Dominion: Chapter 9 – The Living Vs The Dead
Introduction:
The battle between the US and the Dominion commences!
The Living vs the Dead
Blood trickled from Dominion’s slit fingers, sliding across the floor of his office at the prison and forming two separate puddles. As with all of his creations, two great shapes rose up from the puddles like they were gateways to Hell. Granted living flesh and blood bodies, a man and woman kneeled before him.
The man was a goliath, a bone structure that would suggest gigantism, but much more stable and natural. He wasn’t made in mankind’s image, but in the image of their evolutionary successor. Every muscle was at its maximum size, as if each thread underwent a lifetime of focused training. Yet despite his physique, his flexibility was in no way hampered, as his body was created to compensate for such a hindrance. It was the perfect combination of height and bulk. He had long wild hair and a chiseled face that was perfectly symmetrical.
Anyone who saw him, if even for a moment, would call him the epitome of perfection, the final result of God’s design with homo sapiens being just a shoddy rough draft. Like with Scourge, he had a goal in mind when he created him, a curiosity. His goal now was to create the perfect man, every biological function enhanced beyond imagination, a body infused with more than a hundred pure human souls, not a drop of darkness.
The woman similarly could be considered the personification of perfection, but in a different way, and with a different mixture. Around sixty pure souls, thirty wraiths, and ten demons, her constitution made for a more interesting appearance. Every aspect of her body was beautiful, sexy, sinfully decadent.
Her breasts were the size of melons and perfectly firm. Her face was symmetrical like the male beside her, with similarly sharp features, an overwhelming beauty that would intimidate any man and crush the pride of any woman. Her belly was flat and toned, with just a hint of the muscle underneath her flawless skin, but she had the ass of a Brazilian stripper, and thighs that belonged on Dominion’s shoulders. Her hair was red as blood and hung down to her thighs, beautifully paired with her piercing blue eyes. That was where the human traits ended.
Two horns grew out of the corners of her forehead, but they hung down, like massive fangs, framing her face to draw the eye to it. Extending from just above her perfect ass was a tail with the head of a snake. There were two long seams on her back, like old scars, and it was from those lines that wings would grow if she needed them. As for her feet, a first glance might make one think she was wearing a pair of stilettos, but really, she had hooves, shaped into high heels.
The man was wearing a metal kilt, like an ancient gladiator, while the woman had a more alluring outfit. She wore thigh-high stockings with a garter belt and corset, all made of leather, with a matching black thong on full display. The corset had two skeletal hands that cradled her breasts like a gothic brassiere.
“Ishtar, Adam, where do your allegiances lie?” Dominion asked.
“With you, Lord Dominion,” they replied with perfect synchronicity.
“Blight, Scourge.” Answering the call, his two other servants appeared, rising out black portals that opened up in the floor. “Meet your two new coworkers. Adam, your job is to lead the raids for finding new prisoners. Help on the battlefield, make sure everything goes smoothly. Between raids, you are to assist Blight in managing this prison and keeping the Laborers and Workers in line. Understood?”
“I will not fail you, oh Lord,” the Adonis replied.
“Ishtar, you are to manage my harem. Keep them in perfect condition for my use, watch their health, and assist in training them to better serve me. You are also in charge of the security at my mansion and keeping me entertained. Any questions?”
She fully lowered her head until her horns touched the floor. “I am not worthy of such a glorious purpose.”
“Good. Scourge, return to your surveillance duties. Blight, show Adam around the facility and find a task for him. Ishtar, I wish to see your skills. No one is to interrupt us.”
The three male entities bowed and departed, leaving Ishtar kneeling on the floor and Dominion sitting behind his desk with a lascivious smirk. The succubus was shivering in excitement, experiencing and indescribable joy at her master’s words. As one of Dominion’s creations, she had something that no natural creature or person had, purpose. Animals had the instinct to procreate, but they lacked the abstract intellect to fully appreciate when they succeeded in that goal. Children could be conceived and born to indulge the instincts of their parents, or to fulfill some role assigned by their family or society, but that was a purpose they were given. Ishtar had been born with a purpose, her body, her mind, her existence had been crafted around that purpose, for that purpose, by that purpose. Now she would fulfill it, like a key opening a lock.
Pity, it was the closest she could come to actually sympathizing with the humans outside. She pitied them, for while they experienced the eternal glory of being stepping stones for her Master, none of them would know the fullness, the satisfaction of being born with a purpose and fulfilling it.
“Well?” Dominion asked, impatiently.
That word shook Ishtar from her stupor. Unforgivable, making her master wait. She had already proved herself a failure. No, that would mean her Master had made a mistake in creating her, and surely such a divine being was incapable of making a mistake. She wasn’t utilizing all of the mental prowess he had given her, a conscious mind being a calculated risk he had made in his unfathomable wisdom. Either way, she had to make up for this error and go beyond his expectations.
She stood up and strode over to Dominion, her pendulous hips drawing infinity signs with every step. Her hooves, despite being described in such an ugly word, perfectly matched not just the shape of a pair of expensive high heels, but the iconic sound as they touched the hard marble floor, a sound that would arouse any man. He turned in his chair as she circled around the desk, brushing her fingers across the smooth wood. Her eyes were on the prize, the bulge in his pants making itself painfully obvious in his anticipation.
Good, so she visually appealed to her master. She aroused him, she invoked pleasure. It was a glorious honor, to know she was pleasing her Lord. She knelt down before him, and for the briefest fraction of a second, was afraid to touch him. To do something so bold, it was an irredeemable sin if he had not asked for it. He had told her to satisfy him, that he wanted to see her skills, but what if she was being too reckless? No, she couldn’t let fear and indecisiveness get in the way.
She unclasped his belt and worked Dominion’s cock free of its fabric prison. It stood erect, casting a shadow on her awestruck face. Ever since Dominion started collecting spirits, his body had begun slowly adapting to contain all that power, transforming into a stronger vessel. He had grown taller, his muscles had expanded while his bones became more pronounced, and of course, his member was increasing in mass. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to wrap her fingers around it. She was truly blessed to engage in such sensual contact with her Master. She wouldn’t be surprised if her fellow minions were jealous of her. She embraced it with her fingers, hesitantly, humbly, like a nun being handed the Holy Grail. Just that touch, it sent lightning bolts through her nerves, her libido going out of control as she felt a burst of energy go off between her legs.
She began to stroke it, admire it, examine every spot of his manhood. Her earlier unease was being swept away, replaced with confidence as she began to manifest her skills. The smirk on Dominion’s face appeared on her own, her arousal propelling her. It was so slight, but she heard it, the change in his breathing. He had trained himself not to feel pain, but pleasure was still as potent as ever. She rubbed his cock like she was shaping clay, and just that much amount of manual stimulation was reaching him. That was a good sign, she was pleasing him, but it was time to go further.
