05-26-2006, 04:02 AM
Yamu?s rampage shredded tree after tree, leaving a path of fallen timber that would have made Paul Bunyan envious. The camera?s soon became bored with the rampant and unfocused destruction of the freakish human.
?Shit?is this asshole going to run into somebody anytime soon? People don?t wanna see trees?? one irritated producer mentioned in the control room.
?Hey?is he headed where I think he?s headed?? The head director asked looking at the current locations of all the remaining participants.
?Yep?I wanna see what that guy can do??
?Five bucks he drops in his first fight??
?You?re on!?
His name was Herald Humes Sinclair. He had left the Complete Works of William Shakespeare open, a play left unfinished for the first time in twenty three years, seven months, and twenty one days.
He rushed out of his study, though the umbrella lined foyer, through the bare bone kitchen and into the massive walk in pantry in the back. By placing his fingers at an exact split in the cherrywood boards a small gap appeared in the wall into which he slipped through and into a small well lit room that had a simple desk overflowing with computer hardware.
He sat at a simple but comfortable chair and activated his personal terminal. ?Records. Yamu.? Please let me be wrong?please don?t make me do this?
A very familiar automated voice came from the speakers of his terminal. ?Yamu. Fighter Class: Alpha Class Minus. Possibility: Shows strong Omega Class potential??
The computer rattled as all the known files and some of the key pictures on record were displayed. There was no mistaking it?Yamu had re-appeared on the System. Which meant he had to do something he had rather not?
Yamu tore through the brush enraged at his own decline. He had fallen from a state of self-created grace and he hated himself for it. The tree?s sap was a poor substitute for blood, and he began to feel the bloodlust that had once made him the second most feared man among the Nine Pits. The intoxicating rush of primal exaltation that was only achieved when a whole infinity of possibilities were smashed out of existence by your own hands. The quenching of a carnal desire to kill that could get so intense that the release after bashing an opponent?s skull in with a rock would make any woman?s company pale to a ghostly white by comparison.
He felt that way again, adrenaline pumped itself faster then his body could replace it, tensing his muscles like a snake about to strike, sending his heartbeat racing and his irises widening, letting him get a keener look at all around him.
He was an animal in a human?s body, he was rage and wrath wrapped in skin and given a weapon?a weapon he badly wanted to use.
?Shit?is this asshole going to run into somebody anytime soon? People don?t wanna see trees?? one irritated producer mentioned in the control room.
?Hey?is he headed where I think he?s headed?? The head director asked looking at the current locations of all the remaining participants.
?Yep?I wanna see what that guy can do??
?Five bucks he drops in his first fight??
?You?re on!?
His name was Herald Humes Sinclair. He had left the Complete Works of William Shakespeare open, a play left unfinished for the first time in twenty three years, seven months, and twenty one days.
He rushed out of his study, though the umbrella lined foyer, through the bare bone kitchen and into the massive walk in pantry in the back. By placing his fingers at an exact split in the cherrywood boards a small gap appeared in the wall into which he slipped through and into a small well lit room that had a simple desk overflowing with computer hardware.
He sat at a simple but comfortable chair and activated his personal terminal. ?Records. Yamu.? Please let me be wrong?please don?t make me do this?
A very familiar automated voice came from the speakers of his terminal. ?Yamu. Fighter Class: Alpha Class Minus. Possibility: Shows strong Omega Class potential??
The computer rattled as all the known files and some of the key pictures on record were displayed. There was no mistaking it?Yamu had re-appeared on the System. Which meant he had to do something he had rather not?
Yamu tore through the brush enraged at his own decline. He had fallen from a state of self-created grace and he hated himself for it. The tree?s sap was a poor substitute for blood, and he began to feel the bloodlust that had once made him the second most feared man among the Nine Pits. The intoxicating rush of primal exaltation that was only achieved when a whole infinity of possibilities were smashed out of existence by your own hands. The quenching of a carnal desire to kill that could get so intense that the release after bashing an opponent?s skull in with a rock would make any woman?s company pale to a ghostly white by comparison.
He felt that way again, adrenaline pumped itself faster then his body could replace it, tensing his muscles like a snake about to strike, sending his heartbeat racing and his irises widening, letting him get a keener look at all around him.
He was an animal in a human?s body, he was rage and wrath wrapped in skin and given a weapon?a weapon he badly wanted to use.
![[Image: Yamusig3copy.jpg]](http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e227/Wyled/Yamusig3copy.jpg)
Dante's Abyss 2007 Runner-Up