"Earth Apple setting sun, you told me you were the one....."
I can't get the fucking song out of my head.....
Then again, any thoughts I have, I can't get out of my damn head.
And ya know, every time I go to talk....it just ends up as prolific gibberish, probably better off plastered on the walls of a sanatorium.
Maybe, just maybe, there's a reason for that.
Kreig's story isn't the tale of some majestic knight, parading in armor, preening while reciting his accomplishments, no. He's a simple infantry soldier. We're the psychos that run in troupes, packs of little monsters that couldn't escape the toll their little experiments took on us. For the longest while, Krieg fought the delirium that started to melt coherent thought. I had a Ph.D. in neurosciences. I attended university. Was promised a reprieve of everything that the war had to offer for the soft-minded fools. But he fed into the service before self foolery of the military, and he forgot the pains of what he saw during battle, working to continue on in his life. His only dream was to father a few children, dote on a wife, and grow fat as he watched his offspring get tall.
I was an imbecile to think any of that was something I'd be lucky enough to have.
My body took the brunt and painted me with the blush of a raving lunatic.
Now, I only spout the devil's morbid words in a twisted immoral phrasing.
But his mind is very much in the present, capable of function as it once did. Capable of living through the chaos he so gleefully chooses to partake in.
My wife use to day I was one of the most handsome bastards to roam the lands...
Once upon a ....a...
"STRIP THE FLESH AND SALT THE WOUND!!"
-"Shoot Him Already, He's got a fucking broken leg, like the shit you see on a lame horse."-
As Krieg aged into his 20's, he started at a high-demand university. A string of pure luck in a lottery of the less fortunate. Lessons for a man that could swiftly gain notoriety in the world. Krieg swiftly made a name for himself as his residency facility refused to let him go. Hosting him, they quickly learned his ADHD, yet brilliant mind was a treasure, despite where he came from.
Day and night Krieg scrimped and saved so he could crawl out from who he was. But, when money didn't help, he found himself using more nefarious means to change his stars. Like ditching his former name, and joining the military.
Starting as the simple infantry soldier, Krieg found himself taking on additional bounties to save his family from being another statistic of a quickly crumbling economy. He couldn't live with them, and they couldn't live in the barracks.
Vault hunting was decent enough to keep a roof and a few beds, food on the table.
Was he supposed to keep a family? No.
But it was noticed. Ignored for his skills of hunting man and eliminating enemies for the greater good, the government drafted Krieg into the Crimson Raiders. They feared his fall into the hands of a militia, or worse.
For a while, there was a stint of pride in his work. After all, he'd been charged with leading a forward scouting team. Tasked with reporting to the rear, enemy line placements were soon obliterated, and battles were easily won.
But...not all military careers are the extensive and lengthy tours that you see in those 'Your country needs you!' brochures. Stars and officer ranks were far out of reach for these heroes. For Krieg.
When soldiers dropped like flies after one particularly nasty round of government exploitation, the military forever labeled his unit as recuses monkeys, to live out the horrors only they could dream of.
Krieg's unit was intentionally exposed to everything known to man.
Eventually, they ventured to chemical warfare testing and exposed every last one of them to a form of gas that permeated their entirety...changing and morphing everything about them.
Unassisted in barren land there was nothing else left.
Abandoned by his nation, his comrades, and his family, Krieg realized that the death of his platoon and an obliterated biological family wasn't worth the tears.
Gone were the smiling faces of his wife and two microcopies...
"OVER HERE, MY SWEET MEATS, YOUR PRINCE OF JUSTICE AND GENOCIDE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY: Gone are the days of the tentacle and the age of the gods and mercy far away...We are fighters of the middle, the second act in the three-part MEAT play, and I WILL WIN BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR!"
It was time to start over.
Despite walking away, nothing ever indeed finished its torture.
Functionality slowed as Krieg began to spout off idiotic phrases without a shred of control. There was no off switch. A constant spattering of mashed letters occasionally conveyed messages, but the more straightforward means of communication were lost.
Krieg eventually became antithetical to his past.
What fractured remnant of his Ph.D. awarded psyche remained suddenly became an inner voice.
"I can't see her anymore... She was so clear and bright... but the blood is in my eyes, and now I can only watch the ocean of blood... Its waves crash against my forehead again and again, AND I JUST NEED TO LEARN HOW TO SURF!!"
34 years old.
Romantically prefers women, but will fuck anyone for the sake of fun.
Weapon of choice: Saw on a stick.
Must be over 21.
Novella to Multi Para
I ain't your next IRL romance.
I come and go as I please.
Plot Preferences: Gore, war, romance, vault hunters, bounty hunters. I don't get phased by much.... Surprise me, but I am not going to have him fuck 24/7. Give a man's dick a break every once in a while.