[ WP ] A mythological tale rewritten as science fiction .

He stood high, and walked straight, the sound of his boots rythmically hitting and leaving the bloodied faces and limbs of the battlefield. There was no doubt or regret in his eyes, in his tiny black pupils that stared at the last standing bunker. 
 
 He was a one-man army, an unstoppable machine of doom, he was judge, jury and executioner, he was a sinister God with combat drugs pumped in his veins. The cocktail was unstable, dangerous, and would have been lethal to any other; it did n't stop him from walking, and killing. 
 
 All around the Galaxy, his name was whispered with dread, or called out by those who could afford to survive the affront, and with each day of work, each slaughter, his prices rose. The rythmic stomping, the steady walk of the man who was raising his rifle to his shoulder did n't stop as he took aim. 
 
 Far from there, concealed in a specialized suit, an invisible man watched. Surrounded by silence, the only noise emanating from his sound detecting scope as that of a determined march, he followed the scene, and the distance could not ease his tension. Nothing could relax the man who was about to take out a divine being of War. The terrible, walking Death omen's name was echoing in his drugged mind. 
 
 A sharp shot's thunder rang in the otherwise silenced battlefield, for this field's battle was already over, and the eye of a bunker's occupant was pierced by the solid projectile. 
 
 The invincible man kept walking, rifle lifted to his black eyes' level, and shot a second time, dropping another body inside the nearly secure construction; sadly for those who had hoped to find refuge within its thick walls, an orbital rocket had landed a direct hit on the bunker, and fractured it enough for a man to shoot through it. 
 
 Not that he really was human, thought the concealed hitman. What he was looking at could walk and talk like any other, but it was n't a man. Whether it had become something else, or always been that way, he did not know, and was n't interested to know. He glanced one last time at the Galactic murderer's trajectory, aimed a few meters in front of him and shot. 
 
 A small electronic device flew through the air, silent from the instant it left its barrel to the one it penetrated a fallen soldier's cranium. Once inside, it quickly took control of the corpse's movement center and prepared to inject a drug powerful enough to awaken the dead for a few seconds, along with a small needle that immediately started traveling to the body's hand. The trap was set, and the hitman directed his weapon back toward his main target, his last job, for he would be among the richest by day's end. 
 
 The one they called Achilles kept walking as he shot a third time, and prepared to shoot a fourth bullet; but, from the ground, a hand rose and hit its palm against his heel, allowing a small metallic object to pierce his skin. 
 
 Achilles was alarmed to feel an attack on his most vulnerable point, and shot his foot onto the guilty hand, crushing with ease all the bones within. As he raised his sight again to scan his surroundings for unexpected opponents, he saw the bullet rushing to meet his forehead; even with all the drugs improving his reflexes, there was no dodging it. 
 
 At the impact, there was no immediate damage; instead, a light and harmless electrical wave ran through Achilles' body, and connected with the needle in his heel. 
 
 Provided with a direct path to the Godlike warrior's body, the light shockwave was focused and pierced through his vulnerable organs, into his brain. 
 
 For the first time in several days, the hitman smiled as he became visible once again, and he let out the breath he'd been maintaining for half an hour. His employer's drugs had all worked wonders, and it was with awe that he stared at the fallen god, laying on the ground amidst the nobodies' bodies. 
 
 
 
 
 