Her tongue, longer than a normal human’s and forked like a snake’s, she ran it up the shaft, and drowned herself in ecstasy, like a zealot hearing the voice of God. The manly smell, the taste of sweat and testosterone, it nearly made her faint, the euphoria of her Master’s flavor. But she couldn’t think about herself, pleasing him was her reason for living. She went to work, sucking on his cock gluttonously. She’d slurp the head like she was drinking out of a straw, inviting it into her mouth and rubbing it against the inside of her cheeks, and coil her long tongue around it like a boa constrictor.
The sound she made, the sound of suction forming and breaking, of saliva being poured on and licked off, of frantic, excited breaths, it was louder than Dominion was used to. With his slaves, they hardly put any effort into it. They’d just suck on it so that he wouldn’t hurt them, or he’d skull-fuck them and they’d sit there and take it, choking and gagging but not putting in any effort. Ishtar was making love to his cock, putting on a performance for her Master to show her dedication, her fanaticism in pleasuring him, her happiness in being his toy.
Dominion had never received a blowjob with such skill, it was affecting him deeper than he thought it would. The split tendrils of her tongue, slipping under the edge of his glans, tickling the slit at the top, and running along the seam of his sack, it was making him tremble and pant. He had created an exquisite servant, and she still had more cards to play.
Her tail, the python head at the end, used its teeth to unfasten her corset. It fell away like leather armor, exposing her bodacious tits. Dominion looked at them in pride, admiring his handiwork. They were soft, yet didn’t show the slightest bit of sag despite their size. Her areolas were like pink sugar cookies, tipped with gumdrop nipples. His cock found its home between her breasts, smooshed from all sides. He took a deep breath, trying to remember the last time he’d received a tit-fuck. With her spit lubricating him, she began bobbing her chest, sliding his member back and forth between her luscious mountains. The smoothness of her skin was unparalleled, flawless, as if made not of cells, but some kind of liquid held in suspension, a fabric woven atom by atom to ensure a perfect touch.
“Do my tits please you, My Lord?” she purred.
“Indeed.”
That one word, it made her eyes roll back in bliss. And the feeling of her master’s cock so close to her heart, it made her want to open up her ribcage so that he could penetrate her chest with it. She easily could, it wouldn’t even hurt. Though he might find it repulsive, or it might make him immune to her other tricks. She’d just end up boring him later if she used her best techniques so early. No, better to continue with her original plan. She resumed massaging his cock with her tits, almost bullying it, while her tongue serviced the head.
He was not a courteous man, nor was there any point in announcing it to humiliate her, so he said nothing when he ejaculated. An inhuman jet of semen erupted across Ishtar’s face and breasts. While he grunted, she cried out in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the feeling up being baptized in her Master’s seed, and of succeeding in pleasuring him. She extended her tongue, wrapping the split tendrils around the base of his shaft. She then pulled it upwards, using them to scrape off the remains of his blast and gather it together. Once she had finished with the head, she had gathered a significant pool of semen on her tongue and gluttonously rolled it around her mouth. Then she went to work on herself, using her long tongue to lick her face and breasts clean.
“Show it to me.”
She lowered her head and showed him the white pool in her mouth. He gave a nod and she swallowed it with a grateful hum.
“Thank you for the bountiful feast, Master. Now, how might I please you further?”
“You know what to do.”
Her confidence returned and she fully stripped down, exposing her sinfully sexy body, then kneeled on his lap and guided his cock into her womanhood. With her body being that of an enhanced human, she had a human hymen, and as a virgin, she moaned and immediately climaxed as Dominion entered her for the first time. There was no pain, not only because she was far too powerful of a being to be hurt by simple penetration, but because she was the embodiment of sinful sexuality, a created succubus. Her body was forged for this purpose. To feel pain from her Master’s cock entering her would be like a hammer breaking because it was made of glass.
To feel him enter her, her creator, the one she was made to serve, it made her thoughts melt, her newborn body tremble and change form, her very existence shiver. She started bouncing on Dominion’s cock, facing him so that he could go to town on her breasts. Now encountering a woman who wouldn’t so easily break, Dominion allowed himself to get rough. He didn’t just suck on her nipples, he tore into her flesh with his teeth, drank her blood. He slapped her ass with enough strength to shatter the pelvis of a normal human.
“Oh yes! Master! Please! I want all of your cruelty! Bless me with your malice!”
It was not so much dirty talk as it was a prayer to her dark god. Pleasure and pain, for Ishtar, were one and the same. Agony was ecstasy. To be hurt by the Master, to feel pain from his hand, it was a gift. Every sensation was a privilege that she, such an unworthy creature, didn’t deserve. Truly, her master was merciful beyond measure to bless her with the ability to experience his abuse.
For Dominion, this was also a powerful experience. Ishtar’s womanhood, it was unlike any other. He created her to be better than a human, but even he had underestimated his own creation. Her interior, it was moving and convulsing, but not in the normal reaction to sex. Rather, it was closing in on him, massaging his phallus, like he was driving into a carwash and the brushes were going at it from all sides. There was also another feeling, something chemically induced. Her liquid arousal was like an aphrodisiac mixed with heroin, secreted internally like snake producing venom. There was also a weaker version in her sweat and something entirely different in her blood. Every bodily fluid seemed to have drug-like effects. Exposed to all this, a normal man would have ejaculated in seconds, might even pass out, but Dominion’s power and will granted him greater endurance.
Ishtar continued riding him, shaking her hips every which way, moving on all three axes of space. Her moans were continuous, a joy beyond words. She only stopped when he finally got up, threw her down on his desk, and mounted her from behind. He slammed into her with all his strength like an automatic hammer, sending ripples through her luscious flesh while her breasts were smooshed against his desk like dough under a rolling pin. He pulled her arms back and held them like handlebars, giving him full control of her.
“Yes! Master! Harder! Deeper!”
She screamed this over and over, but in her mind, she was cursing herself for her greed. How dare she ask for anything from her creator, who, in his infinite kindness, already gave her so much? She was supposed to be pleasuring him, not the other way around, but she could help it, she was drunk on lust. She came again and again, orgasms firing like bullets in an Uzi, her Master driving her to the brink of madness. They didn’t stop until he did, when she felt one final gargantuan orgasm, triggered by the sensation of her womb being pumped full of semen.
He finally pulled out of her and sat back in his chair, gasping for breath. Ishtar’s ass was in the air with semen trickling out of her pussy. She coiled her tail between her legs, using it like a band-aid on her slit to keep any more seed from being lost. Then she got down on all fours and greedily licked any drops off the floor. Only once she was done did she face Dominion.
