Post by Deathscythe on Aug 19, 2007 11:58:43 GMT -5
He'd never experienced such.. war. Such a fight that so many were died and it gave the graveyard of Gundams and Mobile Suits an eerie, twisted, sick feeling. Usually battle brought a light to the world, it made him feel alive.. but this, this.. was wrong. It felt wrong, it looked wrong and hell, the air tasted wrong.
The battle with Epyon was nothing short of in vain, for both of their deaths. Hunter had been convinced it would have been a beautiful, glorious death.. he never was so wrong. Defiance was a word tossed around too easily, but his giving his own life to not bow down to the enemy was nothing but pure to the word.
The Gundam Deathscythe lay in a few small pieces, along with Epyon. Perhaps its shoulder, knee cap and scythe still existing, also apparent was the small cockpit buried into the ground. The seal was cracked open, completely revealing the inside where there was.. no one. No corpse, no blood, just a cracked helmet. Even from such an explosion, any sign of death should have been seen but it wasn't.
Hunter died beautifully. The last moments of his life were nothing short of a feeling of trinity in his soul. The body, the man, the soul, trudged on without a name. Dead to the world Hunter was, but the previous owner of that name still existed. The red bandana gone from his face, long brown hair draped over both his shoulders and his neck.
He lay upon the ground, helpless, not moving. Oblivious to the world around him as he was stuck in a world of translucent dreams and thoughts. Perhaps, a coma. His location was a hospital in the antarctic, after the battle a neutral Sweeper Group member had come through picking him up along with the few pieces left of Deathscythe Hell Custom. The man's name was Howard, a balding man wearing black glasses with a pink Hawaiian shirt and short tan shorts.
Howard it seemed had known a bit about this situation, knowing immediately what to do with Hunter as he fled from the area to hide him. Far from good condition the pilot of Deathscythe was in, ribs bandaged up, forehead bandaged up, IV's up and down his left and right arms. His left ankle was broken, his collar bone fractured. 4 ruptured discs along his back and a concussion to boot. All he could was rest and wait, biding his time before the God of Death was back.. though this time.. He was Dead to the World.
The battle with Epyon was nothing short of in vain, for both of their deaths. Hunter had been convinced it would have been a beautiful, glorious death.. he never was so wrong. Defiance was a word tossed around too easily, but his giving his own life to not bow down to the enemy was nothing but pure to the word.
The Gundam Deathscythe lay in a few small pieces, along with Epyon. Perhaps its shoulder, knee cap and scythe still existing, also apparent was the small cockpit buried into the ground. The seal was cracked open, completely revealing the inside where there was.. no one. No corpse, no blood, just a cracked helmet. Even from such an explosion, any sign of death should have been seen but it wasn't.
Hunter died beautifully. The last moments of his life were nothing short of a feeling of trinity in his soul. The body, the man, the soul, trudged on without a name. Dead to the world Hunter was, but the previous owner of that name still existed. The red bandana gone from his face, long brown hair draped over both his shoulders and his neck.
He lay upon the ground, helpless, not moving. Oblivious to the world around him as he was stuck in a world of translucent dreams and thoughts. Perhaps, a coma. His location was a hospital in the antarctic, after the battle a neutral Sweeper Group member had come through picking him up along with the few pieces left of Deathscythe Hell Custom. The man's name was Howard, a balding man wearing black glasses with a pink Hawaiian shirt and short tan shorts.
Howard it seemed had known a bit about this situation, knowing immediately what to do with Hunter as he fled from the area to hide him. Far from good condition the pilot of Deathscythe was in, ribs bandaged up, forehead bandaged up, IV's up and down his left and right arms. His left ankle was broken, his collar bone fractured. 4 ruptured discs along his back and a concussion to boot. All he could was rest and wait, biding his time before the God of Death was back.. though this time.. He was Dead to the World.