Duty Bound | The End Justifies the Means | Target
It’s set in motion/ The legends spoken/ This is my moment/ Can’t break my focus/ Know where I’m going/ This is my moment
Conquer – Magnus & Neoni
Characters: Elder Kajj
Content Warnings: Implied Murder, Violence, Disassociation
Words: 375
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Target
The shapes moved all around him, but he forced himself not to recognize, not to care. He saw in terms of contrast, dark and not dark, still and moving. Their breath rasping in the air. Their hearts a drum of war, urging him forward, drawing him in. His body had a duty here. His mind was somewhere else.
Target
Movement for movement, closing in, closing fists, and a spill of heat. Metallic. The scent of it burned in the back of his throat, clawing at the back of his mind where screams were but distant echoes, bouncing in the dark.
Target
Had to move, couldn’t settle. Had to breathe, though the air congealed within his chest, clotting and twisting, physical revulsion that gurgled outside of himself. Red against skin against steel against claw. Paint a picture, abstract artform.
What truth swirled within the puddles?
What meaning lurked within the air?
Target
He spiraled deeper spiraled inwards. Away and away… it was cold here, it was dark. Nothing like the hot outside the sickening squelch the taste and the rot and the taste– just silence. Silence and nothing, forever and always.
A body as vessel.
A body as numb.
The world beat on the walls and screamed for attention but he shut them out spiral down spiral in
To the black to the black to the Black
Target
The body moved without him. It knew its duty well. Didn’t need him. No one did — a terrible burden and so he was relieved, dark and floating, dull and gone. Blink and there’s movement. Blink and there’s not. The feed of his life was a hissing magnetic tape, distant and blurred, tracking off tracking tracking tracking
Target
He was nothing. Body as machine. Body as order, order made whole. Click through the processes, click through routine. Somewhere outside of himself, someone is screaming. Somewhere inside of himself he answers in kind.
Once again once again once again
Target and Target and Target and still —
Stillness and silence and metal in air.
Metal in liquid form.
Metal in soul.
Wires and circuitry, chains made of nerves. A body as prison and darkness as cell.
Silence and silence both inside and out.
No Targets Remaining
No self remaining.
No.