“Have I pleased you, Master?”
“You have, well done. I look forward to your eternal dedication and loyalty.”
“I am unworthy of your praise, or the glorious duty you have assigned me, but I will dedicate my existence to fulfilling your every need.”
“As I expect you to. You know where the mansion is, correct? Go and acquaint yourself with my slaves. You will be managing them from now on.”
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Finally allowed outside her room, Mary spent her time rather dully. She was in one of the hallways, staring out the window, a dead look in her eyes. Cho slowly approached her. The two women were naked, still forbidden from wearing clothes. Cho’s gaze momentarily flicked from her rear end to her exposed breasts, with the image of Dominion’s massage still clear in her mind. She was around twice her age, but still very tight and youthful.
“Your name is Mary, right?” She didn’t reply. “I know how awful this is, how it feels to be ripped from your old life and enslaved. You don’t have to go through this alone, my sister and I are here for you.” She placed her hand on Mary’s shoulder, but the woman jerked back.
“Don’t touch me, filthy whore!”
“I’m… just trying to help.”
“I’m a member of the proud Aryan race! Just because I’m a prisoner here does not mean I should be pitied by a slant-eyed skank!”
Cho was taken back, having no idea how to respond to that. Kindness and compassion were new to her, so maybe she came on the wrong way? But what kind of woman was she to say something so horrible?
“Do you think it matters what race you are? You’re a slave, just like me and Hijiri.”
“Don’t act like we’re the same. I know who you are. Your father is Lee Misato, a Jap playing American mobster. This is your house, isn’t it? Poor you, getting to keep living in your mansion, moaning as you and your slutty sister get put in your place. I bet you both love it, getting dominated by the superior white man.
My home was demolished, my town leveled. My husband was turned into an unholy monster and my children were slaughtered in front of me. I was raped while their blood dried on my face.”
For the fraction of a second, the old Cho returned, and she nearly gave Mary a black eye, but when she heard about what had happened to her, that rage vanished. She was face to face with a bitter, vile, white supremacist, yet all she felt was sorrow for what she had experienced. How strange, that all this horror had a silver lining. After all the pain Cho had suffered, she could finally sympathize with others who had suffered. Regardless, she realized that there was no point in talking to Mary further. She had been raised to hate, to look down on others she deemed inferior no matter what situation she was in. That belief of her racial superiority was probably the only thing she had left, and her misery and anger would strengthen her hold on it. She was beyond redemption.
Cho walked away, leaving Mary to simmer. She went in search of Hijiri and found her in one of the parlors, but rather than watching TV, she was sitting in the corner, mumbling in Japanese. She was talking to their mother. However, her voice was cracking, due to the trauma her throat had received the previous night.
Dominion had been on his back with Cho straddling his face and Hijiri riding his cock, both women struggling with their hands bound behind their backs. They were gasping for air with their faces changing color due to the nooses around their throats. The nooses were connected, going through a pulley system on the ceiling. When one twin dropped down, the rope would pull up on the throat of the other. The rope was long enough so that if they both sat up on their knees, they’d get just enough air to keep from passing out, but Dominion had been taking turns with them like this for over an hour, draining them of their strength as he made them take turns getting raped.
The sisters had to watch each other get strangled while gasping for air and sobbing in anguish. Cho could see the head of Dominion’s cock sliding back and forth inside Hijiri as he made soup of her insides, and Hijiri could see Dominion’s tongue swirling between Cho’s legs as he slurped up her feminine essence. Adding more pain to the mix, they each had clamps put on their nipples with wires linking them together, so if one leaned back, the other would be pulled forward. Sweat and saliva gleamed on their breasts as they struggled for each wisp of air.
Cho shook the memory of that nightmare aside. Her hand automatically moved to feel the bruise around her throat, but she stopped it and went over to her sister. “Come on, Hijiri, you shouldn’t sit on the floor like that. You’ll catch a cold.”
Cho tried to lift her sister to her feet, but she just went limp. She looked up at Cho, her eyes glossed over as if she was drugged. “Mama, will you brush my hair?” she asked in Japanese.
Cho struggled to hold back tears. “Of course, come up onto the couch.”
Hijiri finally stood up on her own and Cho led her to the couch, then went up to her room and retrieved a hairbrush. She returned to find her sister singing nursery rhymes. She sat behind her and started brushing her hair.
“How does that feel?”
Hijiri didn’t respond, just shuddered like a bobblehead. Cho tried to ignore the big clumps of hair that had been yanked out. Dominion would use his powers to regrow it, declaring that she was unsightly otherwise. Maybe he just liked taking away that last bit of control Hijiri had over her life. Every night, Hijiri’s night terrors seemed to worsen, her screams heard throughout the house. Cho could easily imagine what she dreamed of.
“How are you feeling?”
Hijiri began reciting names. Cho recognized them as the names of their classmates from high school.
This was the real reason why Cho had tried to reach out to Mary, it was so that she’d have someone to talk to. Isolated from her sister, Cho had only seen and heard hints as to how far she had degenerated. Now up close, finally able to talk to her, she came to realize that her sister was slowly ceasing to exist. Just these past few days, she could see her insanity growing like a cancer, while the hours of lucidity dwindled one by one. Most of that time was spent receiving Dominion’s abuse. Her mind was buckling under the weight of her pain, fear, and humiliation, and created this insanity to protect itself, but ironically, exposure to those feelings seemed to give her some of her sanity back. Suffering caused her insanity, but she was only sane when she suffered. If this continued, her sister would eventually just be a lifeless husk.
What would happen then? Her father was forbidden from coming to the mansion, so once she lost Hijiri, she’d be all alone. Would she start breaking like her? Would she end up like this, having lost her mind and lucid only long enough to feel Dominion raping her? Or maybe it had already begun. So far, she didn’t feel like her sanity was slipping, at least not like Hijiri, but maybe that was the sign that it was. Maybe her sister was already dead and she was just brushing the hair of a hallucination. She had survived this long, been able to cope, because she was more worried about Hijiri than herself, but once she was alone, she knew that she’d just melt away.
“All slaves, front and center!”
The voice boomed throughout the house, a voice they did not recognize. Just like that, life returned to Hijiri’s eyes, and she looked back at her sister in terror. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but if we make them wait, we’ll be punished. Come on.”
Clutching her sister to comfort her, Cho led Hijiri to the main hallway of the mansion. Mary arrived just a moment later, the three women staring at this new arrival. They knew she was one of Dominion’s creations, they could tell just from looking at her horns, tail, and hooves, but compared to Blight and the likewise transformed mansion chef, as well as the sentinels, she seemed much more artfully created. Her appearance was sinful decadence, something out of a man’s dark fantasy.
