Rewriting Evil

In Promo by Chronoa

Many moons ago, there was this disturbance in a far off galaxy. They said it was a planet subdugated by some mad mans desire for immortality, that he had decimated what should have been a gleaming beacon among the stars and broken billions of lives in weeks.

So many threads of fate broken by a single man that galaxy’s web lay in tatters so they not only sent me, they sent out their other, experimental attack dog.

Something called a Shingami.

I argued against this, one single man wasn’t a match for the powers they gave me and it’s not like his words could sway his judgment. I’d never felt a drop of remorse or regret for feckless assholes who threaten innocent lives with their greed and lust for power. Yet they wouldn’t be swayed.

Because they knew all along what they were hiding from me.

I found not some mad broken sociopath but a terrified scientist who used a long since abandoned world to find a cure for an impossible disease. To find a way to fix the shitty hand fate had dealt those he loved. A good man who knew exactly who I was and why I was there, yet didn’t fight but accepted his fate on one condition.

One more day with her.

It was the least I could do and no harm would come for twenty four hours of life for a man who hadn’t succeeded in his goal. So I watched, and pondered, and grew to know them a little as they reminded me of the family I’d lost long ago.

But I had a job to do and no one life is worth a universe. So when that day passed, I readied myself to be coated in innocent blood once more. Yet I hesitated, even for a moment and that demon showed me what he did best.

Two bodies were left on that world, one destined by fate and the other…a helpless little girl used so he’d an excuse to write a name.

Some may say we’re the same side of a coin but I despise what I do. I hate that good people suffer because of the universe’s backwards rules but I have seen the alternative and how the best of intentions can deliver everything to ruin.

It’s a necessary evil, nothing more and unlike you Deathnote, I will never enjoy those final moments in what I do.

You revel in chaos and carnage, flaunt that fucking book like it’s some religious tome for every pathetic sociopath you draw into your web. Billions erased with a single flourish of ink and yet through the liberal use of loopholes and technicalities, you never draw the ire of fate.

But just because I can’t erase you doesn’t mean I can’t make you suffer

So go on, write my name bitch. Even if you knew what it truly was, you could fill notebook after notebook and I’d keep coming for your throat. Because when I’m done, you’ll be terrified to even pick up a pen.

A so called god brought to his knees by fate itself.

That’s an ending I will never hesitate to write.