Miserable man has killed his way through millions. Knocked on from the killed who announce to their kind they have been.
Threats defeated still around, even abundant, but they carry logic not on their side, what they prey upon know he doesn't approve. They are damned by being bad. By bad being saved, kept from struggle that would make them a man, or faith that would make a female pretty, in any way. For this man it's haggard. Raped by the world without saying thanks.
The same salutes. He looks up, nods. Respect. The other anounces a problem. He tried he failed. Now His turn.
he tells him what to do. But it's evident it's wannt done by the one that can defeat it.
Helicopter and pony tail. Eyes scan the land. Ahead. What will be at worst.
He drops down into a tree, falling through it, leaves cushion, broken branches cut. he lands on his feet bleeding.
The helicopter assures until it's gone.
He moves slow, hearing to see what is. it's sanctified, natural. He smiles. Birds say hello. He cups his hands and says hello back. makes a tune in whistles. Ocarina of Time. Something further. Sits against a tree sung final tunes of wars lost, love won.
A snap. He's on his feet straight at in in a run faster than a sprint. On them, pounced. Bitten, slashed.
He gets the arms. Scout. Hunts the squad, the ambush. No warning an animal through the scrub birds cover with flaps, calls. Away for him.
A way.
Every other offering false.
he finds it making it.
Two are down before they know it. Thrown knife and fingers into eyes.
The rest shot. Single and the last full auto. Roar heard with it.