“You’re late. If I were the Master, would you have been so slow in arriving? Would you make him wait? My name is Ishtar, and Lord Dominion had tasked me with managing you, ensuring that you are the best slaves possible, experts in servicing him. Granted this assignment by the Almighty, I cannot fail, and I will not allow you to make me fail.”
“What are you going to do to us?” Hijiri asked.
“I’m going to teach you how to behave as proper slaves. Look at you, not only were you slow in arriving, but your posture is disgraceful. The three of you are awaiting your Master, not loitering in an alley. You, on your knees.” Hijiri obeyed, kneeling down. “When Lord Dominion arrives, you should be ready to pleasure him. You, granted the eternal glory of being the sex slave of the Master, show such disrespect towards him. Open your mouth.” Hijiri again obeyed, and after smelling her breath, Ishtar smacked her across the face. “Unforgivable! You would meet the Master with such putrid breath? How much more must you insult him?”
“Leave her alone!” Cho yelled.
Ishtar turned to Cho and grabbed her by the throat. “Your mouth does not exist to defy the Lord, but to serve as a sheath for his physical glory.” Cho was gasping for air, but Ishtar just jammed the end of her tail in her mouth. She fell to her knees, choking on the python’s head. “You don’t know how to relax your throat? Lord Dominion must be truly patient to endure your selfishness and incompetence.” She looked at Hijiri, playing dead to avoid her being noticed. “You, on all fours.”
Crying, Hijiri assumed the position, while Cho continued to choke and gag on the woman’s tail. Ishtar put one of her hooves on her ass, grinding it like she was putting out a cigarette. “Do you not realize how blessed you are? For the Master to deem your body worthy of receiving his attention?” Hijiri winced as Ishtar inserted the tip of her heel into her anus. “This is how you must pray, so that you may feel the glory of Lord Dominion inside you. Relish the pain, relish the pleasure, for every sensation is a gift he grants you.” She turned to Mary. “Your body is disgusting. Death is the only punishment for making Lord Dominion bear your odor. When did you last shower?”
Afraid and not knowing how to properly answer, Mary stumbled. “L-last night.”
“On your knees.”
Mary looked over to Cho, lying on her back, tears streaming down her face as Ishtar raped her throat with her tail. She did as told, hoping her punishment wouldn’t be too severe. Ishtar stripped down, revealing her flawless body and the creampie that Dominion had left inside her. She grabbed Mary by the hair and forced her face against her pussy. Mary tried to fight back, but her strength couldn’t even compare to that of the succubus.
“Go on, lick it up. That is the glorious taste of the Almighty. He gave it to me as a reward for my dedication, but I doubt you accept it so gratefully. You should always smell as though ready to accept him, or smell like you just did. If he samples your body and smells anything other than soap, then your body is nothing less than garbage, and I can’t allow my Master to touch garbage.
You’re all pathetic. It seems I must grind these lessons into your soul.”
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That night, Dominion returned home. While his powers allowed him to teleport from one spot to the next, he preferred to walk through the front doors each time, almost as a way to remind himself that the property belonged to him. Upon entering, he found his three slaves crouching on the floor in front of him, whimpering like puppies with their tongues extended, ready to catch his seed. They were covered in whip marks and their skin had been rubbed raw from hours of bathing. Behind them stood Ishtar.
“Please forgive me, Master. I am still working on their training. However, I have hope that they will be able to satisfy you tonight.”
“Oh, I look forward to it. But first, I—”
He stopped and looked back out the door.
“Master?” Ishtar asked.
A wicked grin crossed his face. “Scourge sent me a message. The government is moving in. Their assault will begin before dawn. Everything is going according to plan.”
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Cold, an indescribable chill that sunk deep into the bones, it ate away at the men but their gear kept the worse at bay. Navy SEALs, they were the first part of the attack, though it would be better to call them the flame that lit the fuse. They were moving down the river towards Augusta, but not on the water, they would be too exposed. They were hidden under floating ice sheets, wearing scuba gear and all of the insulation and thermal protection they could get. The river wasn’t all the way frozen, letting their icy disguises float down the water without issue. It was an hour before dawn, pitch black out. They navigated the river using GPS watches and periscopes.
Their orders were to go in and report the layout, plant explosives, and attempt to assassinate Dominion. At the moment, it was just one platoon, sixteen men, but there were more than a hundred more waiting upriver, and a thousand waiting out of the water. They’d swarm in once the fighting started. Reaching the city, they abandoned their iceberg and crawled up onto the riverbank. Their guns were wrapped in plastic to protect them from the water and the ice, since as soon as they climbed out of the river, the deathly morning chill froze the water clinging to their suits. Lights from watchtowers scrolled across the bank, but the men were perfectly camouflaged and there was a fog coming off the river.
Despite the lights, the SEALs discarded their scuba gear and put on night vision goggles, giving them a better view. It was good that they did, because they saw one of the hulks patrolling outside of the chain link fence that separated the camp from the river bank. Their uniforms were made with silver and mercury, preventing it from detecting their souls. Seeing it up close, the men felt true terror in their hearts, for it was something not of the mortal world. Their rifles were stocked with silver bullets and had suppressors attached, but they didn’t want to try their luck against that monstrosity. As soon as it was gone, they moved up the bank, dodging the searchlights of the lazy guards.
They cut through the fence with equal speed and silence, aiming for one of the posts where it wouldn’t be noticed. “We’re in,” said Lieutenant Dean, speaking into his mic. Like the National Guard before them, they had cameras mounted on their helmets, and the feed was being sent back to the White House and used to compile a map of the city.
Watching from the Situation Room, President Collins didn’t reply. The timing for this operation was the best they could hope for. The previous afternoon, an army of beasts had left the city to go on another raid, following a train and convoy of buses towards the city of Bangor in the north. The raid was being observed, and it didn’t seem like they’d return until the same time the next day. The city would never again be so lightly guarded, and no matter what, they had to press this attack until one side was exterminated. This wasn’t about saving the prisoners, the city had to be completely leveled. He hated himself for making this decision, but with a threat like this, they couldn’t afford to pull any punches out of fear of collateral damage. Whoever this Dominion was, if they managed to kill him, then hopefully his unholy army would die with him.
The Navy SEALs moved through the prison, planting bombs and surveying the landscape. They passed on the locations of the prisoner pens, so that at least the invading forces could avoid destroying them. They stuck to the shadows, checking every rooftop and corner before taking a step. There were few human guards out at this time, and it seemed like most of the inhuman enemies were at the raid. While this was going on, the next stage of the attack was taking shape. In the east, where the suburbs had been turned into a ghost town, the heavy artillery were being rolled in. Light, medium, and high-powered howitzers were being set up, as well as giant mobile rocket launchers. Every cannon that could be gathered was assembled, not just in the suburbs, but going back miles, to take advantage of the longest-range weapons.
