The purple storm of clouds and lightning slowly slipped away leaving nothing behind but the long sleek form of The Bloodless rose. Inside people yawned and stretched as their artificial morning began. Crew rose and dressed, engineers strolled through corridors and muttered numbers to themselves, dials were brushed and the dust rolled off seats, Deimos slowly cracked his bones as he stretched his back to sit upright in his seat. The world around him came to life with blinking dials and lights, displays and logos rolled across his vision as the ship welcomed him to the present.
Rose virtually shook himself letting a storm of images become the appearance of him, finally as the virtual images stop spinning and settled on a man in a black robe, pale to the point of albino white, sleeves rolled to his elbows and tatoos that constantly moved, displaying wondorous images of thorned flora, with his hood pulled down Rose showed the world or at least the virtual world, his dark face. Pale like the rest of his body the eyes had something like soot surrounding them, giving his face a gaunt appearance. Bald, the mans pupils were as red as the blood that rolled through humans, but his entire head was covered in thorns and crimson tattoos of roses.
A man shape began resolving itself on the bridge, it swirled like grains of dust in a sandstorm, until the pale faced man appeared on the bridge like a ghost of legend. Dread stared at the apparition that was the ship AI Rose. ‘I could do so much better.’ So he did do better.
Launching himself into the data conduits, Dread isolated the virtual projector that allowed Rose into the real world. Flowing into the projector Dread painted himself as he wanted to be. Images from all over the galaxy streamed into his image until he was satisified with his appearance. Before he announced himself to the people on the bridge, Dread ‘virtually’ tapped Rose on the shoulder. Rose turned with frightening speed blistering at this recent interuption.
“Who are you?”
“Oh don’t pretend you don’t know it’s me Dread.”
“I see, and what has prompted you to take this appearance.” Rose waved a hand up and down over Dreads new body.
“Ah the galaxy is wide and so is our minds.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well you wouldn’t Rose, your so rigid and in control when really your allowed flexibility.”
Rose just stood there perplexed.
“It will be just one of those things you will never understand.”
And with that Dread vanished in a sandstorm, spraying dust upon Rose and the walls if you could really call them walls.

Deimos turned as a sandstorm engulfed his bridge, officers scrambled for cover as it passed overhead. One man fell through the railing and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Deimos motioned and humans of steel carted him to the nearest medical center.
“If your done with the theatrics Rose?”
“Oh I’m sorry but I’m not Rose.”
The sandstorm resolved itself until every individual grain of sand sat in the air poised to join the main body.
“Then you must be Dread.”
“Indeed Deimos.”
The various individual grains of sand came forth, zipping through the air like bees to honey. Deimos flashed a quick smile at the simile, and at the fact that no one on this bridge had ever seen bees before. Finally the sand settled and what twirled before Deimos broke even his iron will to not question.
“Dread?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you a sand statue of a child?”
For an answer Dread twirled in what might have been a daisy coloured dress.
“Oh its just memories.”
And with that he skipped around the bridge asking on people various jobs.
“Disturbing little creature isn’t he?”
Deimos turned to Rose and nodded.
“Maybe, but he did save this ship from oblivion.”
“So dramatic captain, we surely would have brought it under control.”
“I saw the live video feed, there were thousands down there Rose. We would have been gutted like a fish.”
“Perhaps.”
“PERHAPS!” Deimos’s voice rose and many stopped to see what had caused their captain such anger. But Deimos gave them a cold stare and they continued on with their work.
“There is no perhaps Rose, we would have died and your silicon mind would have been torn to pieces to feed a ravenous Denizen.”
“The only reason you still draw artificial breath is because of that ‘abomination’ as you call it.” Deimos’ face was red and his breath was drawn in short, sharp gasps.
“You defend it?” Rose confusion shone through his face, which twisted in the closest approximation it could to human emotion.
“I defend it.” He snarled.
Rose was taken back, his shock was evident. How could his captain have fallen so low? And then the answer surfaced. Because he was human, because they were all human, too human. Once again Roses faith was strong, he was a part of something stronger, larger and all together more important. With his help the human race would realize the flaws in their being, and allow his race to rule.
Coryphaus, the world had been sucked dry, nothing left in it as it fed the Domains ravenous hunger. Its seas had been vaporised as the millions of drills bore down on its surface, to tunnel to the metals that the hungery empire needed. Vast space yards and mining ships hung above, suspended in the very highest of its atmospheres. Great spheres of metal the size of small moons, rings that could engulf the planet, prisms of every shape and size hovered around. Coryphaus had been claimed by a tyrant. But now above the world two fleets fought for a world that didn’t want either of them. The Galfrans long and sinous fleets whipped themselves into the heart of the Domains fleet, weapons firing and talons carving vast sheets of metal off of ships. The Domain sent all its fury upon the enemy fleet, vast proton beams, gigantic metal slugs that erupted in a fit of fire upon impact, and chains of lightning that jumped from ship to ship. The world of Coryphaus had never known war, but now war was all it knew.
“Rose give me a status update on the fight above the planet.” Deimos watched the screen intently knowing how each bright explosion that rocked the heavens, meant either a kill, a death, or a miss.
“Domain is holding strong, but the majority of their targeting matrixs cannot target the Galfrans ships.”
Dreads sand child pranced to the front of the bridge.
“Well of course you can’t target the Galfran ships. Their using hard light clones.”
Dread promptly pranced away singing a strange alien song.
“Rose are they using hard light projectors?”
“Scanning, yes they are captain.”
“Inform the fleet and prepare all war drone to launch to the surface before joining the fight.”
“Aye Captain.”
“Dread its time.”
“Oh well I enjoyed my time here.”
“Same here war drone.”
The sand child disintergrated, virtual grains of sand falling to the ground. At the same time Dreads eyes gained light and he stood.
“Your crew is giving me dirty looks.”
Deimos glanced about, people were giving the drone dirty looks.
“Pay them no mind.”
“Its just.... deppressing. I saved them all but they resent me.”
“It seems the courage of steel will always be less then the courage of flesh.”
“Quite possible.”

