GuNNhead

It was then that a dimensional rift tore open in the sky, the hue of it turning blood red and angry, as though the universe itself had become in tune with the terrifying nature of the creature that seemed to have slashed a gash through the atmosphere with its strength alone. It was the Horror, Yon-sogorath, one who can bypass Yog-sothoth. It is only through the datastream of my visors that I am able to keep my sanity at the sight of this horrid god, otherwise my conscious mind would be lost to me, fading away in the expanse of insanity. He began to speak through time and space to me.

“For disturbing the sky and its correlated dimensional beings, groundstage has been laid upon us all for an event that is not common to behold…”

Its mere presence was a creeping, pervasive horror that invaded the surrounding area, infecting everything in its wake. These beasts, these godlike creatures are not of this dimension, but they, like many of their ilk, are interwoven into the very fabric of reality, making it unreal, where the horrors may dwell freely within the dark ether between what is and what is not. For me, in this instance, these sights are an all too true reality of rifts over mountaintops, beasts, howling in terror and accompaniment, ancestors. It speaks out to me again, speaks in tongues I somehow intrinsically understand, as though it is communicating through the very fabric of reality.

“The request of this event was made at the behest of the interbeings who dwell in the other dimensions. Those eonic plains of a mystic other-space.”

Its manner of speech and texture of voice were all very impressive, if not a bit periphrastic. I quickly became bored of his recounting of history and listing of all the celestial atrocities I’ve single handedly committed. Remembering loosely something about an eternal punishment of cosmically enhanced dread-beings, I charge my armor, and attack this great old bastard. Translucent and invisible creatures attack me, and slow my ascent. I try to burn past them, but they weigh me down,

[Activate: Gravity Blade]

I slice through the atmosphere, as easy as breathing, flying towards the portal, but as I get closer, my visor starts to crackle. From the portal itself, this Yon-sogorath, he brings them. Not part of this dimension, my gravity cannot affect them here, and they enter my brain, bestowing me with the pleasure of fright, the feeling in your gut of impending death. The fear of death. I feel alive again, and for a brief moment, I cannot move. It is death that drives me now. I let it continue, let it swallow me whole, and I hear his voice, rumbling and shuddering, making me feel as though I will shatter into a million pieces with the frequency of it.

“Your punishment will be death, mortal of power. Torn asunder within outer realms. Your reality is but a mirror for our dimension, and for your rearranging of the cosmos and perturbation of Their chosen domains, those vexed shall dole out such retribution.”

I sigh, and return to my planet, crushing the skull of one of the tyrannosaur as I land. I disintegrate its body with a burst of a gravity sphere. Taking off back into the sky, I think about my planet, it’s massive in comparison to others. I decide to head to my craft inside the giant skull, and look it up. Auto-pilot skips right over my entire solar system. I have to search for it by name. It’s marked as Disavowed. A desolate, banned no-fly zone on the Networks systems. Also says it was destroyed by me, and that it also may be my current hideout. I’m known as a destroyer, I can’t really deny it.

It’s become apparent that due to my powers, the planet itself will be in danger of attacks against me. My power, a magnet to destruction. A perfect test to all foolish enough to think they can pass, blinded by power. It is not safe, nor will it be able to outlast me naturally. I must undergo a variance shift. Stop focusing on the unknown aspects, my surroundings, my reality. I must build. This is my planet. I’ll make it worthy of my life, supporting of immortality. For one day, time will end, and I will be the last to experience it.

Until then, I must see to it that my planet, Loameria, the one connection, this mote of dust in the vast cosmos, remains as eternal as I. I return to space, covered in innards, and channel the power of the Gravity Surge, harnessing a nearby sun, and charge it so that it is equal to Loameria’s, and begin to entwine their gravitational pulls, with Loameria acting as a central focus of rotation; perfect weather with two suns. The other planets aid perfectly in setting up an infinity matrix of rotation that is as eternal as I: a constant pushing and pulling, an ebb and flow. So I never need worry about anomalies should I choose to venture out into the vastness of the cosmos once again, I set up one of my own, a force of density to protect this solar system, contain it. It’s all channeled via the gravity surge.

