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Written by Guysponge22.


WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND COARSE LANGUAGE.


“Damn, we missed it!” a boy said. He was around sixteen, with uncombed spiky black hair, shining in the sunlight. He was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt, with a jacket that had a design similar to the Star, and had baggy-type jeans which showed some wear, as white spots were seen in some places. The more prominent feature was a birthmark near his nose, which was a Ω.

The other person with him was of a different story. He was thirteen, and had dark brown hair which looked freshly combed, which was also shining in the sunlight. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt, with a Ω pattern, and was skinny for his age. His pants looked newly bought, even though he’d had them for three years, as he cleaned it every day. Because of bad eyesight, he wore glasses, and had a permanent scar on his lip. “Really, Akon?” the other said. “Yes, Damian,” Akon replied, “and after all that… damn!”

They both noticed a desert city, and decided to go there. As they went closer, they realized it was the sand village, Balangra. “Hey, why not go there?” Damian asked, running to the city. Akon face-palmed and followed. As they were running, the city became more and more clear, and more like it had been told.

The city looked very rich, even though it had some poor families, and crowded areas. The buildings were all made of what looked like sandstone, with giant Mosques and and rich three-story houses. There was even a giant fountain full of clear, fresh water (which you of course couldn’t drink , but some children were playing in). But the Southern part of town was a different story. Buildings were old and oddly mossy, only one Mosque was there, areas looked overpopulated, and families were sleeping or resting on bed sheets.

“This is so odd,” Damian commented, “Everything became so... poor.” As they kept walking, they saw some protesters with signs: WE WANT FREEDOM, THE U.S. HAS IT AND WE SHOULD 2, FUCK THE GOVERNMENT.

“No shit,” Akon replied. They kept walking, as a building exploded, smoke going everywhere, while the military started shooting protesters. People screamed, when Damian immediately realized what was happening.

“The government is still killing these people!?” They both stayed where they were, as Akon stood still, reciting a few words: “Maka-moro-zumos!” He jumped high in the air, and kicked two men in the face. Other men started trying to shoot him, as Damian sent a wave of water in their way. More men came, trying to shoot the other protesters. “God is great,” one of them said. Yeah, Akon thought, more like, God is great, but these people must enter unholy punishment.

One of the men shot Akon in his right-arm, causing him to fall as his jacket stained red with his blood. “Gaaah-dammit!” He cried, “GO TO HELL!” He then said, “Uneko-lumos-lene-roronoa!” as sand formed into a giant hammer, smashing the guns of the armymen. They cried as Akon’s eyes became red, and his teeth became longer he has a killer smile. Damian looked in horror, realizing he reached a state no Natisalo would want.

“SO,” he said, in a deep, raspy, voice, “WHO WANTS TO PLAY BLOOD EVERYWHERE?!” He started reciting something Damian couldn’t hear, as the armymen started exploding, guts and blood going everywhere. He laughed crazily as Damian stared in utter horror.

Damian then recited something as sand rose up into a giant body, punching Akon to the ground. He cried, as he yelled, “BROTHER! STOP! STOOOOOOOOOP!”

Akon’s teeth grew shorter, as his appearance went back to normal. He went up, walking towards Damian. With all his might, he slapped him across the face.

“What was that for?!” Damian yelled. “For slapping me you dick!”

“Dude,” Damian replied angry, “You’re the one that fucking reached the seventh state of a Natisalo and went kill-happy.” Akon held his right arm, which was still bleeding. They both decided to spend the night at the local hospital, while a nurse questioned Damian’s birthmark.

“You’re a Natisalo, right?” He nodded, as Akon reserved a room. The TV was on, playing some news.

“In other news, a recent bombing occurred in the Southern area of Balangra. During this, it was stated two boys, aged around 14, had fought them, while the shorter one rose up in the sky as he so called ‘exploded some of the men at will’. These boys’ whereabouts are still unknown, but police are looking into the scene. Back to you Samin Chupra.”

