Fable

 ****** fable

It was a warm summer's day.

The sun shined, the birds flew, and the fauna shown with brilliant scents.

The sun shines down on the entire earth.

A crimson orb over an innocent canvas, a red sun over paradise.

This picture was a site to behold a vision of vibrant colors enough to make the rainbow envious.

But colors hold meaning and not all are as deserving of the divines praise as others.

Certain colors stain the canvas with their hate and malice.

Red in particular stained the earth on this day.

No exception, but enough to draw the eyes of all the world to one location.

 

JFK airport, new york City, nine Am.

A family had just gathered to embrace their eldest son Geralt before he made his way by plane to the military bas in the far land for war was on the brink of disaster.The invincible opposition of both sides has been at a stindstill for months after the enemy had reared themselves to strike.

Geralt did not know wh he was being sent from his family to fight a war that was not his own.

His commanding officers would tell him it was for America.

They said it so much in fact that, that's the only thing that comes to mind when he and the rest of his platoon landed in the military compound.

None were more frightened than Geralt, he had never seen combat out side of a simulation with the others.

Sneaky Hydrax: He did not look forward to what was to come.

"Welcome to Big Town!"

The man that would seve as there newest commanding officer seemed cheery enough, Were it not for the ordinance detonating int eh background the man's greetings may have seemed geniunely happy.

There was no time for comforts. They found there place and were shipped to the nearest battle.

The powers that be must have been watching the fields of battle on that day because of the men and women to return tha day none stood out like the supposed hero of the day Geralt.

Commended for his sudden genius and initiative he was sent to see "The Commandant." The supposed man in charge of everything in Big town.

"i've heard alot about you in the short time you've been with us Soldier."

"Just doing what i can to save the folks back home, Sir."

The Commandant seemed eagerly happy. Smiling at Geralt from behind his des, and papers.

"They tell me this was your first deployment into combat, impressive. We need more men like you."

"Anyone could have done it, Sire. I just put the peices together, and "Bam" success, Sir."

"No Geralt i fancy myself to have an avid eye for spotting talent. And i think i've caught myself a Big one."

i've caught myself a Big one. How would you like to participate in a special program? A "Plan" to win this war."

"i'll do anyhting to make this all end faster, Sir."

"Good, that's what i "Love" to hear."

Geralt had a mind, and a particular fondness for "Saving his Countrymen."

The Commandant made good on his offer, Geralt was unfazed by the augmentation he would have to endure in order to level out his body with his mind.

Weeks later a man came out of Big town, a man of steel, and Flesh, bound in statis current, and bearing a blade.

A Man left the base.

The man became a force of his own, the head of the spear, the ultimatum.

With his newfound strength the Man culled the Weak. Being directed from battle to battle under the decisive hands of his puppeteer.

The day was won for the umpteenth time needless to say there victory was unquestionably aligned by the Man.

Months later the war was drawing to a close and winter had set inm chilling the air and the enemy. The Commandant called for the Man.

"Soldier, it all comes down to this. The enemy has mustered for a final stand. We have them surrounded. Your involvment will be key."

"Yes, Sir."

"You set out tomorrow with the others. The battle will be hard but the reward all the sweeter."

"Yes, Sir."

The man left the Commandant, the next morning thearmy had gathered. Battle was on the horizon. The man stood in the base, having all but abondoned all other weapons, he grasped his blade.

A Soldier left the Base.

Down to the last man, that is what they would say. Every man dead. Craters from bombs, holes from guns, bodies from conflict, a site of terror and dread, a red stain, on a canvas below the red sun.

A Soldier stood on the field, not a survivor but a constant, His survival was never in question. He turned to and took a step, not looking back.

A Machine left the field.

The Commondant gave a Spectral Grimmice when "it" entered his office a sign of hidden knowledge that feathered him.

"It's over Commondant."

"Where are the others, did they not return with you?"

It did not winced at the mention

"No Sir, everyone died. No survivors."

"Excellent."

There was a long pause

Head floded into the room to stave off the effects of the violent blizard outside, the sun seemed to be missing as it battered the bank of dark clouds trying futily to melt away the cold.

Heat flooded*

Synthetic light streamed across the room from the florecent light source.

For all its feted efforts it failed to lighten up the dark with its artificial florecence just like the red sun.

"When am i to return, Sir?"

"Return?"

The commandant scoffed.

"And where exactly would you be returning to?"

It thought for a moment before coming to the relization.

"I don't remember."

"The US of A, Soldier."

"Right."

The Commandant laughed.

"I can't let you go back Soldier."

"What!?, What do you mean you 'Can't'?"

"Public relations Soldier, we can't just let you go wandering around, your military hardware now Son. Your dangerous, just the way we want you to be. You've killed so many that the mere knowledge of you will be enough to quell future wars. And besides, what makes you think they even want you back?"

It looked stricken.

"you've taken the lives of both sides of the war at a near 1 to 1 ratio, we might as well have lost this war but we did'nt because the victor is the last man standing and by the end it's only you, that's why you can't go back.

It thought for a long time contemplating its next move precisly. But even as a machine, he still had room for human error.

"I have crossed the plains of desolation, scaled the foot hills of man and machine, obliterated the opposition at every turn, if i seek a goal i have no doubt that it will be done.

If i was so bold, i possess the power tostrie the earth, over, and over. Clearing a hole of earth and burrowing down until i break whole. Falling into an abyss that boarders the land of the dead. I would look around me in the red light cast down from the hellfire of our red sun. Seek and climb the darkest peek to the charpest edge, of Luficer's pitch black mountain just so i can tear his heart out and show him how black it is right before he dies. What of that Commandant, what tells you that you can force me to do anything?"

The Commandant stopped smiling.

"That's not how this game works, i'am still in control, you can't turn this around."

"There you go again, trying your hand at leashing me. But i won't keep you Sir, waste your time."

It chuckled.

"I'll just get back to what i've been doing my whole time here."

"No you're not, your making a mistake, i still have one thing you can't get back if you leave now."

"And what's that, 'Sir'?"

"I have your name."

It stared at him before cocking it's head back and unleashing a howl of laughter."

"I have no need for that name Commandant, in fact i've already chosen a new one. Thraxximunder."

It turned and began walking out of his office.

The Commandant stood up.

"Have you lost your humanity, what does that even mean!?"

"I'll let the people decide just how humane i have become, how humane you've made me, and as for the name. 'I'am Thraxximunder, he who paints the earth red'."

 Geralt died that day.