I looked back at the Empire State Building and laughed. I thought to myself, did anyone really stand a chance. My space station hovering about three hundred feet about the Empire State Building, was operating at full power. Everything was inplace for the destruction of New York City. I felt so confident that everything would go my way, that I decided to perhaps, backstab my stupid friends, and take all the glory for myself. I looked down at the control center from my personal sky deck. The imbciles down below wouldn't dare oppose me. I gambled with my thoughts, I looked at all the possible outcomes, practical or not. I had to many supporters on my side to be worried about anything. I decided to go for it.
I looked around me once more. Thomas Dunlav, one of my greatest supporters was tightening some bolts around the stations compass. He was smart, smart enough to realize what I could potentially do. I had to get rid of him. He was to much of a danger to me, and my bold plans. I walked over to my armour rack. I equiped myself with two ray pistols. A heavy chaingun, and a combat suit. I looked down. My entire body was covered in the splender of my creations, My war suit. Before I let my thoughts catch up with me, I decided it was time to move out. Despite the fact I had as much millitary fighting experince as someone in a wheelchair since birth, I just did it.
Before I knew it my feet where in action, moving me in a staggered jog down towards Thomas. I lifted the chaingun, and drew a bead on his chest. I shot, leaving Thomas on the ground, panting like a very tired dog. I shot again, ensure a swift, painless death. I went rushing towards the elevator, and traveled down to the command deck. Seeing as I would be needing these pathetic labrats to be running my station, I skipped down one more flight to the cabin and hold. My rampage was legendary. Chaingun smoke and shells spread all over the place, leaving a trail of where I'd obviously been. My enemies didn't even have a prayer of hope to defeat me. Left and right their bodies littered the floor. I stopped momentarilly to think, who would clean this up. Then I burst into laughter and continued my rampage. I had become the very thing that I treated, a sick-sick man. I usually refered people this sick, to my hospital to check in for a while. However I was an exeption. I was Sinbad Gandulanc, the greatest of the great. I wouldn't be suppriesed if I got upstairs, and all of the stupid labrats in the command center, groveled at my feet, begging for mercy. A sinister simile broke out across my face. I was unstopable.
Moving faster and faster, the rate of dead bodies hitting the floor was quite discusting. The pearly white floors, where not pearly white anymore. I ran through my battle station like a trigger happy mad man. Actually, that is what I had become. However what is done is done, and could not be reversed. I had little remorse, but didn't show it. I decided I would go out with a bang. I took the elevator down the last floor, and ran to the amoury. As to be expected it was heavly guarded. I went in, guns ablazing, and my feet scrambling. I took care of all of the gaurds with the remaining ammunition of my chaingun. Throwing the gun off of me, I reached in my pockets for my pistols. I grapped my guns and shot the lock on the door. The door swept open and I shot.
My death was quick and very painless. Ironicly like just like Thomas Dunlav's. There was no one in the armoury. Just lots and lots of grenades. My pistols meet thier mark, straight into the heart of a crate of grenades. Just like my rath, the grenades were ruthless, and didn't stop for anything. They tore right through the armoury walls, and right through me. My reign of terror was over. I was no more. New York City was safe.
Life is full of hard times and good times. Lift your chin up, Ladies and Gentlemen.
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