Brian Blank

I still have no idea what my mind was thinking when I wrote this idea. My heads odd bursts of intermittent inspiration about the concept is honestly annoying.

“Ash you won’t last one day out there on your own. I won’t give you any weapons to use as you pursue your own self-righteous mission,” my mentor said.

“You have been training me since I was young, molding me into a warrior. I don’t need a weapon, I already am one,” resisting the urge to punch the nearby wall. Letting the anger and the energy course through me, feeling invincible. “You have had me fight against the ones you bring in, what makes this any different?”

“You’re still don’t understand, do you. A pure-blooded neo-human in an uninhibited state would be difficult to capture without injury. Most of the ones you have fought against are rejects with mixed blood. Making them nothing before neo-humans who have more blood purity. I do recall teaching you that, Ash against the wishes of your father. “

Punching the wall in anger, before remarking “That was then and this is now. My father is out fighting for survival, I can feel he is still alive. Now get out my way before I throw you aside,” glaring at him, confident I could toss him across the room.

My mentor chuckled sliding his right foot back, bringing left hand forward. “You are welcome to try, Ash,” he remarked.



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