HOME | DD

Description
Fire.  And Blood.
Both were mixing, interchangable, and both seemed so similair in their purpose.
Both swelled, raised, and raged, all as a single eye looked forward, into the swirling chaos that lie before it.
Waves, whether of blood or fire it was unknown, rose up and crashed back down, allowing for a brief glimpse of something within and beneath them.
Brief glimpses that horrified the viewer, and drove a morbid curiousity at the same time, drawing the eye closer to the waves.
Glimpse after glimpse acted in a manner so akin to pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, building the eye's knowledge of what hid just out of it's view.
A finger.
A hand.
An arm.
An eye, so similair to the one looking upon the chaos that one may say that it was it's opposite.
Around the viewing eye, a body grew, another eye grew in beside it.
The body was complete, whole and unfettered, healthy and pure.
The man stood, waist deep in the ocean of red, orange, and sickly yellow, wearing naught but his own skin.
Another thing began to be glimpsed within the waves by the man now, and, intrigued, he moved deeper into the searing hot chaos.
Grey.
Not the cold, pallid grey of dead flesh.
Nor the warm pink of a the living.
Not even the sickly green tinged color of the sick.
Grey, dull and smooth, untouched by the ocean it floated under.
The man, chest deep now, moved backwards slowly, frightened by the grey thing that floated nearer and nearer with every wave, only to be held back by the material he suddenly found himself clad in.
Smooth and black, with intermitent tones between the spectrum of slate and raven covered him.
A long flowing coat.
Gloves that hid his hands from sight.
Clothes made to intimidate.
Frightened even further now, as the grey thing became larger and larger in his eyes, the man fought against the material that sought to hold him back, sought to make him face the grey thing.
It rose from the waves of it's own accord now, and the grey thing's form became less and less imaginable, it's form was completely impossible in every sense.
Then it was gone, to be replaced by a pain so excrutiating, so miserable, that it became even further from the realm of possibility than the grey thing's form.
Crying out in agony, the man flung his left arm to his right shoulder, and found nothing beneath the cloth.
He reached up to his face, as tears streamed down into the still searing stuff he stood in, only to find a gash where once had been a healthy right eye.
It all stopped for a brief moment, as he closed his remaining eye, and the man breathed a sigh of relief as all became cold, slowly, as it seeped up through his body.
The cold was suddenly replaced by a searing and piercing pain in his shoulder and face, and the man screamed out as his body was rebuilt.

Jack awoke in his bed in a cold sweat, tears running down the left side of his face, while his left hand clasped the camera-like cybernetic eye that was in place of his right eye.  He had to remove it and bring it to his mouth, when he realized that he was screaming out in fear and agony.  The world took a moment to focus, and the Sweep took a deep breath as he slowly sat up in his bed.
His flesh was cold, both behind his new eye, and all along the heavily scarred part of his torso to which the new arm was bolted in.
The metal was always colder than the rest of his body.
He had heard that the issue had been fixed with newer, more natural looking models.
To bad he couldn't afford them.
Looking down at his new arm quickly, he sighed, whether in contempt or relief even he didn't know, and noted that it was indeed still there.  It was hard to tell after all, as he couldn't feel anything with the arm, after all, it didn't have nerve endings like a real arm.
Or the new models.
Laying back down slowly, and keeping his gaze fixated on the ceiling, he wiped away the remaining tears in his eye and took another deep breath.  When he glanced at the clock, he simply sighed and moved to get out of bed  completely.  The clock read 4:30 AM.
"Time for work."

Description
Fire.  And Blood.
Both were mixing, interchangable, and both seemed so similair in their purpose.
Both swelled, raised, and raged, all as a single eye looked forward, into the swirling chaos that lie before it.
Waves, whether of blood or fire it was unknown, rose up and crashed back down, allowing for a brief glimpse of something within and beneath them.
Brief glimpses that horrified the viewer, and drove a morbid curiousity at the same time, drawing the eye closer to the waves.
Glimpse after glimpse acted in a manner so akin to pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, building the eye's knowledge of what hid just out of it's view.
A finger.
A hand.
An arm.
An eye, so similair to the one looking upon the chaos that one may say that it was it's opposite.
Around the viewing eye, a body grew, another eye grew in beside it.
The body was complete, whole and unfettered, healthy and pure.
The man stood, waist deep in the ocean of red, orange, and sickly yellow, wearing naught but his own skin.
Another thing began to be glimpsed within the waves by the man now, and, intrigued, he moved deeper into the searing hot chaos.
Grey.
Not the cold, pallid grey of dead flesh.
Nor the warm pink of a the living.
Not even the sickly green tinged color of the sick.
Grey, dull and smooth, untouched by the ocean it floated under.
The man, chest deep now, moved backwards slowly, frightened by the grey thing that floated nearer and nearer with every wave, only to be held back by the material he suddenly found himself clad in.
Smooth and black, with intermitent tones between the spectrum of slate and raven covered him.
A long flowing coat.
Gloves that hid his hands from sight.
Clothes made to intimidate.
Frightened even further now, as the grey thing became larger and larger in his eyes, the man fought against the material that sought to hold him back, sought to make him face the grey thing.
It rose from the waves of it's own accord now, and the grey thing's form became less and less imaginable, it's form was completely impossible in every sense.
Then it was gone, to be replaced by a pain so excrutiating, so miserable, that it became even further from the realm of possibility than the grey thing's form.
Crying out in agony, the man flung his left arm to his right shoulder, and found nothing beneath the cloth.
He reached up to his face, as tears streamed down into the still searing stuff he stood in, only to find a gash where once had been a healthy right eye.
It all stopped for a brief moment, as he closed his remaining eye, and the man breathed a sigh of relief as all became cold, slowly, as it seeped up through his body.
The cold was suddenly replaced by a searing and piercing pain in his shoulder and face, and the man screamed out as his body was rebuilt.

Jack awoke in his bed in a cold sweat, tears running down the left side of his face, while his left hand clasped the camera-like cybernetic eye that was in place of his right eye.  He had to remove it and bring it to his mouth, when he realized that he was screaming out in fear and agony.  The world took a moment to focus, and the Sweep took a deep breath as he slowly sat up in his bed.
His flesh was cold, both behind his new eye, and all along the heavily scarred part of his torso to which the new arm was bolted in.
The metal was always colder than the rest of his body.
He had heard that the issue had been fixed with newer, more natural looking models.
To bad he couldn't afford them.
Looking down at his new arm quickly, he sighed, whether in contempt or relief even he didn't know, and noted that it was indeed still there.  It was hard to tell after all, as he couldn't feel anything with the arm, after all, it didn't have nerve endings like a real arm.
Or the new models.
Laying back down slowly, and keeping his gaze fixated on the ceiling, he wiped away the remaining tears in his eye and took another deep breath.  When he glanced at the clock, he simply sighed and moved to get out of bed  completely.  The clock read 4:30 AM.
"Time for work."