[BF25] Ox's Head

[BoultonPaulDefiant]

"How did it all start? You know the story, we were two gangsters, from the Smoking Tires! We weren't who we are now, we were just scavenging for whatever we could find, just like many others. But we were never like everyone else."

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Two horses were crossing the sun-drenched wasteland. In their saddles were two riders, just as exhausted as their steeds. Their sweat made them as wet as if there was a rainfall, but the only thing in the sky was a red star, too close for any person to survive. Long ago, there used to be a colony, people living under safe domes. Other people lived on the poles where the climate was bearable. But war had arrived. Domes had fallen. Poles had been poisoned. Nobody was safe anymore, not from the environment, not from another person, not from the heat.

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"Then? We found it."

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One of the horses fell. They left it behind, unburied, and continued on a single horse. Then the second steed lost its strength. So they were walking on their feet, desperate to find anything that would prolong their pitiful existance. The sun didn't set, as if it was mocking them. Like a kid with a spyglass incinerating ants. The two didn't stop. They knew it meant death. Even when one fell, the other carried them. Each one would do this for the other. Finally, they stumbled upon a cave. Seeing it as an opportunity for rest from the sun and the exhaustion, they entered it.

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"What was it like? Like nothing I've ever felt before. You know the feeling, when you hear a song you like for the first time? It was like that, but much stronger. We finally found a true purpose, a mission!"

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Three hours. That's how long they were lying asleep inside. They didn't dream. They never slept much longer and it was enough rest to continue the journey. The cave offered shade and relative cold. They hoped for some water, from the moisture on the cave walls, but they were completely dry. When they woke up, instead of coming out of the cave, they ventured deeper, lighting the way with one, weak flashlight. They weren't searching for water. They didn't really know what they were searching for. Eventually they found the end. The death. Eschatolog.

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"Since then we are who we are. End of the story."

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Seven minutes was enough for Eschatolog to convince the two gangsters. They didn't understand at first. But it didn't matter, because Eschatolog did. It had calculated that they'd come to it. It spoke to them. It spoke of death and of life. Neither of these concepts was alien to them. Then it spoke of immortality. It filled them with rage. They were struggling to live, while people struggled to die. They put on their masks and with them, their new identities. They became something more than two gangsters. Just like in ancient legends, the horse that carried the great conqueror, now they'd be the mount of the greatest conqueror.

Bucephalus.

-----

"Kill the immortals!
Destroy the indestructible!
Burn the ashes!
Extinguish the stars!"
The two voices spoke in unison.

[bertinator]

Concept & Theme: 7/10
Form: 7/10
Voice: 7/10
Style: 13/20
Presentation: 7/10

[lunchboxninja]

Concept and Theme--9/10
Form--6/10
Voice--8/10
Style--12/20

Presentation--6/10

[Scratch]

Concept & Theme: 7/10
Form: 6/10
Voice: 8/10
Style: 16/20
Presentation: 7/10