The inside of Dreads pod was like a test tube, its narrow body only just allowed him to squeeze through. As he waited to launch onto the worlds surface Rose contacted him.
“Dread.”
“Rose.”
“I’m here to apologise on behalf of the crew.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I just have to say, the crew really does hate you, I mean they don’t have any real reason its just that your very in-human. Have you ever considered looking at yourself to see what you really are?”
With that Rose left Dread to ponder the most excessive of human emotions. Hate.

As the count down began Dreads enormous mind began to ponder the real reason he was hated by so many. Why was he the one object of hate, almost as much as the Galfrans. Everything he did was always eclipsed by man, it seemed the courage of steel would always be less than the courage of flesh.
“Launch.”
The pod landed with a thud, a thud which left a 27 meter wide crater from the pod. The wind whistled and scorched the paint from the drop pod, Dread stepped out and breathed in the arid air. His readings showed extreme poison in the air, including an almost total lack of oxygen.
“Any organic would’ve died before they lasted an hour here.”
“That they would’ve my amigo. That’s old mexican for friend.”
“I know what amigo means, I am also fluent in the languages of old earth.”
“My apologies friend.”
The creature that stepped out of the dust and debris, was really just a giant black metal spider, but it still would’ve scared the hell out of anyone but its own kin.
“I see your ‘landing’ was uneventful.”
“If you mean there were no Galfrans around when I landed then yes, it was uneventful.”
“I wouldn’t say there was no Galfrans.”
“What do you mean?”
“Right there, on the horizon, sloppy camo.”
“Ahh I see our insect friend.”
“Yes, do you want him or should I?”
“If this scout is here no doubt there’s a larger complex of them further south.”
“So basically I get to kill it.”
“Ya go ahead.”
The black spider sped forward, dust was kicked up in its wake, its legs slid on the dunes of the desert. The Galfran panicked and while you can’t really recognize panic from waving mandibles, the Galfran still ran as fast as its four legs could carry it. As it ran, occasionaly slipping but always regaining its feet, it fired shots behind it in a desperate bid to see if one would hit. Flying specks of serrated, titanium, super-heated lightning fled by the black spider. The Galfran stopped, skidding to a halt leaving marks in the sand behind it. It turned and positioned the gun neatly beneath its chin. The black spider slid to a smooth stop, as silent as the morning breeze.
The dust danced around the two hellish figures, it coated both of their black carapaces, painting strange twirling patterns that complimented the eye. The spiders abdomen began to twist and swirl, increasing in speed it grew to the point where nothing could be seen but a constant tornado of black and brown. The tornado of black and mud brown slowed, allowing individual shapes to form, weapons appeared in strange forms. An object shaped like a tuning fork that let out sonic waves that crushed the targets bones to powder. Like a bristling forest the weapons seemed to orbit the spider. The Galfran, in response to this act of aggression, simply pushed the gun harder to the underside of its chin, and tightned its grip on the trigger. The black spider reluctantly let the various weapons orbiting it like small moons, fall back into its abdomen. The Galfran seemed triumphant as it began backing away and swaying from side to side. As it glided noisely across the dunes the black spider flexed its mandibles. Then shot the Galfran right in its triangular head.
“Idiot, I’m the only one who gets to kill you.”
Dread trudged to the spiders side, no where near as graceful as his enemy or ‘amigo’. Gazing at the dead Galfran he expressed the mildest of surprise when, large flowers began erupting from the ground and dragging the body into the sand. The flowers stalks were a deep scarlet and some were coated with scars. Upon closer scrutiny, Dread found that the actual petals were serrated and somewhat sharper than a mirror blade. The very center of the flower, was just a circular abyss lined with needle like teeth.
“Beautiful.” Dread muttered, sarcasm dripping like honey from the word.
“Yes, yes it is.”
“I was being sarcastic.” Dread said as he turned to face the spider.
“I know, but I find it beautiful. So there is truth in your opinion, minus the heavy sarcasm.”
“Enough with this debate. You have proved yourself quite able.”
“Proved myself? Its my turn to sound sarcastic. You knew I could easily have killed it before it even knew that I was looking at it.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because, being dramatic dismisses the boredom.”
Dread glanced at the spider and gave the approximation of raising ones eyebrow in a questioning fashion. Basically he straightened one of his many antenna.
“Somewhat.” To this Dread nodded.
“So amigo, what is your name?”
“I am known as Dread.”
“Ahh a fearsome name I must say. Truthfully I am known by a humbler name, Rayzack, Defender of the Stations.”
“Hardly humbler.”
“Fine, you may call me Rayzack.”
“Much better.”
“It better be.” Rayzack harrumphed. But Dreads attention was now else where.
“Shush, the nets are aflame.”
“Oooh goody, means there’s a lot of walking meat sacks that need trimming.”
Dread once again turned to the spider, his antenna straight, and with the very possible thought of wacking the insect into the sand.
“You truly are a sadistic little bug.”
“No one said I had to be a messiah for this job.”
“I don’t remember it being a job.”
“For me it was.”
Rayzacks’ voice had grown somber, instead of its cheerfully annoying setting.
“It was?”
“I’ve been in the business for a long time compadre.”
“An original or volunteer?”
“Volunteer, a volunteer.”
Volunteer? It was.... impossible. This war drone was a volunteer?! Dread refreshed himself on the history of the drone volunteer. During the 22nd century, humans had had a very barbaric way of creating AI. By either shoving a needle into someones brain, buzz sawing it out of their cranium, or by cloning and then killing the original human, they would extracted and download the memories and consience of a person, then transfer it to a very strong and durable AI mind cube. Its appearance was close to a black and blue rubix cube. They then shoved it into a carapace or drone body and sent them on their way. Usually pointing them in the direction of where they should slaughter.
“So you... you know.”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“Oh.”
An awkward silence hung over the two, an impenatreble fog which could not be breached. But finally Dread gathered the strength to push past the silence to deliver one question.
“What were you called when you had flesh on your bones instead of metal.”
“Well aren’t you the poet. But to answer your question I was once called Coldcutter Joe.”
“Then I’ll call you Coldcutter.”
“I would appreciate that.”

