Post by メタルヒーロー on Oct 12, 2018 12:53:15 GMT -5
The black, glassy earth brims with trees. Flailing, epileptic branches frozen in time. Long dead, yet there still. Still.
METAL HERO, the world’s more fearsome and notorious cybernetic warrior, saunters through the dead forest. His metallic boots click against the obsidian plane of this strange, strange realm.
He slides a gloved hand across the crystallized bark. The bone-colored sky above him gurgles with pregnant madness. From behind the glassy helm which masks his countenance, we cannot know his accounting of this world. We can only judge him through is words and deeds as he glides through the trees.
He stops in the center of this alien forest. He is like a piece on the chessboard of a mutant world. A rogue surrounded by the bizarre, satanic figurines of a mind untethered. His arms at his side, his glassy helm bowed to the dark and glassy earth. All is still. Still.
He raises his palms to the sky. The frozen trees begin to tremble, the glassy earth beneath him quakes and cracks with tiny tributaries. And above him the steel haze crackles like a wheel moving a stone gate.
The trees become red hot like the steel forged by a blacksmith. Steam exhales from the cracks in the obsidian plane. He has waited yet now waits no more. The heavens open and bathe him in a column of dazzling, celestial light. His arms reach into the milky ceiling of the universe – come hither! Come hither!
METAL HERO, the world’s more fearsome and notorious cybernetic warrior, saunters through the dead forest. His metallic boots click against the obsidian plane of this strange, strange realm.
I have sailed through this galaxy in search of the most fearsome warriors. So that I, METAL HERO, may know for certain whether I deserve to stand in the Eternal Hall. I have lived in my current state, forged by war and technology, for over seventy years. I have seen the world become weak. The limbs of men have become thin like cigarettes while their bellies droop over the flabby pouches where the soul of a warrior dwells.
And waits.
And waits.
He slides a gloved hand across the crystallized bark. The bone-colored sky above him gurgles with pregnant madness. From behind the glassy helm which masks his countenance, we cannot know his accounting of this world. We can only judge him through is words and deeds as he glides through the trees.
At Pro-Wrestling TOUKON a single match awaits me. And there I confront the bookends of my tenure as this company’s junior heavyweight champion.
It is Matt Pulver. A man who slays giants, a pilgrim from foreign shores who has been embraced by my countrymen. He reminds me of my own origins, as the Japanese and American scientists built me into the world’s most lethal fighting machine. I embrace Matt Pulver. I must defeat him as I did when Julian Cutlass asked me to fight in his place.
It is Matt Pulver. A man who slays giants, a pilgrim from foreign shores who has been embraced by my countrymen. He reminds me of my own origins, as the Japanese and American scientists built me into the world’s most lethal fighting machine. I embrace Matt Pulver. I must defeat him as I did when Julian Cutlass asked me to fight in his place.
He stops in the center of this alien forest. He is like a piece on the chessboard of a mutant world. A rogue surrounded by the bizarre, satanic figurines of a mind untethered. His arms at his side, his glassy helm bowed to the dark and glassy earth. All is still. Still.
But Lynx… I struggle to fathom this enigmatic beast. A physique chiseled in the image of a feline-faced Adonis. A beast from the ashes against myself – the perfect union of man and technology. So the ancient beast peels itself from the earth’s womb and it is I, METAL HERO, who has been delivered to vanquish this creature. I am the modern weapon, yet I have not dissolved my connection to the Abyss. I am no mere android. Somewhere deep inside, that spirit…
He raises his palms to the sky. The frozen trees begin to tremble, the glassy earth beneath him quakes and cracks with tiny tributaries. And above him the steel haze crackles like a wheel moving a stone gate.
It is strange that, I, METAL HERO, the warrior built to end all wars, should continue to seek quarrel. For it was I who liberated the Earth from the apocalyptic musings of false princes. Yet perhaps I did not do enough. After all, the world remains in squalor. No, our poverty is not of material substance. Rather it is the combination of material indulgence with the assassination of the spirit. The spirituality of mankind has dwindled into a null set known as nihilism.
My god, we managed to live for something beyond survival! But once we mastered our survival, did we ever wonder what we might then live for? Can we dream of a purpose beyond the desire to seek comfort and avoid danger?
My god, we managed to live for something beyond survival! But once we mastered our survival, did we ever wonder what we might then live for? Can we dream of a purpose beyond the desire to seek comfort and avoid danger?
The trees become red hot like the steel forged by a blacksmith. Steam exhales from the cracks in the obsidian plane. He has waited yet now waits no more. The heavens open and bathe him in a column of dazzling, celestial light. His arms reach into the milky ceiling of the universe – come hither! Come hither!
I will give them a reason to be strong.
I WILL GIVE THEM A REASON TO LIVE!
I WILL GIVE THEM A REASON TO LIVE!