A dark force splattered the walls with gore. Elongated white remains littered the floor, that the Legionnaire deliberately trod on as he approached the two trembling women.
"So you thought you could infiltrate my fortress, steal my source of power, and waltz out, just because you hid behind the so called 'hero'?" he snarled. His voice was as cold as liquid nitrogen, unforgiving as steel, and the two women trembled before his wrath.
"You thought wrong."
Darkness swirled around him, an almost physical manifestation that filled the air with fear. A maniacal laugh, followed by two shrill screams that were suddenly muffled.
Then the moans began.
777
The Legionnaire.
Some say he was the Anti-Christ, come to rain destruction upon the earth and punish the unbelievers. (Unbelievers of what, no one was really sure, since the Legionnaire and his forces killed all in their way.)
Some say he was a demon, born from the depths of hell, his only purpose to spread carnage and chaos.
The truth of his origin, as found out by a young hacker who was killed before he could make his announcement, was much more simple.
At the age of seven, the Legionnaire and seventy other children were abducted from their homes to be used as test subjects in an supersoldier program, an effort to produce elite soldiers through mechanical and biological augmentation. Selected for their general superior genetics, all of them were stronger, faster, and smarter than the average human. Their psionic ability was off the charts; telepathy, levitation, mind control; all of them could do these. At the age of seventeen, they underwent a severe genetical augmentation process that left all of them dead, save him, the only survivor. When the scientists in charge of the project saw him for the first time after the augmentation, they were rendered speechless by a combination of fascination and horror.
His body was now that of a professional wrestler. Corded veins of muscle ran through his right arm, while his left had been entirely replaced by a bionic limb. Various implements were attached to it. A buzzsaw. An electric welder. A blowtorch. An arm cannon. A vibroblade. A sonic blaster. A nerve impulse inhabitor. These were just a few of the weapons available to him. His bones had literally grown out of his body, forming a calcium-iron exoskeleton that regenerated as it was chipped away, be it by bullet fire or natural causes. His psionic power had literally transcended his body. In post augmentation tests, he could lift a fully loaded helicopter a kilometer away using nothing but his mind, and had only gotten stronger as he got more used to his new body.
There were other, more subtle changes as well. His eyes were drained of their pigmentation, leaving only a blood red iris behind. A permanent snarl was affixed on his face, where before, he had been relatively well tempered. And the maniacal laughter flowing forth from his mouth was a clear sign to the scientists that all was not well. They quickly ordered the experiment shut down and the 'test subject' neutralized.
Of course, that didn't sit well with the Legionnaire. When they tried to kill him, he unleashed a wave of pure psionic fury that leveled the complex, leaving him free from the shackles of the body, but not of his mind. You see, he had already hypothesized that he was better than those 'normal' human beings, and killing a large number of them with so little effort had merely proven his point. Thus, he came to the conclusion that there was only one goal worth working forward to.
World domination.
777
The Legionnaire strode into his war room, wiping a small stain of blood from his mouth.
"Report."
The four figures in front of him bowed. They were his own creations, and each time he looked at them, he felt a small sense of pride. Bionic creations using dead bodies, they were the pinnacle of technology with a human brain, and a human personality, modified to remove the part of the brain that held the human conscience. All looked human; none, in effect, were.
After all, you can't kill something that is already dead.
They were the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse.
Famine. A Head Hunter, Blade Combat Specialist, Sniper Expert
Plague. A Warrior of Pestilence, Technology Expert, Poisons/Acids/Decomposition
War. A Walking Tank, Heavy Artillery Specialist
Death. A Psionic Phenom, Master Assassin.
Famine spoke first.
"Master, we have identified the last remaining bastion of the rebels." she said, raising a fist and opening it slowly. A holographic map blossomed forth, the last remaining continent on the Earth highlighted in red.
Africa.
"Well done, my brothers and sisters. Ready the troops."
"They already are, sire." said Plague in a quiet voice.
"Waiting outside the fortress, I might say." added War.
The Legionnaire grinned and moved to the balcony. Below him stretched a seething black mass of bodies. These were the men and women that had given up their humanity and joined the Legionnaire's forces, receiving genetic, bionic, and psionic implants and upgrades in return.
"Warriors!"
All movement stopped, and a million heads raised their eyes to the lone figure clad in black armor.
"Warriors, gather round! There will be no retreat, no surrender; that is our law. "
He pointed out into the distance.
"Those people outside our walls, they know NOTHING of us! They judge us by out appearances, they kicked us and spat on us; they made us their slaves. BUT NO LONGER! Today, we shall bring an end to them. An end to sadness. An end to anger. An end to envy. Today, my warriors, we hope that they have had a good breakfast, for tonight, they will dine in HELL!"
Cheers erupted from the crowd below, and he stepped back, smiling in satisfaction. Three horsemen had already left, leaving only Death.
The Legionnaire turned to her, still smiling.
"What is it?"
Death stepped forward, brushing her lips across his face, before looking from him to the door to the bedroom longingly.
"Later." he chuckled, placing his metal hand on the metallic skull half of her face.
Death pouted, stepped back through the curtain, and was gone, joining the other Horsemen on the frontline.
The Legionnaire smiled. Soon, the inferior race would be crushed. And Earth would be pure once again.
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