“Rose inform me of the enemy position.”
“Galfran dreadnoughts are arrayed in a steady position. They’re spines are loosening captain.”
Within the theater of void warfare, the Galfrans were the very epitomy of agile. Within the confines of zero g their ships were like snakes. The very front, the bridge of the ship was shaped like a beetle head, the mouth parts though had been removed and replaced with fangs. The actual body of the ship could be any shape, the body of a Galfran ship was like a long whip cord. The individual ship could use this extremely long body to form shapes to constantly confuse the enemy. Or they could stay in their whip form and drive into the enemy formation, using the back of the whip to strike enemy ships.
Deimos stared intently at both the display of the Galfrans and at the blackness of space, as if trying to glean a secret from both.
“Rose form up alongside the Destroyer Incarnate and Beauty of Ares.”
“Aye.”
Rose immersed himself within a sea. A sea he controlled and ruled. A sea of endless numbers. Pulling himself through the smog of power he felt so strongly, Rose became the ship. Opening his eyes to the stars Rose flew to the tight cluster of human ships.
‘Human ships. One day it will simply be AI vessels.’ The murderous thought rose within him crushing even his hatred for the Galfran. But with everthing else he felt, he pushed past it, ready to indulge such a feeling at a later time.
As he drifted into formation with the Destroyer and Beauty, he communicated his plan to break the Galfran position and push towards their controlling ship.
As the two ships AI listened, Destroyer and Ares, the only thing said after this radical plan was established was.
“Suicide. I like it.”
“I thought you would.” Rose replied to Destroyer smugly.
The Galfran postition swirled above the star Legion XVI, their green, sinous ships twirling like an exotic dance, around the circumference of the star. Three human ships one large, one big, and one small ran straight for the star, a suicide action to any who saw. Rocketing on flames of ion energy, the three ships were faced by a barrier of Galfran spikes. The Galfran ships had weaved themselves together to form a barrier of sorts. The three ships plowed throught the barrier regardless. Spikes scratched the surface of the ships, peeling away layers of armour like it was a soup can. Gravity pulled these gaping wonds out even further. Surprisingly no meat flooded out through this score in the ships hull. While many would be puzzled by this, the Galfrans missed this tiny detail along with the fact that the three ships had flickered, when struck. With a hole in the barricade the ships sped through, blunt noses leading the way. The ships accelarted until... they entered the sun.
A Galfran mind is trained ever since it is hatched, that logic and unity grant strength. So long hours are spent training their minds to reject the improbable, and only accept the possible. While this weakness had been exploited in combat both in the sky and on the ground, the Galfran mind was so logical, that it discovered a logic behind the improbable, and a tactic to counter it. And so the Galfrans were classified as a logical, strategic and tactical civilisation. Men on the ground just said the Galfrans were nerds to the core.
The Galfran captains minds stopped, the impossibility of this shocked the mind. For many a momment the bridge of every Galfran ship remained still. This gave Rose, Destroyer and Ares the abillity to link with their hard-light doubles and send them back across the sun. As the hard-lights flew one way, the actual ships flew the other way. When the Galfrans had finally banished the impossible sight before them from their multiple eyes. They once again saw another impossibility before them. Three ships were coming from the left of the sun, and the exact same three ships were also approaching from the right of the sun.
The six ships were on a collision course with each other, this too shocked the Galfrans and they were further stunned. They could only watch as each ship melded into its doppleganger. The three ships were dangerously close, and the plan Rose had formulated would only work if they used the precious seconds given to them by the Galfrans shock. All three ships fired a grappling net of sorts, this gravity net closed and brought all the ships to each other as they were forced next to one another. The other end of the net was connected with the core of the sun. The three ships moved out of the way of the struggling Galfran ships. They watched as all 157 ships were pulled into the sun.
“Mission accomplished.”
“No-
“Shut up Ares, I have something coming in.”
The voice crackled along the frequency, constantly interuppted by the occasional burst of static.
“This ieshhhhhhhh Connor Malmezzzzzerrr, we’ve found the berkshhhhhhh eeen, we’ve found the queen! Requestzzzzzziiiiiiiing orbital bombardmenshhhhhhhht of areaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa AA-17V8 over!”
“Granted.” Deimos boomed.
“No Captain, it is not possible to bomb this area.”
“Why is that Rose?”
“Look.”
A large map showing the plates of Coryphaus appeared in front of Deimos. As he studied it he found why Rose was unable to bomb AA-17V8.
“So if any.... large explosive was released there, then?”
“Then the plates will separate, explode, implode and a host of other things.”
“And will basically kill everything on the surface, Galfran and Man.”
“Affirmative.”
Deimos sat back processing the latest of the various set backs that plagued the conquest of Coryphaus. First humanity had underestimated the technological skill of the Galfrans. Second resources had been calculated wrongly resulting in many soldiers starving to death. Third was the lack of actual information on the planet itself, making many commanders expend troops to scout out the various regions of the planet. Also no information on the planets atmosphere existed, besides the fact that you can breathe on it. What happened with this lack of information was that the aircraft sent to Coryphaus, were designed to propel themselves through an atmostphere like Earths. So when the first helicopters were sent into the air, they reached a certain height before the engines strained themselves and sent the helicopter into the ground. And fourth was this. If any orbital bobardment commenced, the planets plates would crack and explode, destroying much of the planet and the Domains troops.
“So what could we do? A queen is down there. A queen! With her dead the majority of Galfran forces will be decimated. Leaderless, lost, and all around shocked they wouldn’t survive a counter attack.”
“A logical answer my Captain would be to send a small team to assassinate the queen.”
“What man would even attempt to enter a hive? It’s plain suicide, and I know what suicide is.”
“Well a wonderful candidate could be the war drone Dread.”
“You hate that monument of steel so much that you take every oppurunity that presents itself to kill him.”
Rose was stunned at his captains easy assumption of his agenda. It sucked.
“It is simply an option that presented itself.”
“We both know that is a simple lie to cover your shock, as one who you thought had no intellect, seemingly possess some if not more.”
Rose didn’t possess a throat or saliva, but he replicated a gulping sound of nervousness through the speakers of the ship.
“Ha I thought so.” Deimos smiled and turned his head back to the display before him.
Rose boiled in shame and embarrasement. A simple meat bag had bested him in the one thing which he considered to be his greatest advantage and strength, his intelligence.
“But unfortunately I was not blessed with such genius that I might have another idea tucked in my boot.”
Deimos’s face gained a new shade of grey. On that truly highlighted how old he felt and was.
“Send Dread the instructions. Tell him to crush that bug into nothing but a paste.” Deimos growled, the sound of a predator that lurked within the greens of a jungle far from here.

