Ratta tat tat, the gunshots fire. The smell of flesh from a burning pyre. A bloody spray tints the mist. A dead man clenches his cold, white fist. The cost of honour is stained red hands, the mental burden of killing a man. Ratta tat tat, the gunshots sound, and every last soldier is on the ground.

The sounds of night darkness calling the sparkling specks of light in the sky twinkling a silent message of millennia gone and only centuries to come by their dwindling light In cities human-crafted plastic replacing stars blotting them out clotting the brains of materialistic beings greedy since freedom Beady eyes analyzing watching for signs of rebellion waiting for destruction hoping for chaos it will make a better sto...

Clasp the wheel your hands do nothing and you can't feel as you lose control. Black on black the screeches sound and you've lost track of time. It's like slow motion is taking over there's no emotion as steel hits steel. The only sound is sirens calling but you are drowned in silence.