To the southwest, an army of tanks, trucks, and personnel carriers was moving up the I-95. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but it was just bright enough for all the vehicles to drive without lights, so as to avoid being spotted. Last but not least, an airborne armada of helicopters and planes was ready and waiting to wipe Augusta off the map should any problem arise. For now, it all rested on the SEALs. They had no information on who or what Dominion was, but the high office in the central building seemed like as good a place to check as any other.
They snuck into the building, but found it largely empty. The collaborators had yet to arrive for the day shift, leaving just a skeleton crew, and while there were several sentinels patrolling the building, they managed to avoid them. They made their way up to the top floor and arrived at a set of large double doors. The SEALs placed small explosive charges on the hinges and handles, stepped back, and set them off. The doors were blown open and they stormed into the office. There, sitting behind his desk, was Dominion, waiting for them.
That wicked grin, that insidious gleam to his eye, the evil aura he radiated, it was all the confirmation they needed that he was who they were after. No, even if he wasn’t Dominion, every instinct in their body screamed that the man before them had to be killed. They opened fire on full auto, unleashing every silver and mercury-tipped bullet they had. The shots ripped through his desk, chair, and the window behind him, but he had leaped into the air as soon as they pulled the triggers.
“Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless! Useless!” he cackled.
He landed in their midst and swung his arm. Clipped with an invisible sword, they exploded at the waist. Viscera sprayed in fountains as their bifurcated bodies toppled over, spilling shredded intestines across the floor. As their blood and souls flowed towards him, he picked up the helmet of the dying Lieutenant and looked into the camera. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, prez.”
Back in the Situation Room, Collins, his cabinet, and the Joint Chiefs stared at the monitors in horror. “Do it, now. I don’t care what it takes, annihilate that town,” he cursed.
Sentinels came out of the woodwork and hastily began cleaning up the bodies and disabling the cameras. At the same time, Dominion’s four subordinates arrived.
“Master, pardon my rudeness, but please avoid taking such risks in the future. We can’t allow you to come to any harm,” said Adam.
“It worked, didn’t it? The longer I let these vermin scurry around, the more time our enemy had to get into position. By now, they should be at the point of no return. Blight, the explosives?”
“Disarmed and collected.”
“Good. You will handle the aerial attack from the south. Adam, you take out the artillery. Scourge, clear the river of the rest of those SEALs. Ishtar, make sure that no bombs reach our facility. I’ll take the army coming up I-95.”
His servants gave a servile bow and then rushed off to their assigned duties. Leathery wings grew from Ishtar’s back, and with a mighty flap, she hurled herself out through the broken window, then flew up to the top of the building. In the predawn light, her eyes could perfectly see the forest of cannons across the river. She crouched down and her wings began to grow and transform, doubling in size each second while the veins were lit up like glow sticks. They had become two massive transmitters, through which she projected her energy into a telekinetic field around the city, a defensive dome.
The barrage began, thunderclaps shaking the stillness of the morning as every howitzer launched its payload. Bombs filled the air, hurtling towards the prison, but they never made it. They were stopped in midair as soon as they crossed the river, like flies caught in a spiderweb. These were all modified rounds, filled with silver and mercury in addition to their explosive components.
Were they wrapped in silver like the soldiers’ bullets, her powers would have no effect, they’d slip right through her field, and she couldn’t let them detonate in the air because then their poison would pour into the city. Once she caught them, she simply dropped them into the river and let them explode harmlessly in the water. While she was taking care of this, her fellow servant went to work.
She saw him, Adam hurtling over the river as if launched from a catapult. He landed on the other side and charged straight towards the nearest howitzer, moving as fast as a cheetah. The soldiers manning the cannon didn’t even see him, he simply cut them down with a chop of his hand, ripping them open just as Dominion had done to the SEALs. In that same movement, he also pulverized the howitzer. He didn’t even pause, he just zoomed over to a nearby HIMARS rocket launcher. The soldiers guarding it saw him coming and opened fire with their rifles, but he dodged every bullet with movements of inhuman grace and speed.
He reached the first soldier beside the truck, and with just his finger, drilled a perfect hole straight through the man’s forehead and skewered his brain. Without even removing it, he spun around and delivered a kick to the jaw of a second soldier, ripping it clean off his skull. A third man, a tiny whelp of a soldier, dropped his empty rifle and drew his sidearm. He screamed in terror as he emptied the clip into Adam’s chest. These were silver bullets, but all that meant was that they were able to break his skin and nullify his healing. Even if they could disrupt his power, his body was enhanced with more than just psychic energy. His entire chemical composition had been altered to withstand heavy impacts.
The silver bullets merely lodged themselves in his flesh like bee stings, and while the wounds smoked from his power being agitated, this didn’t even register as an injury. Scoffing at the soldier’s attempts, he gave a simple flex of his pecs and launched the bullets back at the soldier with even greater force than his gun could achieve. Pocked with bullet wounds, one might say he was what Adam was supposed to be. Adam then turned his attention back to the massive artillery vehicle, and with a light kick, sent it flying.
The next howitzer was behind a nearby house. Adam didn’t hesitate, he rocketed himself straight through the building, smashing through walls, doors, and the chimney. He burst out the other side and dispatched the soldiers with rapid-fire punches. One the men tried to attack him from behind, but the superhuman simply delivered a backward kick that sent the soldier flying with a crushed ribcage.
He continued like this, zooming through the suburbs, destroying every building in his way and pulverizing every weapon the soldiers had. As for the soldiers themselves, he slaughtered them all with punches and kicks. Several TV and news crews had snuck onto the battlefield, thinking they’d be safe with the soldiers while getting some great shots of the howitzers going off. They were killed even easier than the troops. Beyond strength that dwarfed the hulks, the true danger was Adam’s skill. Every attack was perfect, not a single millimeter of wasted movement, with every strike blending into each other. Even when he stopped, he assumed a combative pose. He had just been created the previous day, but it was like he had centuries of fighting experience.
Within minutes, he was closing in on the last howitzer within the suburbs. By now, the soldiers were aware of his presence and saw him coming. Rather than continuing the fire pointlessly at the city, they lowered the cannon and fired it straight at the oncoming demigod. Adam didn’t change his trajectory or hesitate. The shell, about to strike his face, was deflected and sent it crashing into an abandoned home to explode. He had knocked it aside with the back of his hand.
