Malakai's POV
Sometimes I wonder how people knowingly underestimate the inventions of mankind.
The modern world has developed into a realm so advanced that there is now talk about our so called 'brilliant' inventions turning against us. AI's becoming so intellectual that they'll simply over throw the natural state of human minds.
I swear if a technologically advanced robot came charging at me with a knife, I'd shoot its brains out, crush its metallic body into pieces and shape it into a table where I would then proceed to fuck a plethora of women on top of it. And I'd do it while all its little robotic friends watch.
Humans are becoming too curious for their own good. Creating these advanced structures, programming them to do ordinary jobs, spending millions upon billions to force something unnatural into our world. It's a load of bullshit.
It's what humans do. Create more problems for their future offspring to deal with. Spend more money than what their minds can fathom.
I stand by my word were I believe that mankind will take it too far, use up what the earth's resources have to offer and set ourselves back thousands of years. I'm fucking grateful that I won't be here to see things go that far but I will sure as hell be booming out laughs, as I sit in hell and watch the world turn to shit.
You see, I'm saddened over that fact that people have forgot how to feel grateful for the ancient sort of technology. Like this knife I'm holding in my hand.
Developed solely for hunting, for protection. Survival of the fittest, you could say.
I find it fascinating how this thin piece of metal with slice through the delicate flesh of a human. You would think after years upon years of battles with these weapons that humans would evolve to develop rougher skin. To my benefit, they haven't.
So, as I turn on my selective hearing and decide to drown out the pathetic screams of this imbecile before me, I instead, choose to focus on the ripping sound of his muscle tissue as I drag the knife through his skin.
It's a beautiful sight to see actually. Crimson red blood sputtering from his open veins and staining against his white flesh. The contrast is almost as pretty as Beau's red hair against her glass-like skin. Stunning.
I roll my eyes at the irritating sound of a croaky laugh, one that's caused from decades of snorting coke and ingesting those deadly little things called pills.
I tune out Durand's laughing, just like I did with the wails from this man's throat. Both scratch at my brain in an uncomfortable manor.
His ripped shirt has now soaked up the fresh blood, clinging to his sickly noodle arms like a child would with their mother. His jaw sits unnaturally on his already disproportionate face, a clear sign of dislocation. His left collar bone has begun to bruise against his stained skin, I thank my handy dandy knife for that. One clean hack and I sliced right through it. I'd probably be able to see the bone sticking out if it wasn't for the waterfall of thick blood.
I pull out my knife and the suctioning of his skin is music to my ears. A freshly opened wound trails down the middle of his stomach, a perfect line of red pours out instantly. Damn, if I didn't get sucked up in this mafia bullshit, I'd take up a job as a surgeon because my hand work is incredible.
"P-please, I-I," he stutters and coughs on fucking air.
"Shut up." I plunge the knife into his open wound and leave it there. His hands strain against the handcuffs and his neck scratches against the rope as he reacts to the newly added accessory.
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Everlasting Scars || Ongoing
Romance*ONGOING* It must be hard to live through the death of a loved one, especially when they are deemed as deserving of death. So hard that the pain creates many incredulous scenarios on how the villain was the hero. Malakai's brother was anything but...
