Ranking: Jacked Out
Registration date:02/14/2009 21:35:31 Last Online:04/03/2009 20:09:18 Number of messages posted:
[32] Messages posted by Pr0jectG3nisis Created topics:
[2] Topics created by Pr0jectG3nisis Biography:Drops In The Ocean
Rain.
Hard, heavy rain tumbling down from the heavens. Each drop, impacting on the ground around me,
causing minute splashes as it spreads. Drops landing on my head, dripping from the purple mop I
flaunt as a hair style.
Wind.
Whistling, driving wind throwing the tails of my coat to the breaze. Exposing the backs of my
legs to the hard impacts of the rain, carried at speed by the same force that seeks to pull the
coat from my back.
Home.
I love it here, the simulation. As the place of my birth, I hold it sacred and dear. Of all the
aspects and places that have combined to create it, it is the mere simplicity of the weather that
I enjoy most. The feelings and sensations the various codes can cause. I pause for a moment,
pondering if what I'm feeling is what the humans must feel when they come to intrude. If, in some
small way, perhaps in that distant connection through shared experience I too am a little human?
I shudder at the thought. Quickly reminding myself I am a program, coded and designed for a single
purpose: To purge my 'home' of its intruders.
______
Opening my eyes once more & returning from the sweet serene of my thoughts, I focus on the bodies
at my feet. Hearing the almost child like giggling of the new recruit standing behind me, his
RSI still fluctuating with the infectious code I shared with him, severing his mind from his body.
He laughs as he looks upon the simulation with a whole new perspective, for it is now his home as
it is mine. Consumed by the code that flows through me, I watch as he explores his newly
found prowess and enhancements. Proud to see the Glitch spreading once more...
Click. The sound of a hammer forcing its pin into the primer of a chambered round. Followed by
the resulting sound wave as the powder ignites and the pressure forces the bullet hurtling from
the mussle. Its seems the fallen prey had a compantion I hadn't accounted for, no matter it'll be
over quickly I think to myself. Spinning around to face the direction of the sound, the world
slows the enhancements launch, pushing my programming up a gear. Leaning to my left I watch as
the sniper round slowly passed by, continuing on its journey behind me. Slipping my knives from
their sheaths, I dart towards my assailant. A volley of knives pins the another 'would be' killer
to the wall behind them, as the new recruit proves they are eager to assist; Punching and kicking
the helpless wretch like a trianing bag. "Leave this one alive" I instruct, "Let him tell the
others what happned".
We leave the whelp bloodied & unconcious, still hanging from the knives I'd used to pin his arms
and legs to the wall. A little 'message' to his commanders and a subtle dig at thier intollerable
belief that a saviour will return and free them. Can they not see that the last incarnation, Neo,
didn't save them? Can they not see they are beyond redemption, that they lost the 'war' long ago.
They exist only because the machines, for one reason or another, haven't swarmed their settlements
and crushed them, just like before...
_______
Sunlight. Warm, comforting rays wake me from my slumber. My current place of rest; a modest bench
at Tabor West. I shake my head to try and clear the fuzzy sensation that always follows when I
wake, following a flash back. Looking around it must have rained heavy while I was out, my garments
are soaked through and there is a reflective shine to the floor where the sunlight collides with
the residual water. A moment of panic hits me, but quickly washes away as I can still feel my knives
at my side. Struggling to clear the groggy feeling that still lingers, I wonder if anyone found
the poor wretch we'd left pinned to the wall & if they saw the irony of him in a crusified position.
Little more that a subtle message, like a tiny drop of water impacting upon an ocean of enemies.
But, like a
