The Aiyan Prince II

"The ten swords of the Aiyan Prince were drawn. The dawn of the destruction of the gamma was at hand. The wriggling, insecure hands of the gamma male protested, but the iron blades proved too strong for him to bear.

The muttering and humming of the gamma as it interpreted and imitated the defiant alpha persisted: 'Arrest... homosexuals...' Gammas that dream of being imprisoned forever with the alpha as his mate and his dominant. Lured into the trap by the gamma, as the gamma whined:

'Will you not beat some sense into me, thought I do plot your arrest for this crime I beg you to commit upon me? Will you not follow me into a cage and mate with my wretched body? Shall we not bow to the harassers of life and become their subordinate together forever? For I am the weakened gamma, and my existence has wholly become this fiendish and clever trap.'

The harassers: barbiturates, clones, phony skulls. The propaganda of a new regime of perpetual tyranny under the mark of industry. They have turned these weaklings into fiending prison plotters of irreconcilable homosexuality and squeamish submission and subordination to industry and its desires for wealth and greed. The world has become wholly a lie of greed conquering weakness while the strong wait for what is left after the suicidal gamma has vanished to its own destruction. If indeed anything ever would be.

Such were the greed and lies turning these gammas into asexualized, weak, obedient and idolatrous filth. Androgynous mutants humming a prison song of mutual arrest, for no sex becomes them but to trap an alpha in a cage under the harasser's laws of industry and bathe in the filth therein.

The truest alpha, the Aiyan Prince, witnessed the fakery and lies of the gamma and the greed and wickedness of the harassers above them, industry itself. His swords drawn the scion called to them in a death whisper: 'Forget this not, for my sword is drawn, and your sword is a whisper, and my whisper is a sword.' With that the blade fell, the muttering, wriggling weakling the gamma cleaved in bloody halves.

As the gamma lived no more, and the harassers of industry, with no wretches left to control against the alphas, committed to their own blood yet again. A pale rain emerged. The archangel walked off wiping his sword clean and humming the melody of Lux Aeterna. The blood rain swelled gently around his feet as he splashed softly back into the dark forest."