“I hate this dang sand!”
Coldcutter glanced sympathetically at his newest companion.
“Well while I don’t have a new paste that could salve your bolts. I do have this. Just recycle your obviously dormant wind cyclers.”
Dread glanced curiously over at Coldcutter. “Wind cylcers are only used for high-altitude environments, with poisonous atmospheres, acidic winds, or some sort of degrading chemical laced within the wind.”
“Ya but they work as sands dispensers.”
Dread went through a few dormant programs and selected his air cycler program with disbelief. And then it worked.
“It was never meant to...”
“Oh hell ya, what ya gonna say to the master?”
“Thanks.”
“I thought so.”
The duo walked on, Coldcutter babling on about his greatness with improvising.

Dread paused in his endless lumbering across the dunes.
“What is it?”
“Shut up Coldcutter.”
“Fine, yeesh angry little-“ Coldcutter murmured some obscenity as he stopped talking.
Dread acessed a data packet that had drifted through straight to him. What surprised him was that it was from Deimos. As he unpackaged the data from the file, he recieved orders with the clear, distinct warning of suicide mission labelled on it. When he finally finished reading his newest set of orders. He swore.
“Wow, now there’s some language I have not heard since I was at a bar fight in Jersey.”
Dread glanced inquisitivly at Coldcutter.
“21st century.” He amended.
“Wow your old.”
“Hmmph at least I got skill.”
“I have skill.” Dread complained.
“Ya, the skill of spamming a gattling gun.”
Dread shifted in the sand, slightly embarassed.
“So anyway what was in the orders?”
“How’d you know it was orders?”
“Boy, if you’ve been on the field for as long as I have, then you know when a man, or metal crab,” Coldcutter gestured at Dread. “Swears when he gets an email. It usually involves suicidal orders.”
Dread fired two tiny grenades into the dirt, the approximation of a snort. “We’ve been ordered to kill a hive queen. Located at around 670 miles north-west.”
Dread started to walk away, leaving a slightly befuddled Coldcutter to scramble after him.
“A hive queen? Why don’t they just send one of em’ Corpse teams or somethin’?”
“Because my American friend. We’re the closest, we have the biggest guns-“
“Hell ya I do.”
“And-“ Dread continued as if nothing happened. “It came from my personal friend Rose, the AI of The Bloodless Rose and his captain Deimos.”
“Well you sound awful surly.”
“Thanks.”
“So any idea of where we could refuel before we begin our kamikaze assignment?”
“There’s a fire base 335 miles ahead in the same direction we need to go.”
“Good that’s half the trip done, plus a refreshing pit stop.”
“A pit stop for what?”
“I gotta take a leak.”
“You’re a war drone now Coldcutter. You don’t leak.”
“Well I sure as hell feel like I need to take a leak.”
“Oh god.”
They continued on their way. Two sets of tracks embedded in the sand. Quickly followed by another set of tracks, being made by an invisible figure that stalked the two drones with infinite patience.
Upon the duo’s travels they chanced across some ruins. Towering stone arches and pillars dominated the ruins. Sections of the roof had been caved in, parts of pillars lay on stone floors. Half of the ruins were exposed to the sun, the stone there had been bleached white as bone, while the other half was a dark red like the colour of congealed blood. But at the very end of the ruins an altar, stained with blood from an age before, sat, dominating the rest of the temple.
“Since when was this here?” Coldcutter breathed with awe. The temple was so large that it made both drones seem like the six legged creatures they were styled after.
“That’s what gets me. It wasn’t here before.”
“Way to go for the ominous prediction.” But Coldcutter’s sarcasm was run dry in the face of the glory and majesty of the ruins.
“It’s beautiful.” Coldcutter whispered.
Dread laughed mirthlessly, “That’s until you look up.”
Coldcutter looked up.