The time I had once been so focused on dissipates. It is of no consequence, and the journey of the celestial bodies becomes but a moment in my mind, but perception is everchanging, and years pass by without my notice. In the end, once it is complete, nothing was of any consequence. Time, I had to take note of, for the evidence that it can only be experienced of in the moment with or without the focus, but not once it has passed into the past. In any case, no longer can crafts enter this space. No attacks can be made without repercussions that I take no part in, only my vast and infinite power, used to repel. Not that the Network would try anything like that again: petitioned by rogues of a lost planet; I wonder how many I made homeless with the destruction of a galaxy, but do not care. Mere passing thoughts. I am above it all– or, at least, believe myself to be.

Life, so flourishing will not be harmed unless I am the one to do it. Not for the sake of life, not to cause no death, but because of its connection to myself. It is all I have, and that is enough to warrant its protection. Time will pass regardless. Everything will happen in time. It is inevitable. This is no reason to hold hatred for the unknown. It is time to enjoy what I do not know. The future. It is time to enjoy what I do know. My power. It is on this planet that I was born, and this planet I find myself. Nobody knows why, it is a pointless question. The real question is how. How will I live? Though I am driven to death, I do not need to embody the darkness of question. I am a being who is positively charged with power. It’s what I always wanted, when I lived. The power to kill everything, destroy the source of my hate. But hate has controlled my life for too long. I will not be frozen by internal conflict while I can inflict external pain, and I can do that beyond all in existence. I kill, it is what I do, it is what I revel in. I am myself, and no one else, and so that is who I will be and take only pleasure from it.

However, for some reason I can feel fear and dread swirling about me, externally, as a chaotic and seething wind…

I observe the wreckage, and wonder. It takes so little to destroy. Craters in flames, blackened, burnt ground and life. All only ancillary. Can my powers be used for anything other than death? I focus, it’s all always been intuitive before. My powers simply respond to thoughts, triggering paths of energy in directions. Can I rebuild life, in the same way my powers were once used, like they were within the time trap? I close my eyes and hold my hands out, projecting my power towards the wreckage, forcing it to flow through my fingertips, feeling my hands heating up from the energy of it. I imagine all the flourishing life I want to bring springing up from the ground, eschewing the metal frames, enveloping them among their tall branches and lush canopy, winding around them as though they are trying to suffocate the steel. When I open my eyes, I see a horror of sharp, condensed stone, a dangerously thorny mess of death. The wreckage hangs open, an omen of death. I make the best of it, and reorganize a few of the pieces. This will have to do.

I continue my small existence without space travel, a punishment for having destroyed the only thing my mortal self once held dear. My fault, this was all my fault. I refuse to let the Gravity Surge indulge in the expanses of the cosmos. Irresponsible, stupid. Everyone I’ve ever known is now dead, and I killed them with my rash decisions and idiocy. I tried my best to avenge their deaths with my power, but it was all my fault in the first place. However, since The Network now has my whereabouts under their surveillance, solitude is now a mission of impossibility. I am trapped under the eyes of reality. Every piece of scum in the universe knows where to go to test their powers. Loameria. Once a bastion for science and goodwill, a staple in The Network’s databases of how a human society has the potential to operate, now destroyed, buried and blanketed by the frightening energy of an anomalous time field, and then finally the known location for one sole inhabitant, The Gravity Surge, the most dangerous being thus far known in the database.

The entire galaxy has practically become a dead zone, civilizations wanting no part of such danger, and yet, somehow, within the darkness that envelops it all, some life persists somehow, or perhaps it would be a bastardization of the word, to refer to creatures and beasts and beings as something like life. Most cannot reflect upon existence. Sometimes I wonder why such beings want to persist at all, in a place so desolate; is it because they simply have no other choice? Do I have any other choice in this universe. Do they all have access to some sort of drive I never had in this space continuum where all too often I am a prisoner to the swell of the continual marching onward of time? Contemplation to be saved for another day; in my ruminations I’ve unconsciously ascended beyond the ionosphere.

I explore the wreckage on the ground of my home world. Much of the crafts are still intact. I wonder what I can use them for. I transverse through the atmosphere, and down into one of the expired wrecks. I walk down the blasted metallic hallways, scouring, thinking, planning. I turn down each pathway that leads me to the centre, the main portion left intact. It’s a heavily re-enforced room. Perhaps a secret weapon of some sort. I punch the door in, and enter the large area. A factory storage room of some sort. Sharply angled metal litters the floor, broken cages and crates among them. There’s life in here, survived the crash.

