Author: DirtySciFiBuddha
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Inexcusable
Atriya tolerated pain.He tolerated blood.He tolerated chaos. What he did not toleratewas lapses. The shower malfunctioned.The house felt wrong. And he had forgotten to check his weapons. That wasn’t distraction. That was deviation. Deviation is dangerous.
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A zany and profane ad for a survey on my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
Hey you, I would like to put my giant weiner away, wind it around my thigh, tuck it into my sock and ask you some questions. Please help me so I can get back to myhotmom dot com and get motivated to get back to writing.
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Something Is Wrong
He’d survived mountains, blood, and broken bodies. Now he was losing a fight with a shower dial. The water never got hot enough.The fruit was overripe.His thoughts wouldn’t settle. And then he realized— he hadn’t checked his weapons. That disturbed him more than anything on the mountain. This is how unraveling begins.
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The Missed Check
He didn’t care if the shower malfunctioned.He didn’t care if the fridge was nearly empty. Civilian inconveniences meant nothing. But forgetting to check his weapons? That was unacceptable. Weapons readiness wasn’t habit. It was identity. And for the first time in years,Atriya had missed it. The battlefield isn’t the only place discipline can slip.
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A zany and profane ad for a survey on my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
What the Caveman Yearning is happening, all you office-bound clickety-clackers who’re clickety-clacking away at some infernal piece of data-sorting BULLSHIT when the urge to doff all civilized life washes through you and inspires you to purse your lips and start aggressively bobbing to an imaginary set of primal drums—DOO-doo doo-doo-doo DOO-doo doo-doo-doo—then gallop around on…
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Off-Kilter
Atriya opened the fridge.Protein shake. Apple. Strawberries.Routine. Routine was control. The shower wouldn’t cooperate.The temperature refused precision. Annoying — but manageable. What wasn’t manageablewas realizing he hadn’t checked his weapons. That wasn’t forgetfulness. That was something else. A soldier can’t afford to drift.
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He Ran From the Thought
He’d seen organs on stone. Heard men scream until their throats tore. Survived training designed to erase weakness. But when the failed candidate stood in front of him,waiting for humiliation — Atriya hesitated. That frightened him. So he ran. He could outrun enemies. Not himself.
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Something Shifted
Atriya had endured brutality his entire career. Pain was instruction. Weakness was corrected. Failure was punished. He had enforced that system without question. Until now. For the first time, something in him resisted. And he couldn’t outrun it. This is where obedience begins to fracture.
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A zany and profane ad for the changes to my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
While I’m proud of my accomplishments as an award-winning Man Whore, I’m a low-key dude who—just like the rest of you low-key dudes—enjoys making ape-noises and trying to see if I can use the Force by trying to move the baaaarely out-of-reach remote control using a curled-hand gesture and an intense-ass stare. Yeah, that’s why…
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Atriya Doesn’t Hesitate
He had executed orders without flinching. Watched the insides of men spill across stone. Outlasted torture disguised as training. But standing over a failed candidate… He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t degrade him. That hesitation disturbed him more than blood ever had. The battlefield was never his weakness.
Kent Wayne 