BY: PUNISHER
The
shambling creature stopped and surveyed the bleak landscape.
It strained to remember what its purpose was.
“Who am I?” It could not
remember. All it knew is that it
craved revenge. Someone had done
this to it. Changed it into some
unspeakable monstrous beast-thing and had eradicated his people.
And yet it could not remember who had done this thing.
The
answer might come in dreams, as it had in the past. Dreams of the lizard men in the Lost Land…dreams of a
marvelous white ship…and dreams of unnamable evil.
It
slept.
And
dreamt.
The
dreams came, as they always did. And
this one agitated the Shambler in his slumber.
He could almost remember a terrible battle. Had he been there? It
was almost as if he was witnessing the fighting through a haze.
Hairy beasts attacked a lone man with a sword on a hill, and in the
background cannon blasts from flying machines lit up the tar black noon sky.
The
parking garage was dimly lit, but then that is precisely why it had been chosen
for the meeting. A man standing in
the shadows lit his cigarette signifying that the meeting was to commence.
The second man walked towards him.
“That’s
far enough.” A voice like ice stopped the second man.
“Enough
with the mystery crap. We both know
who we are. What do you want?”
“It’s
not what I want Agent Mulder, it’s what I can give you.”
“About
what?”
“I
know you’ve been looking into the Roswell Incident…”
“And
you have answers?”
“What
are your questions Mr. Mulder?”
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