Wrath of a Warlord(Ch. 1 of 2)

[This blog is no longer cannon to my main plot. It's just here because I haven't done anything as Wrath for a while, and I want to write the second part to this.]


"We don't need you anymore, Wrath."







"I don't need you either. Leave like the rest of them, see if I give a fuck."



Mitchel Blade. Escaped convict. FBI's most wanted. War criminal. Wanted for: War crimes, murder; first and second degree, rape, public indecency, robbery, grand theft auto, murder of a police officer, human trafficking, drug trafficking, gun trafficking, vandalism, kidnapping, sexual assault, manslaughter; voluntary and involuntary, possession, and disturbing the peace. Once he was the devil of New York. Love calmed him down. He started living comfortably. Then love left him. Suddenly he had nothing. He was a regular sack of shit working a shit job, and earning shit pay for a shit life. Now? Well, just look at him.


Wrath stands straight as he looks himself in the bathroom mirror. He's in his usual suit and tie, but there a few things different. He isn't carrying his new pistols given to him by his great grandson. He only has one silver plated .500 magnum tucked under his arm. There's something bugging him. People. They're always trying to play the unfortunate hero. Someone who grows up killing a few people, then finds god or some stupid shit, and starts fighting for their own personal gain. Their own personal gain somehow turns out to be protecting someone, and then BAM. A hero is born out of an asshole.

Wrath's guilty of the same thing. He murdered, raped, and sold people off to the worst types of men. He looses no sleep over it. Then he fell in love, and suddenly this asshole of a man is doing good. Was his story supposed to end when the girl dies though? Was he supposed to die with her, and they'd go down as the most romantic story of two psychopaths falling in love? Maybe, but there's one thing they seem to forget. Wrath's red eyes focus in on themselves as he looks at the mirror. "You can't fucking kill me." 

The poisonous entity exits the bathroom and heads to where he is needed. Interrogation. Not for the police, but for his own business. He enters a room with one man chained into a chair. He's been tortured for the past several hours. "My hero, you're going to have to tell me where the rest of you are. No one steals my property, and expects to get away with it." The beaten man looks to Wrath through swollen eyes, and spits, "She's not your property! Consider yourself luck-" "Sh, don't talk. I have a gift for you. Bring her in." 

At that moment the door to the dark room is opened again, and a woman is dragged into the room. Aside from a hit on the head, she doesn't appear to have been harmed. Upon seeing her, the man in the chair tries to lash out at Wrath, but fails to do so. "You son of a bitch! I'll kill you!" Wrath passes in front of the woman and looks down to her. "You aren't going to do shit. This is my game, kid. I know how to make everyone scream. Bring me a shotgun." He's silent for a while, and all that can be heard in the room is the panting of the man, and a few whimpers from the woman. 

"You know, I was in that same seat as you sometime ago. So madly in love, and she was perfect. She had better plans though. Or something, I don't know, she ate a bullet. Now here I am." A man brings in the shotgun to Wrath, then leaves the room. Holding the shotgun in one hand, he reaches into his pocket and takes out two shells. "It's all quite useless really. You try try try, and you nearly become perfect for this person. At least they think you are. Then you make one choice. One fucking mistake, and that's it. All the time you spent building something is destroyed due to a single flaw. Raping women is much easier. You're just there for yourself, and then you get to play with a life after it all. Maybe even birth a new hero out of it." The two shotgun shells are loaded, and he pumps it.

"Don't think I'm calm right now. I'm actually really fucking mad." He brings up the shotgun in both hands and aims to the woman's head. "Look at her and promise her it's going to be okay. Remind her of some stupid shit dream of having that baby and living happily ever after. Do it." "Get that gun away from her! I'm going to fucking kill you!" "Wrong answer you sack of shit!" Wrath aims low, and shoots a slug round into the woman's stomach. "You lost the kid now, but maybe you could still save her! Promise her! Look her in the fucking eyes and tell her it's going to be okay!" The man is broken now, his unborn child splattered across the floor and his wife in desperate need of medical attention. "I'll tell you-just please let her live.. Kill me instead, she doesn't deserve this... I'm sorry, Kimb-" Another shotgun slug passes through the woman's head, splattering brains and bone fragments across the floor.

He's numb, and Wrath walks in front of the broken man. "Oh, don't cry. She was worthless anyways, not sure who would've paid to fuck her. Look at me. Understand this. All heroes end here. If you want to take one of my girls because you fell so madly in love with them, here's my message. Fuck you, and fuck your love story. You ass-hats want a villain? A bastard? Here I am, and this is my city." Wrath tosses the shotgun aside, and takes out his KA-BAR. After grabbing a handful of the man's hair, he begins to saw through his neck to cut off his head. He could easily have cut it off in one swipe of the blade, but he decides not to. He drops the head, and leaves the room.



"Display the bodies in the square, and keep tracking my property."



"I'm going to beat her fucking face in when I get a hold of her."

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