Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Alpha and Omega ❯ Prologue

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: Its mine! All mine! No one but me owns this! Muwahahahaha!



It was raining again. Oh how I hate the rain….though I suppose I should be grateful to have clean water over my currently dirty flesh. Still….all this cold and wet doesn’t please my joints.

I’m just not suited for this place, though I suppose if I was better clothed the elements would not plague me so. Ill fitted and tattered would be an accurate description of my….aggressively acquired apparel shall we say?

The shops of this place are not use to catering to people of my size it would seem. So the biggest pair of “Jeans” I could locate, a very large sweating shirt and a leather “trench coat” are what I have to make due with.

Perhaps if I were better funded I could visit one of those “specialty stores” I have heard of. But this place is not like my home. Where I come from it is fairly easy to come across various employment.

Not so here…one must have “references” and sit through “interviews” and other such nonsense. Even the various “odd jobs” I have located are rather…fruitless, the people are either mistrusting due to my appearance, or the pay is hardly worth the effort.

Apparently one must have some form of paperwork and “I.D.” Or they are taken to be an “illegal.” It would also seem this label gives them the thought that they may treat me poorly and pay me little.

I do not understand, all I wish to do is cloth and feed myself while on my mission.

Barter is also not acceptable here it would seem, I have discovered that service will not be accepted for goods. Which is probably about the dumbest thing I have ever heard.

I will admit to being more then a little disgruntled when I broke into a shop late at night, I caused far more damage then necessary. It was spiteful yes, but so were the words the “manager” spoke to me. I was not stealing, I was ATTEMPTING to purchase. It is not my fault everyone’s rules keep me from short term employment. It is also not my fault I have not been allowed to work for what I need.

Thankfully not all places have been like the rest, I did manage to find temporary sources of funds at a farm and a dock. The farm was far better, though the dock did pay more. It would seem even in this twisted, backwards place that good hard labor still has value.

The family that owned the farm, the Witlets, were very kind to me, much more understanding of my situation, and seemed to be in line with my thoughts on how the world should work. If you hire someone to perform difficult manual labor you should see to it that they have food and shelter correct? It is like that in my home.

Not so at the dock, I was “fired” for sleeping in a damp, foul warehouse. What did they expect? I told them I had nowhere else to go.

The Witlets however allowed me use of their barn, which was warm and dry, and fed me three to five times a day. That’s all I need, that is all I have ever needed.

It was difficult to hide my….biological differences from tem, but I do admit….I was a bit sad to have to move on.

Still…what funds I have often been able to scrape together have at times been depleted by my physical actions. Again…not my fault. Whoever thought of using green paper over hard metals? Foolish…and easily destroyed.

I can not quite describe the feeling of being famished after a very long day, only to reach into your pocket and find your money has turned into wet mush.

It would not be as much of a problem for me if hunting was not only scarce, but restricted. I am not a hunter born, nor trained, but I am physical superior to the creatures I have encountered, and I must assume, as they appear to be made of meat, that I can eat them.

However it seems here one must have some type of license, otherwise one will be accosted by “Authorities.”

I dislike the “Authorities.”

So put simply…for the last five years I have been weather worn, tired, and hungry. I know I should not complain, and it truly is not my nature, my task is far to important for such pitiful hardships to even factor it.

But I do not like it here.

It does not matter, my innermost feelings on this place do not matter, nor does the daily strain.

None of it matters.

All that matters is finding You.

I must find You.

Five years I have been searching, five long years.

I never once thought this would be so difficult. But it is…the odds are unbelievably stacked against me. Not just the sheer amount of people on this world, nor the incredible distance I have already traveled and still have yet to travel.

But I do not even know Your name here, nor Your face.

I am trekking across this mass of land known as “America” for but one person….

Are You even here?

How can I possibly hope to find You?

