Emperor's Reign

Author's Note: Enjoy the poem and R&R.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the House of the Dead series.

Summary:

A poem based on the short-lived rule of the Emperor, set during The House of the Dead 2.

The wait is over. His steel womb is shattered by vivified awareness' lightning, Goldman's recrimination.
Aqueous ruler, levitated by programmed grandeur, decrees end times toward the foolhardy humans.
Destruction before spite. Much too hasty is the creature's call for the species' damnable extinction.
Monometallic orbs relayed a quincunx orbit. The dread empyrean revolves around a new gravitic center.
Mucilaginous lance drawn. Translucent death charging an umbrella-point upon the shooters' ire.
Flexuous courses of infinity. Serum-gathered trinity.
Servants born his unfixed, transient protoplasm.

Confluent lights flick remade Judgment forward, side-to-side skull bash removed executioner's axe.
Hierophant's claw-licked high jump leap. Spear vault and falling impalement.
Tower's plagiarized roar, its four mindless clanmates no more.
Faceless Strength's fearsome overhead chop.

Transforming king rises off, superciliously beyond the spectrum of the unbowed delegation.
Atoms energize, disappearing the manufactured, malleable monarch, save his spinning red heart.
A nucleus of roving erasure patrols the roof. Evasive in assailment. Intransigent in indictment.
Beams scathe hotter than the culpable sparks present at creation.
Goldman lauds his masterwork capable. Yet, dethroned, the lord flies into the distance and explodes.
He communicates calm, warning his friends a successor cometh, then ejects himself from the building.
What did he mean? They needn't mull three years to discover the truth behind his words and the world.

I am…I am…Alpha, born once, to protect the life cycle of nature. The task man defaulted on.

I rule over nature and shall hate mankind. What is it hate mankind, but to rule over nature?

So disgustingly adherent, original sin.