The Lord of the Wastelands || Self-para
TW: dissociation, violence, terrorism
The feeling was similar to when he was angry beyond reason. The rage disconnected his mind from his body, and there was an inexplicable peace. The constant noise in his head was gone and his goal was clear, as he drove a blade between the ribs of his victim.Â
Except... this time it wasnât rage. Not really. He actually thought it might be something closer to childish excitement. Why wouldnât he be? He held a secret that only he knew: Bombs were to be placed in the emergeny facilities of the hospital and the tracks of the train stations in the Hive and the City.
He wondered how many nameless souls would never see another sunrise because of him. This power, which left a sweet taste in his mouth, put him in a good mood. When Calypso or even an acquaintance on the street asked him why, he answered vaguely, âWhy not?âÂ
He knew he could tell the others, and they would think he had finally gone mad, spewing conspiracy theories. Given his reputation, it wouldnât be such a far fetched idea --Â But, that didnât mean he would just run his mouth everywhere he went. ( Why ruin a GOOD surprise? )
He didnât particularly like Cosima or her pointless, evil plans, but he liked what he got out of them. The little piece of freedom he gave up for this power was satisfying, and he remained indifferent to her manipulative and selfish ways.
Soundtrack: God of Thunder by Kiss
The hospital was first. He laid low in an abandoned apartment nearby. He watched the nurses and doctors come and go, and when he determined that the time was right, the sun was well on its way down. He moved quickly into the emergency facilities behind the police station. He was unnoticed, but he gripped his backpack tightly anyway. Once he was inside of the storage room, he peered inside the bag. There was no movie-like red digits screaming its countdown at Micah. No, he controlled the bomb, the size of the explosion and the time it went off.Â
Making the bombs was easy enough. Cosima had given him resources to make them, and it was just like putting a puzzle together with some directions here and there. The vendors of raw materials remained anonymous and so did he. Now, one of the bombs weighed down his hand. He ripped strips of duct tape with his teeth and made a small cocoon with them for the bomb to lie inside. He then knocked down the weak plaster wall to his left with his elbow and secured the duct tape cocoon on the inside of the unharmed wall, leaving it out of sight. Then, he carefully moved the shelf of medical supplies to cover the hole.
A puzzled nurse, who had heard the ruckus, tried to enter the room, but he grabbed her by the collar and yanked her inside. âScream and you die, got it?â She shook in his hands, although she remained silent. He pointed at the roll of tape on the ground, and without saying a word, she placed a piece over her mouth. Micahâs body blockaded the door, so she couldnât run off. He snatched the tape from her hands and immobilized her hands and feet.
Now that everything was done, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and winked at the nurse, who was looking at him with round, terror-filled eyes. He heard the door close with a satisfying click as he walked away. It didnât matter if they came in and found the bound nurse. It was too late. In less than 15 minutes, the whole ward would be in flames.
When he was a safe distance away and he heard security guards finally running up to catch him, he pressed the remote controlled button in his hands. There was no immediate reaction which made him scowl, but finally he could feel the heat of the explosion on his back, to which he said to himself with a smile, â There it is.â
The train stations in the Hive and the City were easier. The stations were void of people once the train left for the other city, so he sauntered towards the tracks from where he had hidden, paying no attention to the security cameras and laid the bombs on the monorail.
Both times, at the Hive and at the Cityâs stations, he watched from afar as a train sped towards the station, unsuspecting of its grim future. He chose that moment to press the button, and there was a small pop before a cacophony of bomb exploding, train crashing, people screaming, and fires starting filled his ears. The second time was just as pleasurable as the first, and he screamed and whooped both times before shrinking back into the shadows.
Welcome to the Wastelands, you hopeless fuckers.
