<div class="floatright">(http://i1099.photobucket.com/albums/g393/theredfear/MaleCharPics/img-carlos-bocanegra_1155538764412.jpg)<strong><br/>Dom (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=150938.msg6869979#msg6869979)</strong><br/><strong>Location:</strong> Bus<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> The Birth of a Conqueror <br/><strong>Tagged: </strong> Sara<br/><hr/></div><br/><br/>Anger he would have enjoyed. Contempt he would have laughed at. Fear would have been had contempt for. But disappointment... that was...bothering him. For lack of a better way to describe it. Which was why he was still talking, instead of raping. Still blocking, instead of dragging. Here he had worked up a nice monologue and still she sat there as if someone had just shot her puppy.<br/><br/>"More? Look around Sara. This is it. Dirt and blood. There is no 'more'. The only way to get anything more is to claim the best peice of dirt out there...and be willing to pour a whole lot of blood into it.  " Perhaps a more accurate metaphor than he realized. For blood...like manure...could go a long way to making dead land fertile for crops again. Though he probably didn't realize that.<br/><br/>"Might is the only true Right left. Hell, it was always the only true Right. And nobody will ever weild more might than me. Nobody." Those last words were spoken with a feirce determination. The determination of someone with something to prove.<br/><br/>His mind drifted off. Old memories. A woman the iron Fists had enslaved. She had been something of a nanny. In the old world she had been something called a history professor. She had told him many stories about the old world. Mostly about significant historical figures...especially the military leaders. Those were his favorites. Alexander, Cesar, Washington, Patraeus. And she told him alot about how the old world had been just before it died. "The weak are the reason the old world died. The old countries, the old politics. Petty backstabbers and greedy cowards. Smug moralists. Divided nations. Nobody with the will and strength to unify all the factions. Enough resources to populate whole new worlds pissed down the drain to appease the weakest and most useless masses with crippling entitlements that none of them even deserved, let alone earned. Even the greatest nations of the old world were crippled with weakness. Paralyzed with fear that their sniveling masses would unleash a terrible protest, and wave crudely crafted signs around if they brought their real military might to bare on their enemies. By the time they were willing to do what they should have done from the beginning it was too late. Cosmic fire claimed everything. The weak killed the old world. But strong will be the ones who give birth to a new world."<br/><br/>In a way it's like he wasn't even talking to her anymore. As if words that had been floating around in his subconscious for years were only just now making themselves as known to him as they were making themselves known to her. He had always known he wanted power, and control. But only now as he spoke those words for the first time was he himself coming to apprecciate the true scope of what he intended. " I will drag every tribe, every town, every clan of raiders kicking and screaming into the future. And they will hate me for it, as you hate me now. They will spit my name. But<strong>I</strong>will be the reason they have enough moisture in their mouths to waste it on spitting."<br/><br/>He looked down at her, as if just then remembering she was still in the room. Without another word he turned and walked back toward his bedroom...and closed the door behind him. He just left her there, topless and aching on his couch. Her shirt crumbled on the floor in front of his room. Free now to leave, if she still wanted to. Though nothing he'd said before about the risk of doing so had changed.<br/><br/>(http://i1099.photobucket.com/albums/g393/theredfear/SettingPics/WeaponsAndVehicles/Bus_02.jpg)