A roar pierces my eardrums, and I’m sideswiped by a large steel tail. I hit a metal box, and see the owner of the tail charge at me. Its large jaws open, intent on taking more than a small chunk out of me. I’m able to place my foot and hand properly to keep the jaw from closing on me. The tyrannosaur’s chromed metallic teeth glint in the factory lights above us. Why in the hell did they have to make it a cyborg. I charge up a gravity sphere, prepared to take its head off, or at least fry its inner circuitry; another set of metallic teeth grab my arm, biting it off. My burning blood removes the flesh from the underlying steel, but it consumes the arm anyway, uncaring and oblivious to pain. I kick the one in front of me, and it tumbles backwards. A third one comes out from the other side, and chomps at me; I jump to avoid it, and stick to the ceiling, within the rafters. Missiles and lasers chase me, scorching the ceiling, exploding beside me, throwing me back to the ground, and once again they’re on the attack, charging towards me. I control the gravity of two crates on either side of the charging meshes of monster and machine. They explode in a ball of fire; blood and oil mixing, coming from the narrow space left. The sounds of gurgling and whirring can be heard over the fire. The third makes it around the barrier, hunger visible in its glowing robotic eyes.

[Activate: Gravity Sphere]

The blast launches into the tyrannosaur, but it powers through it, skinless and meatless afterwards, never slowing.

[Activate: Gravity Blade]

As it rushes at me, I slide underneath it, cutting its entire body in half. The two halves skid across the floor. I fly upwards, and smash through the ceiling. I know there are a few more of these storage containers still intact. I can’t tell how many of those things are in them all, however… Over the next short while, I gather up the intact portions of the ships containing these storage cells, creating a graveyard deep within one of the rain forest jungles of my world. With that, I set the mergers of machine and flesh free. 15 of them in total were left. I observe them from a distance. Without me, their target within range, they act normally. Milling about, roaming in their new environment. I can kill them another time.

“I demand answers.”
“You have been given your warning, and we were met with violence. You are a danger to everything that exists.”
“I am everything that exists.”
“Stand down, you are to be tried for your crimes against Ousniss, and the entire multiversity. Your loose ties with one of the former lead explorationists of The Network hold no ground. The Network has sanctioned this trial, and, if no trial is to be had, the sentence is death, for you are known guilty.”
“I cannot die, and no prison could hold me. Do not try to stop me, or you will be met with the same death that has befallen all others who crossed my path.”
“Now you listen here, nobody! I am Admiral Nomton Q. Linsote of Ousniss military! You are being charged with the destruction of the planet Ousniss, as well as Protectrobot, guardian of Ousniss’ entire home galaxy!”
“Hmm. This is starting to sound familiar…Oh! That giant robot I tossed into a giant bunker full of missiles! That was a good day for me.”
“Well it wasn’t for the people you killed, especially after Protectrobot stopped the invaders searching for those very missiles and resources you destroyed.”
“I really don’t think you are the one to be able to judge that. Besides, I received a distress beacon, and was responding to it.”
“It does not matter what transmission you intercepted, what’s done is done. Answer for your crimes, or die.”
“It was a mistake. I cannot help that I am driven to death. Forgive me, or perish.”
“No. The sentence is death if not imprisonment.”
“I plan on staying on my planet for the time being.’
“That’s simply not good enough.”
“Very well. I wish you the best, if you believe in an afterlife.”

[Activate: Gravity Blade]

I slice into everyone on the control deck in a matter of seconds.
“Network. I only mean the best. Death is what I do. Send more after me, and there will only be more death, and that you will be responsible for.” My message is heard.

[Activate: Quantum Destroyer]

From within the confines of the craft, I fire through half the armada. Flying out into space, I kick the second and last in the leading three command ships. It spins off into the flanks behind it, exploding each of them, and, in turn, itself exploding. I tear into the hulls of the smaller remaining starfighters, pulling out the people inside, exposing them to the death of space. Some of them, I expose their intestines in conjunction with the vacuum. The way they freeze in a different way each time is a thing of beauty. I remember this each and every time I rip into their abdomens, dragging them by their entrails out, occasionally tossing their bodies at other crafts, to see the splatter upon the solar shields, and the faces of those soon to be dead inside. I throw gravity spheres at the final few, and they shower me with sparks and light. The lost lives inside mean nothing.

Surrounded by death, I am myself once more.