Post by Gallatin on Mar 30, 2016 22:51:25 GMT -5
Sitting on a throne in the darkness of what appears to be a cave in the middle of nowhere, a dark figure grabs a microphone in its crusted clawed hand. "Attention, denizens of the Digital World," it spoke. In the distance, its voice echoed, angry and grumbling, yet loud and powerful. "My name is Rustmon. I am your antibody. I was brought here to get rid of you all, as you are a plague upon this great and vast land. Over the coming days, expect to be annihilated, one by one. You do not know what I look like, you do not know what to expect, so cower. Cower in fear of your destroyer. No great hero will save you from your impending demise." The figure stood up, its ragged blood red cape fluttering in the breeze coming in from the cave's entrance. "My quest to destroy you all begins now. Prepare yourselves. Or don't. It is, after all, much easier to die in sweet surrender."
The figure crushed the microphone and stared down at three almost perfect clones of itself, sans cape, kneeling before it. "Master," one of them spoke, "we shall go out and destroy them, if that is what you wish. Your very word is our command, as we all hail from your flesh and blood. Just speak it, and it shall be done." As it finished speaking, the one known as Rustmon simply stared at them and nodded. As if he had sent them a silent message, the three figures stood up and ran out of the cave, off to serve their own brand of justice to the world.
