On a quiet Dublin street behind a black iron fence within the shadows of an old brick house, there sits a man, tall and slim, he gazes through a virtual weapon with an eery grin, lapping up his vicious plan, designing and creating a new age of terror.
His mind of madness has conjured up something so horrendous, not even the elite could prevent this.
He laughs as he programmes his robotic minions, filling drones with poison and explosives, soon he will rain down his deathly grimace from the comfort of this decrepit dwelling.
The virtual reality headset gives off a blue glow against the absence of light, he practices late into the night, simulating his final descent.
Here in lies multiple deaths, an attack on freedom and love, and I, watching from the shadows of the invisible subconscious, tasting stale air as I stand idle within the corner of the unidentified frequency
I'm in remote view, within the confines of my own personal antenna, projecting all that I have to offer, building a case against this former human, a blueprint of another preventable massacre.
I will soon shed light upon his deceptive task, not before I gather vital intelligence as to the whereabouts of his migrant clan, there ability to conceal behind the everyday, hinders law and justice.
His age old belief welded with modern technology gives him an air of superiority, but he is outdated.
I am the new age of modern warfare, a faint profile at the corner of his eye, rubbing his paranoid mind
He and his kind will be forever inhabited by the dominant cranium of my ever evolving abilities, I shall see out his end and dissolve the negative impact that his hate has inflicted upon this earth.