CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
jajg
g
sg
g
d
sdnadng
fg
D
there is notnig
just frustatyiogn
#nto humn less
less
less
that's what it is
less
I am less
less is not more
it's hell
lol how can any of you live like this?
because you're not like ths
but what are you like?
happy
I don't get it
MEEPE MEPE
_____________-
He turned his gun slowly in his hands, staring at it, feeling every part of its surface, examining it with his hands and eyes. It was strange, he'd been using the gun for weeks. It was his only friend. Yet he'd never really taken the time to get to know it. Probably because he was always on the run. He'd had to kill two people that morning. He felt he deserved a break. A rest from killing...no, just from running. He just wanted to be still. He just wanted to pretend he didn't have to worry about anything. So he sat up in the branches of the tree, meaning to watch the clouds but instead examining his gun. He would never be the kind of person who looked at clouds again, he realised, sadly.
He heard a noise. The game was back on. He was a criminal, yes, but he didn't deserve this. He hadn't known the rules, when he'd come to this planet. Sure, he'd sold some Bliss tablets, but they were only a minor narcotic, barely even addictive. There had only ever even been a few cases of any species of alien dying after taking a Bliss tablet. They were nothing. But not to the government of Ceti Alpha 5. They treated all drugs in the same way. And the penalty for all drug crimes was the same. To be released into the jungles of madness and be hunted by his fellow criminals. Each given a gun. Each injected with a chip which would kill them if they did not kill at least one of their fellows a day. A cruel but effective way to keep the criminal population down. Those who weren't murdered were at risk of dying anyway if they didn't commit murder themselves. Those who survived in the jungle for a year would be conscripted to the army, allowed a more noble death. It was his goal, he supposed. To at least get off this planet. He had last six week so far and had killed far more than six people.
He'd never taken a life before being confined to the jungle of Madness, never. Petty crimes were one thing, but murder. It was different. He had always believe that. He didn't follow any specific religion, but he did have his own moral code which was loosely based around the fact that there was something bigger than him out there, something that would punish him if he ever broke the code. He'd bent the code over the years, circumstances had demanded it. But he'd never resorted to murder. The first time he was shaking. The criminal who had attacked him had been much smaller, weak, easily overpowered and thrown to the jungle floor, his head hitting hard, knocking him unconscious. He looked down and knew he couldn't do it, he couldn't kill. It was wrong. He felt it in his gut, in the back of his neck. There would be some divine retribution if he took a life. Surely! Yet it had been six days in the jungle and he hadn't killed yet. And he did not want to die. To go on living, he would have to kill. He knew that, rationally. He tried to convince himself of it, that he had no choice but to pull the trigger. And, a lot sooner than he would have expect, his body just made him pull it. His would be assassin was lying dead beneath him.
And he felt nothing. And nothing happened. He wasn't struck down from above. He wasn't overwhelmed with guilt. There was nothing but a body.
After that, he didn't hesitate before killing. Once you've took one life, he figured, still rationalising his actions to fit his moral code but calmly now, it did make much difference if you took a hundred more.
The two below the tree were large. But they couldn't see him. He was just sitting there on the branch, in broad daylight, and they couldn't see him. They deserved to die just for that, he thought to himself. He didn't have to kill them, he had more than filled his quota for the week. But he aimed, pulled the trigger, blowing the first one's head off nevertheless. The second looked up. Their eyes locked. It was a woman. The first woman he'd seen in the jungle.
"I'll be yours, if you spare me!" she shouted. The rational part of his mind was tempted. It had been so long since he'd had female company...
He pulled the trigger and she dropped lifeless to the floor. He couldn't go back. He'd never be thrilled by something as mundane as sex now. There was only one thing that could make him feel alive.
He examined his gun again. His love.
g
sg
g
d
sdnadng
fg
D
there is notnig
just frustatyiogn
#nto humn less
less
less
that's what it is
less
I am less
less is not more
it's hell
lol how can any of you live like this?
because you're not like ths
but what are you like?
happy
I don't get it
MEEPE MEPE
_____________-
He turned his gun slowly in his hands, staring at it, feeling every part of its surface, examining it with his hands and eyes. It was strange, he'd been using the gun for weeks. It was his only friend. Yet he'd never really taken the time to get to know it. Probably because he was always on the run. He'd had to kill two people that morning. He felt he deserved a break. A rest from killing...no, just from running. He just wanted to be still. He just wanted to pretend he didn't have to worry about anything. So he sat up in the branches of the tree, meaning to watch the clouds but instead examining his gun. He would never be the kind of person who looked at clouds again, he realised, sadly.
He heard a noise. The game was back on. He was a criminal, yes, but he didn't deserve this. He hadn't known the rules, when he'd come to this planet. Sure, he'd sold some Bliss tablets, but they were only a minor narcotic, barely even addictive. There had only ever even been a few cases of any species of alien dying after taking a Bliss tablet. They were nothing. But not to the government of Ceti Alpha 5. They treated all drugs in the same way. And the penalty for all drug crimes was the same. To be released into the jungles of madness and be hunted by his fellow criminals. Each given a gun. Each injected with a chip which would kill them if they did not kill at least one of their fellows a day. A cruel but effective way to keep the criminal population down. Those who weren't murdered were at risk of dying anyway if they didn't commit murder themselves. Those who survived in the jungle for a year would be conscripted to the army, allowed a more noble death. It was his goal, he supposed. To at least get off this planet. He had last six week so far and had killed far more than six people.
He'd never taken a life before being confined to the jungle of Madness, never. Petty crimes were one thing, but murder. It was different. He had always believe that. He didn't follow any specific religion, but he did have his own moral code which was loosely based around the fact that there was something bigger than him out there, something that would punish him if he ever broke the code. He'd bent the code over the years, circumstances had demanded it. But he'd never resorted to murder. The first time he was shaking. The criminal who had attacked him had been much smaller, weak, easily overpowered and thrown to the jungle floor, his head hitting hard, knocking him unconscious. He looked down and knew he couldn't do it, he couldn't kill. It was wrong. He felt it in his gut, in the back of his neck. There would be some divine retribution if he took a life. Surely! Yet it had been six days in the jungle and he hadn't killed yet. And he did not want to die. To go on living, he would have to kill. He knew that, rationally. He tried to convince himself of it, that he had no choice but to pull the trigger. And, a lot sooner than he would have expect, his body just made him pull it. His would be assassin was lying dead beneath him.
And he felt nothing. And nothing happened. He wasn't struck down from above. He wasn't overwhelmed with guilt. There was nothing but a body.
After that, he didn't hesitate before killing. Once you've took one life, he figured, still rationalising his actions to fit his moral code but calmly now, it did make much difference if you took a hundred more.
The two below the tree were large. But they couldn't see him. He was just sitting there on the branch, in broad daylight, and they couldn't see him. They deserved to die just for that, he thought to himself. He didn't have to kill them, he had more than filled his quota for the week. But he aimed, pulled the trigger, blowing the first one's head off nevertheless. The second looked up. Their eyes locked. It was a woman. The first woman he'd seen in the jungle.
"I'll be yours, if you spare me!" she shouted. The rational part of his mind was tempted. It had been so long since he'd had female company...
He pulled the trigger and she dropped lifeless to the floor. He couldn't go back. He'd never be thrilled by something as mundane as sex now. There was only one thing that could make him feel alive.
He examined his gun again. His love.
