Angelus Errare
Banned
Broken but not defeated, George sat up on his bed and decided to seek help from a legendary slayer. Determined to beat the neghrost of Martin, he moved to the computer desk that sat across from his bed.
"If there's anyone that can help me, it's him." George thought to himself
He did a search for John Henry Spooner a slayer who was able to defeat one of the neghrost commanders who had an entire county under his thrall by use of rwanda apparition psychosis music that they would play from their cars at regular intervals. The result was that more and more upstanding citizens were being neghrostfied and spreading the word of O'bama.
"No, this can't be" George remarked as he read article after article. His eyes zipped across the web pages as Spooner's name was slandered and destroyed
"76-year-old man to stand trial in shooting death of 13-year-old boy." article after article read.
"This man is to be seen as a hero not condemeed as a petty criminal! Do you people truly not understand what is at stake here?!" George's shouts into the monitor were met with no response save for the whirring of his computer's fans. If Spooner could be brought down by O'bama and his army, was there truly any hope?
It finally sunk in for George, the life of a slayer is truly a thankless job. His grandfather was right, while they were purging the world of the neghrosts. As long as they captured the hearts of others they would never truly be free of them. Their power over mysterious colored hazes and use of their rwanda apparition psychosis music had enslaved millions of his fellow people.
"Is this the power and reach of O'bama? Is his army and control of neghrosts this absolute?!" There must be a way to stop him.
George stared at the articles in disbelief, he could feel the anger building inside of him demanding the blood of a thousand neghrost vessels."
In his moment of doubt George decided to research how the world viewed him and searched his name online. Page after page he was met with insults and pictures of Martin being reveled as a hero slain, a life taken too early. George stared at disbelief as he viewed videos and pictures of his fellow people crying and protesting in Martin's name.
"Just how powerful is Martin compared to other neghrosts?!" George thought.
He had slain nearly hundreds in the past but none of them were mourned, none of them were missed. He was seen as a hero in his neighborhood and set up a slayer watch that garnered a following.
The pictures and videos taunted George, he could feel Martin watching him. Watching him in his moment of weakness. He knew Martin was in the room with him, but could do nothing but watch as George had Whitus Privilegus permeating the entire building.
"Hear me neghrost spawn, I will defeat you and there is nothing you can do to stop me. What you've done tonight was simply a minor setback." he said between his teeth, I saved that white family who's life you tried to end by flipping their vehicle. I will stop you, and I will end your master O'bama!"
A fierce wind could be heard from outside, George smiled as he realized he had gotten to Martin.
He let out a laugh, "Your petty wind tricks do nothing for me neghrost, I will save my family. I will save the Whitus people!"
George's phone vibrated on his desk as he spoke. Checking to see who it was, his face went white with fear. It was a message from O'bama himself.
"Your hell has only just begun." the message read.
Stumbling back in his chair he quickly turned off the phone completely before throwing it across his bed. As quickly as he did that he received an email on his computer, checking the computer George began to shake with anger and fear. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a slender white object. George used his grandfather's cigar lighter to light the object in his hand and brought it towards his mouth. However he stopped himself before he could commit and stared in horror at what was in his hand.
It was a joint! Not just any joint but rather the same kind that Martin had used. George ran into the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet.
"How is this possible!?" George shrieked.
"How did that get into my hand? I do not remember every acquiring that! Is my Whitus Privilegus powers failing me?!" He ran his hands through his hair and paced within his bathroom.
Splashing water onto his face, George looked at his reflection in the mirror
"Can O'bama and his people truly take over this country?!" he asked himself as he stared back down at the water circling within his white sink.
"Yes.we.can." said a raspy yet soothing voice whispering into his ear.
George could feel his eyes get heavy as the words swirled around in his head and he could feel his legs weak, George could feel his slayer powers leaving him.
Then music began to played, quiet at first but progressively getting louder. It played all around him, the words repeated themselves over and over again in some sort of demonic chant.
"I was born by the river, In a little tent, and o just like that river I've been running ever since. It's been a long long time coming, but I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will." played the song, its tunes reverberating throughout his sanctuary. Windows began to shatter and his weaponry and gear began to catch fire, various colored hazes began to collect within the kitchen.
George could feel his grip on the sink weaken, without his slayer abilities his senses were dull. He slowly pulled himself up and looked into the mirror and saw not his reflection...but O'bama himself staring back at him.
George was now looking at the very essence of O'bama himself. There was nothing his Whitus Privilegus powers could do to prevent O'bama from appearing.and for the first time George felt fear he felt the 1000 years of Darkness surrounding him.
