door. A single, glowing, dark door. It stands ahead of me, menacingly. Every so often, sparks shoot off the open door, a blood red portal to a dimension of beings that monsters are afraid of. But I do not fear them, for I am one of them, and they can not hurt me, no matter how hard they try.
The humans call me Eternal, because of my inability to feel pain, to be hurt, to age. My own kind call me Rogue, for I was one who broke away from the mindless creatures who only wish to draw blood. I became sentient. I have yet to find out what made me the way I am, but I escaped from the dimension I lived in. I resented my past, of how I would mindlessly attack and kill anything that fought back. I had loved to draw blood. The sight of my prey writhing in pain made me excited. Even now, within the confines of my gifted intellectual mind, I still feel the urge, the want, to bring pain and terror to those around me.
I had spent many years with the humans, in their own world, their home. Their scientists spent the first three years I came there, testing me. They wanted to know how I became sentient. They wanted to know everything about my race. They found out nothing though. How I could have become sentient, how, why, what, they do not know.
The human's military trained me: How to fight, how to use their advanced technology, and despite my dark red glow, to blend. They were planning to use me against their enemies, when it happened.
The door appeared.
The scientists had been trying to get into my realm, a foolish thing to do, I may add. They succeeded in creating a doorway, a doorway into a rift; a rift between their dimension, and mine. Scouts were sent through the rift, and were swiftly killed when they met my kind. My kind began to slowly pour through the rift, searching for prey to kill, blood to draw.
The humans fought back, but they were dying too easily. My race, even without the technology of the advanced humans, was winning. Their pure blood lust dulled all pain, and gave them power.
They humans were desperate. They couldn't close the door, or the rift. So they began to build inside the rift. Their technology was placed in the rifts floor and ceiling, allowing them to construct mechanically sentries, and deadly traps on the ground. They could have left them to destroy any of my kind that poured through, but they were paranoid. They had scouts stay inside the rift, to care for the machines and to fight my kind. It worked; for a few days.
They scientists found that if humans stayed in the rift too long, they began to mutate. To change; into one of my own. They had no way to guard the machines that kept my kind at bay, to keep an eye on the destructive power of my kind.
Until I made a decision.
I had grown attached to the humans over the years. And so I told the humans of my plan.
I would take their scouts place, and stay in the rift to fight my own kind. I would be taught how to care for the sentries and traps, and I would be equipped with weapons of my own, to battle the seemingly endless waves of my own, bloodthirsty, kind. The humans agreed to do so. They gave me a machine, with which I could communicate with the humans, and store the things I had grown to like, as in music and games, on it for access. I would have to communicate daily with the humans, and I would be sent weekly supplies, even though I felt no need to eat, to drink, to sleep, or to even move.
They taught me how to repair the machines, and they would continue to work on creating more advanced versions of the weaponry already inside the rift.
I stood confront of the doorway, and I could hear the machines already firing their endless supplies of bullets, grenades, and acid. I turned to the humans who there to "see me off". They watched me solemnly. I guess they had become attached to me as well.
One scientist told me they would find a way to close the door, and then they would be able to bring me back. I simply listened, nodded, and then turned to the doorway, which had become unsettlingly quiet.
I walked inside.
The rift was interestingly small. It consisted of three platforms attached to a rocky surrounding. On the topmost platform stood the doorway to my world; on the bottom one sat the door I had traveled through. Throughout all three platforms sat traps and hung guns, ready to open fire and attack my kind.
I gripped the handgun they had left me with, climbed to the topmost platform, stood before the blood red portal, and waited.
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