Damian looked worried, but that didn’t surprise Akon. His arm stopped bleeding, and he felt fine. But when he heard what they said on the news, he was a bit disappointed in himself. He told Damian to leave him be for a sec, as he went to rest. Sadly, he was having the same nightmare for the fifth time. He felt lightweight. He was on the ship, big, old and smelly as hell. People were getting ready to leave, until a giant shadowy figure plagued the sky. People frantically yelled, as what looked like arms started surrounded the people, one at a time, soul after soul.

Akon tried to fly away, but was somehow caught by the shadows. Then, it talked, the same words, like it did every other time...

“Hello,” it said in it’s cold, raspy, hellish voice, “I hope you’re enjoying your time as a good little boy. Because sooner or later, you’ll have to give up the search-”

“Same damn words,” Akon muttered. That seemed to get the shadow’s attention. He squeezed Akon like a chew toy, as it seemed his soul was starting to be drained. “Don’t mock me, boy. We don’t want your brother in this mess, do we?” Akon got pissed, yelling at it, “Don’t bring Damian into this damn mess.” The being laughed, as it’s face revealed itself for a second: sunken, blank eyes, a wrinkled face to the extreme and a mouth so bare you couldn’t see inside.

“Whoops,” it said, “But don’t forget our little deal, otherwise someone goes to heaven early.” It then let go of Akon as his weightless dream self fell into the-

He woke up. His sweat poured as he looked around the room. Nobody, he thought, it was just a dream. Otherwise someone goes to heaven a little early, he remembered. Fuck, why can’t I do anything to stop that thing? If I don’t Damian ‘ll die. DAMMIT, he kept thinking, so useless!

Damian came into the room, albeit shocked. “It’s 3:45 in the morning!” he exclaimed, “You aren’t asleep?” Akon looked at his brother, confused.

“Why the heck are you up?” he asked. Damian laughed, realizing Akon didn’t curse. He sat on the chair near his brother, and asked him a question he had on his mind. “Are we ever gonna go back?” he asked, softly. Akon looked down, and answered with distaste.

“I can’t answer,” he said, “‘cause I don’t know.” Damian looked down, and left. He decided he’d come back to visit, and that he’d stay at a nearby hotel. As he said goodbye, Akon went to sleep.

Only, he didn’t sleep long. Ten minutes in, he heard a loud explosion nearby. He ran out, hoping it wasn’t the hotel Damian was staying in. Crap, he thought, don’t jinx it.

Well, he jinxed it. The hotel was under attack by a traitor Natisalo: Brex. Brex was part of the Natisalo, one of the Seven Best. But after twelve years, he betrayed the Natisalo and committed a mass murder, killing 44. Ironically, he looked better than ever. He had combed hair, his eye scar was healing, and he was dressed in typical clothing. Too bad he was evil.

“‘Aye Brex,” he said sarcastically, “how’ve ya been?” Brex looked at him and simply smirked.

“Good,” he said, “hey, do you want to help? Oh wait, you’re still a Natisalo. Heard your brother was here, so I wanted to pay a little... visit.” He gave a crooked smile as he threw shuriken at Akon. Akon dodged them as he jumped to Brex and kicked his face. Brex landed as sand went around him, and swerved sand near Akon. The sand blinded him.

“Shit,” I said, “This motherfucker is strong.” I looked at the rubble from the hotel, seeing an unconscious Damian. SHIT, I thought, Damian hold on. I tried to distract Brex with Sand Soldiers while I was getting my brother. “Damian, Damian. I will kick your ass if you don’t wake up!” I looked back, looking at the destruction. I’ll be back bro, I thought.

As I finally caught up to him, something wasn’t right. I looked around, okay, the abandoned part of the city... but, why is that guy there? I decided not to ask questions, so I kept after Brex. Well, I thought.

That guy I had seen? He was a friend of Brex, another vigilante; and it looked like he wasn’t too happy that I was trying to kill his friend. As I listened, he had a weird, almost loose-but-strong Arabian accent. He looked up at me, and brought katana’s out.

“You lookin’ for a fight?” I asked. “Don’t fuck with my friends,” he replied. Sorry, I thought. I went to punch him, and all hell broke loose...

END OF PILOT TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK.

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