that they will tell me where my craft is. They believe it to be deep within the city, although it was found a great distance away up the coast when they were children. Hearing enough, I shove past them towards the city center. My left leg collapses from the damage sustained by the machine’s projectiles, and forgetting I had lost my left arm, there is nothing to halt my descent as I slam face-first into the ground.

I allow them to take me back to their dwellings, they have made a salient point that time will allow me to carve a better path of destruction. I regrow my arm and follow them. Somehow my powers are drastically reduced. I am no longer connected to the gravity of the entire universe, confined to just this one solar system, if that. My former home, a torture. A prison of my own design.

This entry was posted on November 7, 2022 at 3:33 am and is filed under Fiction, Gravity Surge, Sci-Fi. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.