One of the soldiers raised a six-round grenade launcher and fired. This smaller bomb, Adam didn’t even bother blocking or deflecting it, but when it exploded against his chest, he was blinded with smoke. That moment of distraction was all the crew needed to reload the cannon and fire. This time, Adam was struck in the shoulder, and the combination of the impact and explosion send him hurtling through the air and crashing into a brick house with enough force to make it collapse. Then, to be sure, the soldiers fired a round into the rubble.
The soldier with the grenade launcher turned to his friend. “Go make sure he’s dead.”
“Fuck you!”
“Just do it!”
Armed with an M60, the second soldier jogged over and began picking through the rubble. There was no warning, Adam’s foot burst out of a pile of debris and punched a hole in the man’s chest like a giant pike. With the soldier impaled on his raised leg, he rose up out of the wreckage with a smile. Half of his face and chest were burned by the mercury and silver, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“It must be so agonizing, to have perfection itself stand before you and see how you compare, to realize just how you inferior you are compared to my flawless existence. But fear not, your souls will be harvested just like the others, and you will have the eternal glory of becoming one with the only entity greater than myself. Perhaps you might even be used to create another one of me, so that you may experience my exquisiteness firsthand. Take comfort in that hope.”
Then, he slaughtered them, and moved on to destroy every other piece of heavy artillery farther back.
While this was going on, an army of Navy SEALs was zooming down the river towards Augusta. Now that the battle had begun, there was no point on concealment. They were riding in inflatable rafts with lightweight motors. Since the shelling was proving ineffective, they were to enter on foot and demolish the town themselves. The river was clogged with hundreds of boats, but as they approached the city, a chill rushed through all of the men, one that the winter morning couldn’t even hope to rival.
Up ahead, something rose out of the middle of the river, a dark figure shrouded in a black cloak. Just staring at it made the men sick, scaring them more than any gun or bomb could. It released a groan, a deep bellow, almost machinelike, and from the hems of its cloak, darkness surged out and polluted the river. It moved upstream with frightening speed, and every boat it met was brought to a sudden halt. The water, corrupted by the darkness, had congealed and thickened into a noxious tar. It extended up the river for miles, encompassing every single boat.
All of the SEALs were now stranded, but the horror had only begun. With his pray now trapped, Scourge began the second stage. He extended his tentacles into the muck, and then, they rose. Writhing serpents, spiked crustaceans, grotesque and twisted mammals and reptiles of all sizes, their bodies were born from the darkness. These weren’t spirits, like Dominion unleashing his enslaved demons and wraiths to hunt. Rather, each was like an appendage of Scourge, his power molded into these horrific forms. They lacked any kind of sentient thought and could only exist while physically linked to Scourge, but they were essentially nightmares brought to life.
The boats were attacked like caterpillars dropped into the paths of army ants. Surrounded on all sides, the men gave in to their fear and opened fire. Their silver bullets made the creatures splatter like paint balloons, but more just rose up from the darkness, reformed through the remains of their predecessors. On one of the boats, a SEAL was using an M-249 belt-fed machine gun. He was firing nonstop and screaming in terror as he swung the weapon back and forth. The fact that he didn’t need to reload as often as others was the only reason why he was lasting so long, but lunging from the river, something resembling a pterodactyl appeared. It leaped onto his boat and he immediately eviscerated its skull with a stream of 5.56 bullets. Despite the damage, a gooey tendril burst from the stump of its neck and seized the weapon, then the creature tackled him and proceeded to tear into its flesh with its claws.
On a boat near his, a group of soldiers was facing off against an army of serpents. They stood up in the air like scorpion tails and struck the same way. The soldiers had run out of ammo with missed shots and now were resorting to trying to behead the beasts with their knives. One of the men managed a lucky swing and decapitated a serpent, but its brethren sank its teeth into his arm. He let loose a garbled cry as his body turned a deathly gray and shriveled up. As he crumbled, one of the serpents dove into the mouth of his friend. With it trying to crawl down his throat, he managed to sever its neck, but it was too late. The thick black ooze of its body was melting and rotting his body from the inside out. The last three men on the boat didn’t stand a chance, they were all bitten over and over until death.
Several attempted to flee the boats and get to the shore. They tossed their silver and mercury grenades into the muck, and while the explosions managed to disintegrate the creatures for a few moments, it wasn’t an actual solution. The men jumped into the black sludge, hoping they could escape during that brief window, but the darkness simply swallowed them up and dissolved their bodies like acid. Thousands of soldiers were dead before they even reached the city.
Yet hope was not lost for the human race. Miles to the south, a massive airborne army was on its way to level Augusta. Word had spread about the invisible barrier, but they’d just have to keep shooting at it until it disappeared. Planes, helicopters, jets, troop carriers, pretty much any craft that could carry bombs or guns was on its way to the battle. Their combined wings nearly blocked out the sun, and the roar of their engines and rotors could be heard across the state. The jets pulled ahead to deliver the first strike. As soon as they were in range, they’d unleash everything they had at the den of evil.
Then, as their missiles were about to be fired, the jets all exploded, one by one, but in such rapid succession that it might as well have been simultaneous. Next in line were the A10s, a hundred of them, but they were all taken out in less than a minute. Most of them just exploded in midair, the rest fell out of the sky. The Lockheed gunships were wiped out. Their explosions were the most spectacular, due to all the fuel and ammo they carried. Their armor plating did nothing to protect them. By the time the pilots of the Apaches and other attack helicopters knew what was going on, they were slaughtered, never knowing what had taken them out and sent their crafts falling to the earth in flaming wrecks.
The answer could be found on the roof of the central building in the concentration camp. As Ishtar maintained the barrier, Blight stood beside her. The ground around him was littered with spent casings and empty magazines. In his hand was his trusty luger, and he was firing off rounds as fast as they could be loaded. His luger normally only had a lethal range of about fifty meters and a bullet velocity of 400 meters per second, but enhanced with his unholy powers and guided by his inhuman sight, sniping a bomber from miles away was as easy as breathing.
He was now going to work on the Osprey and Chinook helicopters, the troop carriers. Of those who managed to bail the flaming wrecks in time, most released their parachutes and escaped death, while the rest either burned to death or fell to their doom. Once all of the aircrafts were down, Dominion’s surveillance vultures swooped in to capture the survivors. Their parachutes made them easy targets.
There was only one final hope, the mobile army coming up the I-95. They had almost reached the city—the central building of the concentration camp was in view. However, they found their way blocked. A legion of hulks, sentinels, and hounds had filled the highway. Just from a distance, all the soldiers could tell that these hulks were different from the ones seen before. Their bodies had an unnatural shine. In a process that would have killed any other organism, molten metal had been poured onto the hulks and fused with their bone armor. It didn’t cover the joints, so they could still move, and the metal added a layer of protection from silver and mercury, like a callus. Seeing this through cameras on helmets and the lead vehicles, the president felt like a giant ice block had been dropped into his stomach.