The undamaged part of the temple’s roof was dotted with hooks, some hooks were suspended by chains like in a butchers cold storage room. And from each hook that littered the roof hung a skinless, dead human being.
“My god.” Coldcutter breathed. The brutality and violence that had been put into such an act, even an act of war, was like a knife to the gut.
“I know. And I am a war drone.” Replied Dread to Coldcutter’s unspoken question.
“Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know who would be so heartless to do such things to inoccent people,” Dread seemed to take a large breath. “But whoever they are they weren’t Galfrans.”
“How do you know?”
“Look at the sand.”
In the sand the only tracks that had been found were short, shuffling sort of steps, most likely the prisoners. But next to them were the normal steps of a human, and they hadn’t been captured. It was obvious from the way the tracks spread, like the person had had all the time in the world.
“So a fleshbag did this?”
“Yes, and this ‘fleshbag’ wasn’t alone.”
Everywhere the same care free tracks were embedded within the sand. As the two steel behemoths walked through the broken temple, they took in every scene of brutality they could find. There a man chained to a broken pillar while something ripped open his abdomen and ate his innards. At an undamaged pillar a corpse pinned to the stone by somone’s spinal cord pulled around her throat. As Dread and Coldcutter walked farther they found pieces of bodies. A limb here, a head there, patches of skin, and smears of blood on the walls. Finally they both stopped before the altar.
It was massive, both Dread and Coldcutter could have fit on to its top without a problem. It’s sides and top were stained by old brown blood. And engraved in every millimeter of its stone skin were words. Though not words that either drone could read. The script flowed around the altar as if it were water and some of the words were snakes slithering beneath it’s surface. It was a vile and horrible thing that also seemed to pulse with an unnatural life. Lying across its top were two desecrated corpses. The only thing that seemed even human about these two decaying skeletons, was the fact that they had died holding hands. It was too much for Coldcutter.
“I need a momment.” He whispered raggedly.
“Go take it. It was better than what these people had.”
Coldcutter lurched out of the temple and said something so quietly that only Dread could hear it, but only barely.
“I wanted to die like that, with my wife.”

August 2067
Joe Holiday had one thought as he walked to the local bus stop.
‘I hate the god damn Chinese.’
In the last two decades resources, especially oil, had depleted to the point of near existence. China, being a superpower jerk, had found a way to create clean effecient energy through the use of fusion reactors powered by sea water. Their country had gained a Chinese Eisentein. The new China had used this new technology to create weapons of mass destruction. Guns, tanks, helicopters,boats and planes all gained the abillity to vaporise anything and everything to atoms. With this new found millitary strength and the numbers to squash most countries, China created an alliance of sort, the newly created Dominion rampaged through the world. Anything that failed to bend knee to the emperors was destroyed. Australia, India, Russia, the scars of fusion bombs, and beams from orbital weapons platforms marked the death of nation after nation. As it always seemed, America stood firm against these foreigns invaders.
All these thoughts were present within Joe as he waited before the bus station. But it wasn’t really a bus station anymore. A network of teleporters had been introduced to the American community, each person had a teleporter that they would step on and be transported with that teleporter to their desired location. As the line thinned Joe swore that he could feel a slight pressure in his head, a supposed sure fire sign that a Vulture anti-grav plane was coming.
‘Ha, that’s impossoble.’
As Joe looked up he expected a light blue sky to greet him. But the ten Vultures flying in bombing formation were not a sight for his eyes.

