Dignified Finish of Duty


I made them, I will destroy them.

It's only fitting that the hand that brought them into the world, the womb that suffered to give them life is the one to end it. Who better than the creator to be the destroyer? Doesn't god do the same? The flood, the tower, the Passover.

But that is a western theology. Our own was so much simpler, so much easier to comprehend. We were our own gods, masters of our own fate. We, and only we, had the power to give life or take it away. And we, in our pride and thoughtlessness, our fatal tragic flaw, believe that we could duplicate god and create another type of man. A man who would kill, who would obey and do what we no longer cared to do. How foolish our aspirations! How foolish our perceived divinity!

How quick our fall ...

That fatal fall ...

The burning, the death, the very end of the world as we knew it.

I am the destroyer. I hold the guilt solely upon my soldiers. Not the blonde warrior or the first gear. I am to blame. May god, if he exists, strike me dead for my follies. Kill me once I have completed what I have sworn, what I must do. I will kill them.

Just as they killed us. As they continue to. As they return to spread their disease upon the world. Bioengineered death. Gods, indeed. Mortal, damned, soulless gods.

I will wipe them from the earth.

My final act as their mother.

To kill them before they kill themselves.

For their sins.

And mine.

This, god, if you exist, is my duty.

My honor demands no less.


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