They had known this attack was coming. They had known that silver would be used against them. That raid on Bangor, it was just a trick to lure them in!
Arriving at the scene, a dozen news copters pulled up from the rear. Their orders were to stay out of range of the enemy, so that the army wouldn’t have to save them if they were attacked, but no one could resist this chance to see the battle in the flesh. Cameras focused on the opposing force, providing a live view to those watching from behind screens. Spectators stared in horror at their TVs, unable to process the sight of the monsters. This was some kind of joke, right? There was no way those things could exist. Are they robots or something?
And floating above them was Dominion, a Devil in the flesh. “Slaughter them all,” he decreed.
One of the hulks raised its mighty fist. “For the glory of Lord Dominion!”
All of the other beasts roared in agreement, then charged. The metal-coated hulks thundered down the highway towards the oncoming tanks. Silver and mercury bombs were launched, but the hulks folded their wings against their arms and used them as shields. Every tank, grenade launcher, and rocket launcher was aimed upwards and fired, but Dominion gave a flick of his wrist and the bombs were tossed to the side without doing anything.
Soldiers manning the machineguns atop the frontline of tanks unleashed a hellish barrage of lead and silver, but the bullets just got lodged in the hulks’ exterior. The wounds smoked as the silver burned their tissue, but with thick armor plating of bone and metal, the bullets couldn’t reach actual flesh. The two armies collided, with the tanks only slowing down the hulks for a few moments. They ripped the machines open with their powerful arms, exposing the frightened men inside, then began the slaughter. Like Dominion, they all had the ability to steal the soul of whoever they killed, drawing the spirits from their eviscerated bodies like metal dust to a magnet, but it was all the more satisfying to collect them through drinking their blood.
One of the hulks grabbed a soldier fleeing a destroyed tank and ripped his head off with its teeth, crunching it like a grape, then slurping the blood from the corpse like a juice box. Another hulk ripped open a Humvee, grabbed the driver by the arms and legs, and started tearing into his stomach like it was eating an ear of corn. With each bite, blood would soak its face and chest and organs would spill into the road. A third hulk tore into a Stryker and stared at the terrified soldiers. It immediately began stomping them to death, crushing their bodies like grapes at a winery and bending their steel rifles like they were blades of grass. Then it greedily shoveled the visceral mess into its mouth, holding their souls in its stomach to be returned to Dominion. The hulks’ bodies were entirely self-sufficient, powered by their overabundant souls, and thus, had no need for food and water, but like their Master, they enjoyed indulging their taste buds.
Eating the soldiers was only allowable for hulks who had time to spare, when their comrades had moved past them. Those on the front line had to focus only on killing as quickly as possible. Since they weren’t taking prisoners, their might could truly be put on display. No vehicle, no matter how tough, could resist their strength. They lasted as long as a camping tent trying to hold back ravenous bears. The soldiers inside were either ripped limb from limb or pulverized into bloody pulp. Soldiers opened fire with every bullet they had, they even hurled grenades, but nothing could stop the evil beasts. Theirs was an existence that totally defied the rules of war. There were times in mankind’s history when the word ‘war’ didn’t reply, when events could only be described as ‘slaughter’ or ‘genocide’, like Medieval villages being razed or Jews being pushed into gas chambers. This was something else altogether. This was simply unfair.
Gunfire, explosions, ripping metal, it was all deafening, but the loudest sound of all was the screaming. Young men, boys even, cried like babies as death came for them. When the roof or doors of their vehicles were ripped away like the top of a pudding cup, the cold January air on their faces was like the slash of a lion’s claws, and seeing the demonic faces of their executioners invoked such paralyzing fear, they felt like all the tendons in their limbs had been cut.
Where did they go wrong? How early in their lives did they make a choice that set them on this path? How long ago was their last chance to escape this fate? What did they do for God to forsake them? How badly did they anger him to allow this evil walk the earth? Many soldiers simply snapped while contemplating these questions. Their eyes rolled back and they laughed like madmen as the hulks reached out for them. If only they had known that death was just the beginning.
Camera operators struggled not to look away and give in to their terror, while the field anchors just gasped like fish as they tried to think of something to say. Several of these crews had gone into lawless areas and even warzones to get their stories, but none of them had ever seen something this ghastly. Their viewers were similarly bombarded, the sights before them making them want to retch. There were thousands of hours of footage from the zombie war, kept in museums and shone in school when studying that dark age. Everyone had seen the gore, but this was worlds beyond the nightmare all those years ago. The zombie pandemic had swept over the globe like a poisonous gas cloud, a manifestation of chaos, but there was order in this battle, a sentient will, an evil intent. It was like the territory of these beasts was a pit leading to Hell, with the Devil’s laughter echoing for all to hear, and every step they took expanded it.
As the hulks dealt with the frontline killing, the hounds raced down the highway, dodging eyes and gunfire, only stopping to cripple vehicles. At the moment, it was total gridlock, hundreds of vehicles clogging up the road, thousands of men trapped, but still, it was better to make sure they couldn’t escape.
Hearing the chorus of screams, watching the bloodshed through helmet cameras, the president and his subordinates gawked the horror from the situation room. They were all petrified, staring with mouths hanging open and tear-streaked faces. This had to be a dream, this couldn’t be happening. If this had just been regular humans killing the soldiers, they could handle that. If it was an alien invasion, that would have been something they could respond to. This was truly evil incarnate, the act of a horribly malicious will that sought the agony and slaughter of everyone on Earth. It wasn’t just death, it was the anti-life.
Finally, the president spoke.
“Order a full retreat. Tell everyone who isn’t dead to run for it. Do whatever they need to so they’ll survive.”
No one argued with him, for they had long-since realized that this was the only option. The Navy SEALs had been exterminated, their heavy artillery crushed, their entire Air Force obliterated, and now they were watching the equivalent of a giant lawnmower running over their troops. When this attack was put into motion, the rule was that there was no giving up, no surrender or retreat. No matter what the casualties were, they would annihilate this threat for the good of the human race. This would be the Normandy invasion of the new age. They thought that the soldiers, despite walking over the bodies of their fallen, would plant the flag of victory in Dominion’s back, but this was like trying to fight a black hole, this was like trying to stab a tsunami or shoot an earthquake. There was no hope. There could be no hope.
