The moons glowed, hanging above the village casting its soft light. They sat reserved and stoic, uninterested in the affairs of those below. All was silent. All, but for the beast.
He sat at the edge of the village, the edge of the thrumming machine of life, the edge of the precipice, the edge of his mind. Snarling in his delirious, drunken state. He sniffed the air for prey, but there was none.
He turned on the AI translator.
The beast struck a stone and sparked a small fire of the village's refuse. The flame hung in the air for a moment, for two, for three. But the cold and winds of the planet that even man's ever present threat of innovation could not hold off promptly snuffed it out. So the beast drew back into his cave and struck fire again. Only a weak and meager flame held up. It would have to do. He snarled. It was cold out.
He settled down upon the cave floor and reminisced. Of what, even he wasn't sure. There was never much good that came from the past, anyway. His ragged claws glowed in the meager light. Should he go hunting? The beast dispelled the notion. It was too cold, too quiet for a good hunt. Back to reminiscing. Which he despised.
The night continued on. Eventually the beast lulled himself to sleep amidst the howling of the wind outside. His dreams were no better, though. Goddamnit. Nothing to do but stare at the fire.
Someone cried out in the night, but he payed no heed. Just another unwanted one. The crying continued. It was a just some child.
"But in some strange, sudden sense of justice, something awakened in the beast. Something from days long ago. He ventured out towards the howl. The child screamed, "Don't leave me!", but whoever her traitors were had already faded to a pinprick of light joining the city. And it came back.
He was on top of the world, then stabbed with his own knives. He used to rule the Martian city state; now here lay a pathetic prince of what used to be. The throbbing computers that once bowed to his whims, twisted, by his own brother.
The little urchin seemed to be a cast-off from the copper mines. Her missing leg and sickly condition was obvious. The girl was simply too expensive for family to be forever. She whimpered and looked up to the man. He took her hand, and cleaned her wounds. As the two walked to his old, creaky habitation pod, he felt a little less empty. He had a friend. And one day, the two would show them. They'd show them all.
This site is heavily under construction