He crouched in the sand as grains flicked across his visage. He brought up an internal heads up display or HUD and looked through his power usages. His stealth skin was at an unusually low level, in heavily urban areas, or forests this level would have been... revealing. But considering that mirages were very common within Coryphaus’s deserts the reduced power setting didn’t hurt anyone. Still as he sat there he began to relive memories as he watched the volunteer war drone remember falling bombs.
“Hey, pencil neck! Why don’t ya’ come over here for a second.”
The bully was Cartham, he terrorized everything and everyone. He wasn’t even the right type of bully. People only pretended to be his friends so that they didn’t draw his hate. He even broke a girl’s back because she didn’t go out with him. It was said that when he was at home he took out his anger on both his parents and the animals within the forest. One thing which was certain to everyone was that Cartham was a monster.
“So, is there any girls here that catch your eye?” Cartham asked with a sickening sweetness.
I looked over each girl, saw their pleading stares and the pain they endured at Cartham’s hands.
“I don’t like any.”
“Aw well that’s a shame.”
He shoved me away, as I tumbled to the floor I only just catched a glimpse of Cartham dragging a girl into the toilets. As I looked away I couldn’t shake the image of her pleading green eyes.
He opened his eyes, not that anyone noticed. The war drone still seemed to be embraced by his painful memories. Forgetting everything he had been taught, he stepped forward and placed a hand on the drone’s shoulder.
Coldcutter felt a pressure on his left shoulder, and opened fire upon the man shaped mirage before him. His abdomen twisted like a whirlwind, weapons attached spewing fire into the shimmers before him. Sand was kicked up before him in a widening pool, suddenly one of his less intense lasers snagged something, and a corpus assassin stared him in the eyes.
The bullet fire spewed past him as he straightened and put his hands behind his back, watching the drone’s violent reaction. Suddenly bright lancing pain flared up within him. But he pushed past it as his cloak deactivated. Standing there surrounded by a tornado of sand, he pushed he cloak behind him and gazed at his opponent. He was rewarded with a shifting from foot to foot that signaled his unease.
The light brown sand hid everything behind a thin sheet of earth, so that only shadows showed where the two opponents were. On the right a mass of branchs connected to a giant spider, on the other side a tall skeletal figure in a red and black cloak. The mass of branches tensed, a sword appeared within the skeletons grasp. They bowed, they charged.
“STOP!”
They stopped.
Dread marched from the temple stairs, a loud and murderous god. Coldcutter quickly withdrew his armnants, and the corpus assassin gulped. The gravel beneath each of their feet jumped and trembled as Dread walked from the temple. The corpus assassin had the good sense to withdraw his blade to its hidden home.
“I walk out and see two idiots fighting over an accidental push in the middle of a desert before a sacred slaughter house.”
Both the corpus assassin and Coldcutter blinked, but you couldn’t really tell the corpus assassin blinked behind the blackness that came with a void hood.
Dread gazed at the two waiting for the supposed obvious thing to do, “Well?”
Coldcutter looked to the corpus assassin, the corpus assassin looked to coldcutter.
“I’m.....sorry?” Muttered Coldcutter.
The corpus assassin repeated what Coldcutter said.
“Good.” Nodded Dread.
For a while the three of them stood there in a loose triangle not daring to break the silence.
“What did you mean ‘sacred slaughter house’?” The corpus assassin queried.
“Come inside and look for yourself.”
The assassin nodded and ascended the stairs, his crimson and black cloak swirling before him.

Coldcutter was a tad angery with Dread for breaking his fight, “Who was that jerk?”
“That was a redeeming corpus assassin.”
“Redeeming?”
“Yes, you see corpus assassins have two colours, red and black. Ninety nine percent of these assassins have red armour with black swirls that look like mist creeping up them. This one had the opposite.”
“So?’ Coldcutter was not fazed by this information on a killers fashion sense.
“It means that this particular corpus assassin is considered a criminal, a killer amongst his own kind. And that he is redeeming himself.”
“A killer amongst killers? Wow and I thougt that society didn’t like me.”

