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The Devastation and Destruction of Destructoid: Prologue - Destructoid

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My fellow internet zombie brethren:

It is my specious pleasure to be addressing you in the fullness of time. My name is Zombie Orwell. You will be hearing a lot from me in the coming months as we ratchet up the intensity of our Zombie Rights Revolution.

I wish all of you safe human-hunting. Please message me (ZOMBIEORWELL@GMAIL.COM) if you have questions or free tacos.

I love you!
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Dearest filthy pervert readers, let us rejoice at the arrival of The Devastation and Destruction of Destructoid (or TDADODTOID). It is a new epic series here on the cblogs. You might have heard of Alternate History. Well, this is Alternate Future. It assumes we will not conquer the galaxy. Haha that is funny because ridiculous!! I have used my mighty mind magic to envision a set of circumstances that could lead us all to our bloody, screaming, crying deaths.

Destructoid: this is your final hour.

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13


Prologue

Jim's glinty, glinty eyes surveyed the Valley of Godless Ruination. Four hours prior, the love of his life had met a bloody end. In happier times, Jim might have made a meta-joke about someone's bloody end, but these were not happy times, as evidenced by the fact that he stood on a hill overlooking a place called the Valley of Godless Ruination. Nothing good can happened at a place with such a foreboding name. Jonathan, he thought. You sexy idiot. What good is it to be so wedded to your fucking duty if you're dead? How does your beloved duty benefit from your death? You sexy, sexy idiot.

Jim had no more tears left. Only rage, and an ache in his heart. He knelt and put his palm to the cool dirt. You belong to the earth now, my love. He saw a rock the size of an Xbox controller. What the fuck did we call it? The Duke? Jim's days as a writer for Destructoid had ended the moment Niero was assassinated by the defector Samit Sarkar. In the half second it had taken Niero's head to fall from his body to the ground, Jim had transformed into a dealer of shrieking vengeance. The video had been posted online as a warning to all members of Destructoid.

“Give us the one who is called Devore,” said Samit. “We will kill one member of your beloved Destructoid every month until Devore is ours.” Samit the Silent, he was called. Good Samit the Silent, tactical is he.Jim remembered the song they sang when their former brother had disappeared. They thought he had been kidnapped by the Polygonals. They were wrong, and their carelessness had cost Niero his head.

Tactical is he. Damn it! It says “tactical” in the bloody song. We should have known.He frowned the frown of a thousand collapsing stars. Then he remembered The Duke and frowned harder. Then... then he remembered the naming of Microsoft's third game console and his frown became death itself. He picked up the rock and clenched it in his gloved hand, forcing it to absorb all of his pain. All of his rage. His grip tightened.

Damn you, Samit. Damn you, Niero. The stone began to glow. Damn you, Microsoft. Damn you for making us scramble to find ways to differentiate between the Xbox and the Xbox One. The stone was red hot and steam was rising from it. His glove was melting. The pleather made popping and hissing sounds. He squeezed harder. And you, Jonathan. You sexy criminal. You left me here to finish this alone. You know I'm not strong enough without you. You KNOW!!

The rock exploded in his hand. Whether from the absorbed rage, or the force of his grip, he couldn't tell. His gaze returned to the Valley of Godless Ruination. He knew not what he would find there, but he knew blood would spill upon the dusty ground.

Mine?

To his left was an ancient corpse, now merely a pile of bones. The feathered end of an arrow protruded from the dead man's rib cage. A sword and a whetstone lay beside him. He was killed while sharpening that pitiful sword.Jim withdrew his own steel, thinking of the joke he might have made, long ago, about sliding a shining sword from its scabbard. His sword was massive, and forged into the shape of a life sized nude Matt Borealis. It glinted like Jim's eyes.

He paused to enjoy the shape of the sword. Matt's curves are as lovely as they are deadly. And Samit will know it, before long. He picked up the whetstone and began sharpening Matt Borealis' curves. He looked yet again at the Valley of Godless Ruination, and shrieked in fury.



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