"If there's anyone that can help me, it's him." George thought to himself
He did a search for John Henry Spooner a slayer who was able to defeat one of the neghrost commanders who had an entire county under his thrall by use of rwanda apparition psychosis music that they would play from their cars at regular intervals. The result was that more and more upstanding citizens were being neghrostfied and spreading the word of O'bama.
"No, this can't be" George remarked as he read article after article. His eyes zipped across the web pages as Spooner's name was slandered and destroyed
"76-year-old man to stand trial in shooting death of 13-year-old boy." article after article read.
"This man is to be seen as a hero not condemeed as a petty criminal! Do you people truly not understand what is at stake here?!" George's shouts into the monitor were met with no response save for the whirring of his computer's fans. If Spooner could be brought down by O'bama and his army, was there truly any hope?
It finally sunk in for George, the life of a slayer is truly a thankless job. His grandfather was right, while they were purging the world of the neghrosts. As long as they captured the hearts of others they would never truly be free of them. Their power over mysterious colored hazes and use of their rwanda apparition psychosis music had enslaved millions of his fellow people.
"Is this the power and reach of O'bama? Is his army and control of neghrosts this absolute?!" There must be a way to stop him.
George stared at the articles in disbelief, he could feel the anger building inside of him demanding the blood of a thousand neghrost vessels."
In his moment of doubt George decided to research how the world viewed him and searched his name online. Page after page he was met with insults and pictures of Martin being reveled as a hero slain, a life taken too early. George stared at disbelief as he viewed videos and pictures of his fellow people crying and protesting in Martin's name.
"Just how powerful is Martin compared to other neghrosts?!" George thought.
He had slain nearly hundreds in the past but none of them were mourned, none of them were missed. He was seen as a hero in his neighborhood and set up a slayer watch that garnered a following.
The pictures and videos taunted George, he could feel Martin watching him. Watching him in his moment of weakness. He knew Martin was in the room with him, but could do nothing but watch as George had Whitus Privilegus permeating the entire building.
"Hear me neghrost spawn, I will defeat you and there is nothing you can do to stop me. What you've done tonight was simply a minor setback." he said between his teeth, I saved that white family who's life you tried to end by flipping their vehicle. I will stop you, and I will end your master O'bama!"
A fierce wind could be heard from outside, George smiled as he realized he had gotten to Martin.
He let out a laugh, "Your petty wind tricks do nothing for me neghrost, I will save my family. I will save the Whitus people!"
George's phone vibrated on his desk as he spoke. Checking to see who it was, his face went white with fear. It was a message from O'bama himself.
"Your hell has only just begun." the message read.
Stumbling back in his chair he quickly turned off the phone completely before throwing it across his bed. As quickly as he did that he received an email on his computer, checking the computer George began to shake with anger and fear. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a slender white object. George used his grandfather's cigar lighter to light the object in his hand and brought it towards his mouth. However he stopped himself before he could commit and stared in horror at what was in his hand.
It was a joint! Not just any joint but rather the same kind that Martin had used. George ran into the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet.
"How is this possible!?" George shrieked.
"How did that get into my hand? I do not remember every acquiring that! Is my Whitus Privilegus powers failing me?!" He ran his hands through his hair and paced within his bathroom.
Splashing water onto his face, George looked at his reflection in the mirror
"Can O'bama and his people truly take over this country?!" he asked himself as he stared back down at the water circling within his white sink.
"Yes.we.can." said a raspy yet soothing voice whispering into his ear.
George could feel his eyes get heavy as the words swirled around in his head and he could feel his legs weak, George could feel his slayer powers leaving him.
Then music began to played, quiet at first but progressively getting louder. It played all around him, the words repeated themselves over and over again in some sort of demonic chant.
"I was born by the river, In a little tent, and o just like that river I've been running ever since. It's been a long long time coming, but I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will." played the song, its tunes reverberating throughout his sanctuary. Windows began to shatter and his weaponry and gear began to catch fire, various colored hazes began to collect within the kitchen.
George could feel his grip on the sink weaken, without his slayer abilities his senses were dull. He slowly pulled himself up and looked into the mirror and saw not his reflection...but O'bama himself staring back at him.
George was now looking at the very essence of O'bama himself. There was nothing his Whitus Privilegus powers could do to prevent O'bama from appearing.and for the first time George felt fear he felt the 1000 years of Darkness surrounding him.
