Armageddon

This is a novel planked in a universe that occupied our orbital space before it painted its own doom. The murder of the king/president of that world triggers a chain of events that unfold, to arc the doom hammer. The saga of a disgusted detective for whom the wheels turn to make him a man destined to garb the clothes of a .......... Read more to know more.

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15. A Lava of thoughts

Hades, Hades, Hades the words rung through Zeus’s head, the perpetual mantra was the purview of Zeus’s reflection zone. Having been dropped at the parapets of the fortifying walls of the fort, Zeus was deliberating upon his situation. There was a feeling, what they called gut intuition to Zeus, that things were going haphazard. He had long ago aced traipsing towards gut feelings, though most of the times they rung true, his mind was usually laced with factual whispers of truth.

The pandemic anger was perforating, he was feeling the love, of what, he knew not. But there was a nagging in his brain; a question had advanced through the development stages. The question never ceased to exist, but its existence was omnipresent and translucent. Why was he saving this world? Why was destroying his kindred soul? Why had he been ushered into this playground of destruction?

The answers rapped at the threshold, but never did they enter, they exuded a sense of bedazzlement. The parapet walls were cold, and as he leaned against them, the thoughts converged and melted into one. And the goal that the breeding wrought was the same as before the fusion. His longing to die, his lunge to cease and his penchant towards heroics were a diesel that never were. Maybe there was an inverted universe where he was a hero. All he needed to do was try.

Lurched back into the sphere of reality, Zeus tiptoed along the ground, and surveyed the minefield he was about to tread upon. The ridiculous yet fascinating structure of the fort beckoned at him and a sly grin drew across his face, his death was near.

A small rock held bridge flocked his vision field, and his periphery was colored with steel railings. Plodding through this section would lead to an arch and into the fort. But convoluting and corrupting this easy passage was a guard who couldn’t eye Zeus. Passing through him was the only passage of solace. Zeus quickly architect-ed an easy yet complex plan.

Zeus made naked his body by censoring the dress from it. He expunged the propeller from under the tunic and diffused blood into it. The festering wound in his body being the source he was drawing the deception device. He re-inserted the propeller and concealed it from layman’s view.

Playing on luck that the security would chose to probing before calling upon his colleagues, Zeus tossed the dress into the water and went to the other side of the bridge aisle. The distance between him and the security being not more than 10 ft, Zeus hoped the security would sight the blooded fabric.

He hoped the synergy of the dress and the blood would lure him into the junction where the parapets met the bridge aisle. As conjured by Zeus, the guard did make an appearance. As he turned right, Zeus sprang from the thicket of darkness and cupped the guard’s mouth.

With the other hand, Zeus strangled the neck and pushed down the same. Caught between the dilated eyes and the bewilderment of the element of surprise, the guard went down the ground. Zeus towered over the guard and swayed forth by the ecstasy of victory; Zeus brought down his knees and punctured the guard’s nasal activity.

Having jumped the first hurdle, Zeus disposed the body to the other side of the aquatic walls. He walked the space and closed upon the fort. He entered the fort and the pungent smell of something invaded his nostrils. Not being able to discriminate the smell and disparaged by his lack of knowledge, Zeus scrutinized his surrounding his feelings tainted.

Upon the adjustment of vision, Zeus construed the palace was narrow in nature. In his abjured predicament, a weapon would have catapulted his uncouth thoughts against death. But what could a bottomless wannabe detective do to save the world. The nuances and the clichés of death were lacerating his soul and even at the portico of the thwarter Zeus felt like a loser.

Rampaged and raped by the abstract mockeries of death, Zeus decided to use the leverage. With a red streaked eye, a grit determination and an instinct backed negotiation, Zeus decided to martyr himself. He started ascending the spindle spiraling stairway and escalated to the first floor, before being knocked by an invincible opponent. Zeus laughed.   

 

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