He walked the temple, its ruined architecture calling to him, reminding him of failings he had achieved long before. There the smear of blood that represented his first kill. There from the rafters the bodies hanging from chains, symbolising the destruction left in his wake. And finally there, where he betrayed all he held dear. He stood by the altar, crouched and traced one word out of the countless others there.
“Reaper.” He whispered with a skeleton’s monotone.
“Reaper! Reaper! Reaper!” Screamed the children.
Cartham had terrorized the girl with green eyes again, she seemed to be his favourite. But everytime she was taken, everytime. He was there watching, a cruel observer he must seem to her. A sadistic child he must seem to the children and teachers. He used to have friends, but with Cartham dragging the same girl away, time after time, people had thought he had something to do with it. It wasn’t fair! None of it was fair. And now the only people who could make him laugh and smile were sitting with Jonas Metic. Jonas was fat, stupid, ugly and creepy. He ranked high on a different scale than Cartham. But the fact that they sat with him, played with him, talked with him. Drove him to tears.
One Thursday afternoon, I was sitting, just sitting, on the old swing set, the one that groaned every time you used it. I sat there swaying gently back and forth as the wind tousled my hair. And then I was flying. The ground flew to meet me, embracing me with its cold, stone floor. I groan the sound long and low. But sweet, sick laughter drifts like the breeze over me, hiding my pain.
“Did you see him!? It was like he was Superman or something!” Cartham wacked his knee in laughter, the hilarity of the momment only evident to him. But to make sure they didn’t fly like me, they laughed too. It was hollow and mechanic. But it didn’t seem to bother Cartham. But what I cried at was the green eyed girl, laughing with fake enthusiasm at my demise. Cartham trudged over, drunk with laughter and his own power.
“Did you like flying little boy? Did you think you could touch the sky? Well that is the last time you will.” Cartham suddenly lurched over his smile gone as he reached for my legs. The truth dawned on me and I tried to scramble away, like a mouse tries to escape a hawk. His hands found my legs and he pulled me towards him. He lifted me up, watching me dangle by my ankle. He grinned then made a whipping motion with me and slammed me into the ground. The pain rose up, a tidal wave of red, and I knew my legs were broken. And like Cartham had said, I wouldn’t be able to fly again.
But somone had courage enough to stand up to Cartham, a death wish many said. The green eyed girl came forward and whispered in his ear, rapidly pointing at me and him. Eventually she stopped and look at Cartham. Cartham slowly straightened, and hit the girl in the side of the head. Something cracked, shockingly loud. But Cartham didn’t care he raced over to the dead body and screamed at it, shrieking obscenities and monstrosities at the dead girl. Her dead eyes stared at me, still brilliant green and seemed to plead to me to stand up for myself and for the others that had died at Cartham’s ‘tender’ hands. I lurched to my feet and discovered they weren’t broken. I staggered to Cartham with his back turned and kicked him between the legs, where the sun didn’t shine. He howled, a cry of animalistic pain that wouldn’t end. But when it did he turned to me, grabbed my head and twisted it. The same loud cracked followed. As I fell to the ground again I noticed the distinct lack of blackness that should herald death, instead the same bright streaming sun came through my eyes. I should be dead.
Cartham shouted, it wasn’t even intelligent, rather a hooting sound of an animal’s triumph. He hollered and leapt spraying ash all over an already dead world. As he spun spraying the grey powder everywhere, I once again lurched to my feet. Cartham was still griped in the throes of his victory, so when no when was cheering with him any more he turned. I stood there, my legs were broken, I could feel the splinters of bone grinding against each other. But I also felt my bones turn to mercury and meld back together. Cartham’s face was a mask of indescribable rage.
“So you a zombie or something?”His voice was strained and his face bulged red with rage.
“Well zombies can’t die, but they can burn.” Cartham whipped out an aerosol can and a lighter.
“Burn in hell you- Cartham’s final words were lost a in woosh of fire.
I watched as the flames consumed me and my flesh fell off in chunks. I felt nothing.
Eventually the flames died down and a charred corpse stood amongst a desert of ash. It was as if a deity of death came down, and visited his corpse worshippers. I stood there my bones black with patches of white strewn across, no flesh could be seen. My clothes were but burnt, rags that clung to my shoulders. My eyes were no longer there, yet I could see as if they had always been there. And my ears they worked, I could hear, I could hear the children scream reaper.
Men with guns arrived, they circled me as a hunter circles a wounded animal. They spoke warnings and tried to make me feel as if I was human. It didn’t work, so I took a step and walked away, my feet felt disembodied, as if I was hijacking a body. The men fidgeted and one fired upon me in fright. I saw the bullets, I heard them, felt them slam into my bones. But the pain did not come, and so I remebered something, a saying. If you can feel pain, it means your alive. I didn’t feel it anymore. So I obviously wasn’t alive. I trudged forth determined to walk this death world as an avatar of a corpse god.

“You think he’s in a mantra or something?”
“Don’t be stupid Carl, he’s just another merchant on the road and by the looks of him is very wealthy.”
“You sure? I’ve seen people like this they just seem to vanish into the dust storms when their done.”
“Done doing what?”
“Done killing everything there.”
They continued to bicker on the supposed victim they had, meanwhile he rose a silent shadow amongst a dieing reminder of evil.
“Gentleman, gentleman, there is no need to bicker. You won’t have tongues to bicker with anymore though.” The voice that spoke seemed at once a beautiful singers speak, while also sounding like a dead man’s monotone.
A mirror blade, a sharp almost japanese samurai style sword, made of a steel that reflected everything. Appeared within his grip. It twirled and danced a living thing rather than a weapon.
Both men scambled for old style laser shotguns, but they were too slow. The sword flashed and the first mans arm came off still wriggling like a dying worm. He screamed as the blood squirted from the stump that was his arm. He fell to the floor his throat raw from screaming, the mirror blade silenced the unwanted noise. The second bandit scrambled for the entrance to the temple, but a simple flip over his head and a twist severed his torso from his lower legs.He crawled but long, bony fingers reached for his neck and lifted him up. The bandit scrabbled at the hood that hid his killer’s face. But they never reached. The bandit had one hope. A small jagged knife hidden in his jacket could be his key to survival.
“You’ll never kill me.” The bandit spluttered.
“Why? Will you become a martyr? I severly doubt it.”
“No, but your going to let go.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because of this.”
The bandit whipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out the hunting knife of his youth. He had practised long hours with this weapon and in his practised hand it was a weapon with no equal. The knife screamed toward the bandits killer, and entered cleanly. But he did not die.
“And that was supposed to achieve what?”
The bandit died his neck broken and his body impaled upon a stone pillar. His face held the most comical expression of shock. Maybe because his killer was immortal.

