03-07-2017, 09:35 AM
With the meaty, crackling chop, Hiro's sword severed Kerrigan's head from her neck. Vengeance or justice, it didn't make a difference. She was a spiteful, hateful thing, targeting someone she knew could not survive her cancerous spines.
The wind and rain blew over the battlefield, most of Illidan's forces retreating, the assault broken. Kerrigan's zerg screeched as one, starting to turn on each other, attacking defenders and assaulters alike. Hiro took the opportunity to take out his frustration on the crazed underlings, to scour the insects from life and finish this fucking war.
Murderer with a sword, was he? Hypocritical words, coming from some intergalactic despot who twisted humans into sick, scrabbling insects. Her words were wind. They meant nothing. The damage to his pride came from being tested over and over and still finding himself wanting. He could have taken that volley of spines and spared the soldier if he were stronger.
Something to think about. That was the only lesson he wanted to focus on. The need to get stronger, and faster, to eliminate danger as fast as executing a key command.
Some time later, as he was trudging across the battlefield back towards the main gate. The rusted, unmoving form of Okor, frozen in death, arm raised defiantly and head slumped forward. He died standing, and the emaciated, bleeding forms of his cultists were regarding the body reverently, sharpening rusty knives. He recognized the glint in their eyes. A hungry glint. Oh well, waste not, want not.
"See ya in a few days, bud." The hacker mumbled to himself. That answered the question of where he would go next. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to sit on the couch and feel sorry for himself. Coruscant felt...intimidating, at the moment. He still had to face remedial training and an advisory board for his failure on Cinnabar. The incident had sparked harsh diplomatic penalties and scuttled any favorable outcome for the Empire.
He just wanted to get out of this dreary fucking 'verse.
The events following passed in a blur for Hiro, the hacker moody and pensive, the atmosphere of the Pale Moors coloring his attitude. They gave him a medal as thanks for helping defend the town, telling him he was welcome as a friend to Darkshire and that the combined Prime forces had turned the battle into a rout. Which made him feel slightly better. He'd saved the town from annihilation with his own blood and flesh.
It was with a conflicted maelstrom of emotions that he loaded bottles of strong ale from the tavern into the trunk of his car, the militia having thoughtfully towed it into an empty stable. He'd been given another bundle by the grateful populace, this one containing a tent and camping supplies. Best thing to do was camp out near the fountain and wait for Okor to show up again.
The plague marine was not what most would refer to as polite company, but the hacker felt a sense of purpose that was infectious. Okor knew what he was doing, every action he took. He wasn't crippled by indecision and apathy like Hiro had been for most of his adult life. If he was going to learn something that gave him agency in the Omniverse, it would be from Okor.
And with that thought, The Deliverator peeled out of Darkshire, on a straight shot to the Nexus gate.
The wind and rain blew over the battlefield, most of Illidan's forces retreating, the assault broken. Kerrigan's zerg screeched as one, starting to turn on each other, attacking defenders and assaulters alike. Hiro took the opportunity to take out his frustration on the crazed underlings, to scour the insects from life and finish this fucking war.
Murderer with a sword, was he? Hypocritical words, coming from some intergalactic despot who twisted humans into sick, scrabbling insects. Her words were wind. They meant nothing. The damage to his pride came from being tested over and over and still finding himself wanting. He could have taken that volley of spines and spared the soldier if he were stronger.
Something to think about. That was the only lesson he wanted to focus on. The need to get stronger, and faster, to eliminate danger as fast as executing a key command.
Some time later, as he was trudging across the battlefield back towards the main gate. The rusted, unmoving form of Okor, frozen in death, arm raised defiantly and head slumped forward. He died standing, and the emaciated, bleeding forms of his cultists were regarding the body reverently, sharpening rusty knives. He recognized the glint in their eyes. A hungry glint. Oh well, waste not, want not.
"See ya in a few days, bud." The hacker mumbled to himself. That answered the question of where he would go next. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to sit on the couch and feel sorry for himself. Coruscant felt...intimidating, at the moment. He still had to face remedial training and an advisory board for his failure on Cinnabar. The incident had sparked harsh diplomatic penalties and scuttled any favorable outcome for the Empire.
He just wanted to get out of this dreary fucking 'verse.
The events following passed in a blur for Hiro, the hacker moody and pensive, the atmosphere of the Pale Moors coloring his attitude. They gave him a medal as thanks for helping defend the town, telling him he was welcome as a friend to Darkshire and that the combined Prime forces had turned the battle into a rout. Which made him feel slightly better. He'd saved the town from annihilation with his own blood and flesh.
It was with a conflicted maelstrom of emotions that he loaded bottles of strong ale from the tavern into the trunk of his car, the militia having thoughtfully towed it into an empty stable. He'd been given another bundle by the grateful populace, this one containing a tent and camping supplies. Best thing to do was camp out near the fountain and wait for Okor to show up again.
The plague marine was not what most would refer to as polite company, but the hacker felt a sense of purpose that was infectious. Okor knew what he was doing, every action he took. He wasn't crippled by indecision and apathy like Hiro had been for most of his adult life. If he was going to learn something that gave him agency in the Omniverse, it would be from Okor.
And with that thought, The Deliverator peeled out of Darkshire, on a straight shot to the Nexus gate.
![[Image: MZSDl2O.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/MZSDl2O.jpg)