Those at the very back of the convoy, having received the order, began turning around or just driving backward, trying to open up enough room for their fellow soldiers to do the same and escape. But those who couldn’t see what was going on waited for the way behind them to clear. They thought they had time, they thought their distance from the front meant they were safe. They didn’t know of the bloody hurricane coming their way. Then they saw soldiers running past them, throwing aside everything but their rifles, anything slowing them down. They might as well have dropped their weapons as well, as they were obviously useless. What was going on? What had scared them to the point of running like that?
Others abandoned the highway altogether, jumping the guardrail and heading for the wilderness, hoping to disappear into the trees. Now it was time for the sentinels to act. They weren’t as heavily armored as the hulks, but with their prey facing away from them, they were less likely to shot at. They dove into the wilderness, zooming between trees with horrifying speed and agility. Their extended arms could be used to help pole-vault over obstacles. They chased the soldiers down, attacking from behind and killing them with their bare hands. Sounds of automatic fire filled the forests, but almost all the bullets missed their targets.
A few soldiers were lucky enough to actually kill their pursuers, but despite their physical bodies rendered useless, the spirits within them still belonged to Dominion, and to Dominion they returned.
Once they had finished crippling the vehicles, the hounds helped chase down the fleeing survivors. A pack was chasing down a group of soldiers running through an open field, but they weren’t getting far. What the soldiers thought to be a clear pasture was actually a marsh full of tall, scraggly bush and covered with a blanket of snow. Despite all their training, they wheezed in exhaustion, their strength already drained by the stress of terror. They were wading through a waist-high clusterfuck, with their feet breaking through ice with each step and leaving frigid water to flood their boots. The hounds weren’t having any trouble. They were leaping like grasshoppers to avoid the mess, thanks to their unnatural leg strength. They pounced on the screaming men, their pincers ripping flesh and bone like the jaws of life.
Three soldiers managed to make it out of the marsh, but they weren’t safe yet. Instead, they ran out over a frozen river, deep and covered by thin ice. One by one, they broke through, falling in. One of them went under the ice and drowned. He was the lucky one. The other two, clinging to the ice and trying to pull themselves out while weighed down with their gear, fought with everything they had not to look back at their pursuers. Then it was too late.
By noon, only ten percent of the invasion force remained, the rest slaughtered and most of their souls collected. Sitting in the Situation Room, surrounded by sullen and broken men and women, the president released a deep sigh. There was only one option left: nuclear annihilation.
Many things were lost in the fifty years of death and chaos preceding the reconstruction movement, their value lying in the eye of the beholder. Different kinds of music, historical pieces, cultural norms, and branches of knowledge. Every facet of life was affected or erased when the undead rose up. But what mankind needed most to forget, to lose forever to the ravages of time, was the atomic bomb. It stood as one of mankind’s crowning achievements, as well as its biggest mistake, a power no one should be trusted with. In the beginning of the war, Russia used nukes to try and keep the undead at bay. Any town that had reports of their appearance was wiped off the map, but it caused more death and destruction than it prevented, and only made sure their country never recovered and remained lawless, even a hundred years later. Not since then had any country used nuclear weapons, even during the reconstruction movement when countries started trying to redraw their borders, but Collins was going to break that streak and expose the world to that divine power yet again.
The nuclear football was opened, the codes declared and the orders given. At an undisclosed base out in the Midwest, two nervous soldiers turned a pair of keys and a covered button was pressed. Outside, snow and ice were blasted aside as a silo opened. Smoke and fire poured out like an erupting volcano as the missile’s engines kicked to life. It shot out into the sky, piercing the atmosphere and breaking the sound barrier in its assent. Useless weight and spent thrusters were discarded as it reached the top of its arch just below the threshold of space. Then, it fell, shooting back towards the earth with guidance systems aiming it towards the city of Augusta. This was the B83, the largest nuclear bomb in the American arsenal, with a yield of 1.2 megatons and lethal radius of over thirteen kilometers.
As it flew, the few surviving surveillance planes from the aerial attack were tasked with circling the area from a safe distance, to provide confirmation and a de***********ion of the bomb’s impact. Several satellites and ground forces were also given the task. Everyone in the Situation Room watched the twin feeds as the bomb fell, praying that God would forgive them. Wait, something had just been launched from Augusta, moving towards the missile at the same speed. Some kind of aircraft? Something to intercept it? It didn’t matter. The bomb was already close enough that the explosion would erase the city.
What they didn’t realize was that it was Dominion. Shooting through the sky like Superman, he approached the incoming nuclear bomb. With the Navy SEALs dealt with, Scourge had returned to spying on the president and warned Dominion of this desperate effort. All was going according to plan. He knew the government was watching, they’d want to see his territory obliterated in real time, but he’d deny them that wish. He could easily send the bomb up into orbit, rendering it harmless to him, or he could catch it and deactivate the detonator, letting it fall into his possession, but that would still leave his victims with a shred of hope that their puny weapons could stop him. He had to crush that hope, so that they may drown in despair. The government, the world, had to see what they were up against.
As he flew, his black coat seemed to extend, becoming an aura of darkness around him. It enveloped him while branching out, becoming wings and tentacles made of his diabolical power. Dominion, wrapped in this storm of evil, collided headfirst with the bomb. A flash, bright enough to blind whoever looked at it, lit up the landscape for a hundred miles in all directions, but there was no burst of power, no shockwaves ripping across the surface of the earth and setting fire to everything. Rather, it was a colossal ball of light, floating in the sky. From the situation room, the president and his subordinates watched in utter bafflement, unable to explain this freak event. This was not how a nuclear explosion was supposed to happen.
Stratifying black lines stretched across the surface of the sphere, like a net cast over the sun. Those black lines expanded, swallowing up the light to become an orb of darkness, which then shrank into a black figure, and became Dominion. The surveillance planes had their cameras focused on him, no one knowing what to make of this sight. He then raised one of his hands and that blinding flash reignited, this time with the power and heat that went with it. Rather than released in an omnidirectional explosion, it took the form of a linear blast. It soared up into the atmosphere, visible from Canada and the neighboring states. It branched out once it reached the vacuum of space, splitting into separate beams, and each striking a government satellite. From the monitors of the Situation Room, the president and his cabinet could actually see the blasts coming, the screens going white and then the feed cutting out.
Dominion then swung his arm, unleashing more of the captured energy in a great blade-like wave. It shot across the sky like a flaming tsunami, taking out every surveillance plane and news chopper. One by one, the feeds went dark, every camera obliterated, with the last images being mankind’s greatest weapon turned against them. Dominion, he hadn’t just survived a nuclear explosion, he had consumed it, absorbing its power and then unleashing it. Silver didn’t work, bullets didn’t work, bombs didn’t work, even nuclear weapons didn’t work. Everyone who had witnessed that explosion now realized that nothing on Earth could stop him.