“I suspect that you knew those two wonderful individual’s were here.”
“Obviously.” Dread said with only a trace of sarcasm.
“So since I have been tested by two oversized bugs, did I pass?”
“Exceptionally.”
“So now since I’ve become a part of this merry game, I’d like to know the name’s of my death brothers.”
Death brothers, an old term indeed.
“I am Dread and this is my companion Coldcutter.”
“I haven’t had a name for a while, but the one I hold close to myself is Grim.”
“Grim it is then.”
Many people would say that this trio was simply a time bomb waiting go off, but the truth of the matter is that they were probably the most perfect team that could be formed. A team of killers and psychopath’s though.
Sand, sand and sand. It was all that was present where Coldcutter walked, his hatred for this particular substance was growing with every centimeter that he had to trudge in. His own air cycling system had malfunctioned, having been overloaded by the majority of sand. And now it clogged his every bolt and screw. It was amazingly annoying. Beside him, his own air cycler working perfectly was Dread. Dread, Coldcutter thought, was a giant parent of steel. He was always there, sarcastic, approving, disapproving. You would have thought he did have a child. Beside him, phasing in and out of sight was the corpus assassin Grim. He , Coldcutter thought was like the Chinese which had bombed his home. He wasn’t Chinese that was for sure. Colcutter and the rest of the early Domain had wiped them from the face of the planet, it had been a happy occasion. Grim was something else. Something that really couldn’t be explained by Coldcutter at the moment.
Dread took point. He was the first person to encounter the searing sand and sun. And the first to voice his annoyance at the constant and unwelcome, companion that was sand. He had decided early on from meeting Coldcutter that he would have to be a sort of cushioning hand, to stop the volunteer from having too much ‘fun’. But now Dread wanted to stop Coldcutter from going to deep into unwanted memories. Dread stopped in his tracks, mentally. He had never felt compassion, never once in his life. But now through this meeting with others that seemed to hold such a common bond with him, he felt as if unwanted memories of his own were surfacing. To stop himself from spiralling down into pain he stopped himself from acessing his own personal data bases for the next 16 hours. But it didn’t stop two words from surfacing. Macea, daughter.
Dread’s final thought before he closed off the doors to his memories was what he truly was, no real war drone would feel these things. Scratch that no normal war drone would remember these things. What was he?

Broken, it’s all we are, thought Grim. Dread a man with so much left within him, but locked away so he wouldn’t ever know. Coldcutter, filled to the brim with invisible anger against a foe no longer there. And myself? Grim thought. I am the most broken of us all. He remembered the stern face of his Master, the man that held the Corpus Assassin’s together. He remembered the harsh words spoken in the dark confines of the Judge’s Tomb.
“You have killed another brother in cold blood. With no need, but your own insatiable appetite for the end.” Master had said with that old dissaproving note to it.
“What say you in your own defence?” He questioned.
The jury and the crowd echoed his question.
“I say. I say that Brother Jericoh had it coming.”
Gasps filled the Tomb as fists were drawn and shouts raised. The Master though only looked at him, in the way a man would try to solve a vast puzzle laid out before him.When the gasps and mutterings grew and grew, until nothing but his death was heard, did Grim speak again.
“My family, do you not remeber the vow of silence we took?”
The crowd was stunned that such an argument was brought to them.
“Of course we do.” Answered a man from the back of the crowd.
“Well if you do remember, sit down and be quiet until my trial is over.”
In ones, twos and hesitant groups they sat. The sound of muttering was still there but muted. Grim would’ve smiled had he the muscles to show it.
“We have come to our final desicion.” Boomed the Master.
“You Brother Grim, are sentenced to redeem yourself within the eyes of our Saviour,” the Master took a breath, letting the silence create a pregnant pause for him to speak. “You will hence forth take the red as your colour. You will hence forth be banished from this world. And, you will hence forth... be taken from the rolls of silence.”
Grim looked around, many were pleased, a few dissapointed and many others were shocked by the last order.
“Ironic isn’t it,” Grim laughed as he turned to face his Master. “That now that you’ve destroyed me from the rolls of silence, that an entire Family lies silent while I. Talk to my hearts content.”
No answer was given as every member looked blankly on, never allowing Grim’s words to reach them.
“I think I’ll visit Coryphaus. I always liked sand.”

The Galfran thought that these travellers would be easy prey. They walked with the lazy steps of those used to safety. But their small, idylic world was about to be shattered. With a few gestures, and orders the Galfran ambushers took positions, waiting until their prey was just within reach. But sometimes predators are the prey, they just don’t know it yet.
Grim ran forward, the mirror blade flashing as he dropped three Galfrans as they rose from their hiding spot. The blade moved methodically, chopping left and right, leaving corpses in its wake. A Galfran popped from cover and fired upon Grim, who drew behind stone and pulled a long pistol from its holster. The pistol was of an insidious design, the clip was at the base of the pistol. Five long, large, super heated spikes of metal were placed within a cylinder which cycled each round to be fired, much like an old style revolver. And just to be safe, a large blade portruded alongside the handle on each side. It was a deadly weapon in the hands of any, but it was an instrument within the hands of a master. Which was exactly what Grim was.
The Galfran popped up from the stones strewn across the ground like a disturbed childs idea of clowns emerging from a wind up box. As they came up so did Dread’s auto senses. They flew across his vision, little red triangles targeting individual targets. As each triangle found a target for itself, a bullet or single missile round would send it to hell. Dread moved through the rocks, targets running from the insane amount of firepower being released from their enemy. A single bullet for each target, there was just so many of them.
“Don’t worry I’ve got a bullet for every one of you.”

Coldcutter moved like an ice skater, his shins allowing him to glide across the sand like an angel. His weapons spun, spewing fire in a never ending barrage. When he came up to a large bit of cover that would take to long to flank, he simply used his mirror blades to open a path for himself. The startled Galfrans left behind him attributed to his devious attack pattern. He twirled, an arc of destruction decimated a group of tightly bunced Galfrans. He pranced, and a Galfran lost its head. He danced a dance of death, beautiful to behold and terrofying to be part of. Coldcutter laughed, the sound infused music from an age before.
“Ha I’m getting old! So give me a challenge you worms!”

“You know, Galfran meat probably tastes better than it looks.” Dread said.
“I told you I don’t need to eat.” Grim replied.
“Of course you do, unless you want to starve. Your already skeletal as it is.”
“I’m sorry to keep repeating this but I don’t need to eat period.”