http://www.worstmayorsever.com/?p=118Elected Command: Spare.
“With my last moment in this accursed realm, I’ll rot this arm off! I will!” BaraBara threatens, unconvincingly.
The Man plucks the demon lord’s frontal fangs from his bulging forearm, and lifts the blackened skull above. The flare from BaraBara’s eye sockets illuminates the chamber further.
“Consider yourself pardoned.” The Man dryly acknowledges. A small whimper of relief escapes BaraBara, as his twin flames taper their sharp edges, steadily morphing into soft orbs. The green flicker dances with the shadows.
“Er…I…” BaraBara stammers.
The Man’s brows remain furrowed.
“I… Um… Actually, don’t know where they are.” says BaraBara.
Cracks form along the skull, as pressure from The Man’s left hand mounts as he squeezes down.
“W-Wait! The Four! The Four did not tell me of their plans, but-“ BaraBara struggles. “But I can tell you that they watch on, at this very moment!”
The Man shifts his gaze from BaraBara, and onto the angelic statues of the chamber corners. No longer are they winged saints of marble, but have now transformed into monstrous apparitions. The Man recognizes them all, involuntarily cracking his right fist.
One of the apparitions begins to chant, causing the etchings upon the walls to burst into bright red. Tightening his clutch upon the skull, The Man lunges for the staircase as the chamber begins to collapse. Racing toward the exit, the whirlwind of destruction grows deafening. Slabs of the staircase walls rocket out, as he sprints upward.
With honed reflexes, The Man grandly leaps forward, rears back left hand, and crushes BaraBara’s grizzly skull into ashy dust. The twin flames encircle his fist, while the demonic scream of BaraBara rings out. In a single fluid motion, The Man slams the enflamed fist into the closed tomb doors, blasting them from off their ancient hinges, and rolling onto the dewed grass outside. The man gazes on the Redwood Tomb, collapsed and smoldering.
“C-curse you… Y-you promised.” The weakening green flame protests. With a huff, The Man kneels down, and grabs a thin bark shaving from the fallen redwood. Deftly, he slaps his hands together, and squeezes tight. The flame absorbs into the bark shaving, which The Man then proceeds to expertly roll up, and place between his crown and hatband.
He contemplates. Had they all truly been watching? Have they been alerted to his awakening?
The sunrise now seeps over the horizon, providing for a better view of his possible destinations than before.
“Who… Who are you? What a manner of man are you!?” BaraBara faintly queries.
The Man squints.
“I’m The Mayor.”
Commands: 1. Head for the tall buildings with chimneys and thick smoke. Unwelcoming.
2. Head for the steep coastline. Ominous.
3. Head for the towering mountains of icy snow. Foreboding.
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