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His hands were drenched in blood.
He felt… empty on the inside. Unsatisfied. As he stood over the bodies of countless people he’d killed in his rampage, he felt nothing but a growing sense of dissatisfaction. Why was it so boring now? He’d been doing this for so long…
Blood. Blood. Blood. The voices never stopped. It demanded for more, more, MORE, M̴̼̺͖̪͙̝̳̭͓͕̪͍̃̉͂̈́͑̆̒͛͜͝O̶̞̯̪̹̭̹͖̜̟͈̻̪̥͓͂̌R̷̢̢͎͔̺̪̘̞̬̲̱̝̘͍̟͋̿͋̓̂̄͘͝E̶̢̡͍͈̝̬͉̘̺̍͑͐͑̓̕͝ͅ, and Techno wanted to give in but he didn’t feel like it. He felt bored. Bored.
“T-Techno? Oh my god…”
Phil?
The war pig turned around slowly, wearing a poker face. There the angel stood, wings black as night, as his wide eyes surveyed the mess that he’d made. “Oh my fucking god…”
“Phil,” His voice sounded hollow even to himself. Phil’s eyes made their way back to his.
“Techno?”
“Leave.”