When I first arrived here those five years ago, I was supposedly sent to Your very location. After I had regained my wits about me, I had caught Your scent on the wind, or what I assume was Your scent. It did stand out above all others as I had been told it would, I pursued it, which was not easy, once I reached this place called an “Airport”…it seemed like the entire place was designed to delay me from reaching You.

I did manage to elude discovery, I did have to leave the place entirely, and locate the vessel You were on.

Stowing away on it had taken some work as well. Many of the other vessels has been stopped and were being checked, perhaps due to my disturbance when I first arrived, but Yours was already part way off the ground! I feared for You then….magic is hard to trust….machines even harder.

Thankfully I had the cover of night to aid me. It had not been easy to squeeze in with the luggage, and after a while it became difficult for me to breath, as if the air was….very thin. Fortunately I am the hardy sort.

I didn’t know how the machine worked, and I dare say I could never understand even if told, and it worried me that You were on it. What if it fell? Surely it could not stay up forever.

Yet I knew if I made my presence known it would only cause a panic. I did not want to cause more trouble. Especially not for You.

Plus…as ashamed as I am to admit it….I was exhausted, I needed rest. The trip here may have been only a few minutes, but it had been so very draining on me.

I had almost felt more then “Slight” discomfort. Again…magic is hard to trust.

To be truthful I had been uncertain about what would happen as I was sent through, but my body being magically shredded into tiny pieces and somehow shot through an entire plane of existence, then reassembled on the other side was….not something I had ever prepared for.

I thought I could rest myself for a short period, forty five minutes, and hour. But the sleep I fell into was far deeper then my usual. I was finally awakened by a startled servant come to collect the belongings I had been using as my bedding.

Fearing I would have guards summoned upon me, which would only waste more time, I regretfully rendered the servant unconscious. I did not enjoy that, I hope I did not cause lasting harm, he was only doing his duty, something I understand well.

Leaving my hideaway I was dismayed to find Your scent weak, it was there, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from or where it was going.

And I have not caught it again since.

I am sorry. I should have never allowed myself to fall asleep. Will You forgive me I wonder?

But I must say, I do not feel I can truly count on my sense of smell. My senses are not…heightened, no the are…attuned.

Supposedly anyway.

It was explained to me during the augmentations that my new nose, if you want to call it that, it really is my old nose after all, would be able to detect Your scent regardless of how many others might have covered it.

At the time that sounded great, highly useful really, but in hindsight there have been a few….glitches. Most glaringly is that my brain is simply unable to process the information it is being given. I just do not work that way, my people are known for our sharp eyesight, but our sense of smell is truly nothing beyond average.

So while I can tell the scent is there, I cannot distinguish certain important things. Like distance and direction.

Please do not be offended but I must say I feel I have been inadequately prepared for this from start to finish. One would think that with a matter as important as You, all of our resources would be devoted to it.

Yet I was sent through with nearly nothing a stitch of clothing, a few magical tools to contact home with, had magical mayhem wracked upon my person, not just my senses but also the fundamentals of the “English” language were forced into my brain.

As you can imagine my command of the language is lacking…but what can I do?

Still….none of this would matter, not conditions, the magic played upon my person, if I just had a clue, something, ANYTHING to go on.

I’m sorry, I know I’m rambling, I know that in truth I’m talking to myself but….sometimes it makes me feel better. To think that I am speaking to You, informing You of my progress.

I am lonely. My reports home are largely ignored simply because I haven’t anything new to say in five years.

Why won’t they help me? What could possibly be more important then You? It is yet another reason I must find You, so that you can set this mess straight.

Again…forgive me but….I find myself losing hope, and for that I am ashamed. I will gladly accept punishment.

*sigh*

No! No! I must not lose focus. This is too important. YOU are too important.

I must find You.

I must.

I MUST!

Nothing else matters.

Break my limbs.

Cut out my eyes.

Drain my blood.

Beat me.

Poison me.

Just let me find You.

If I can just find You…then nothing else matters.

I wonder…one as great as You, even locked away as You are…..do You know I am looking.
Can You feel me?

Can You hear me?

Master….my Master…..