NAKED

A warrior waited
He stood naked
Rolling his shoulders
Rippling muscles
Across his torso
As brothers oiled
His flesh
Until it gleamed
With physical dread

A loin cloth tied
An undershirt
Placed and bound
Upon his flesh
Wired blocks
Taped to a vest

A bronze cuirass
Fixed in place
Buckled to
His chest

The God Emperor encased in gold, gleaming, blinding the eyes of his servants, advisors and slaves: all bent down on quivering knees before him. The God Emperor perched on his thrown as his silver talon hands glistened in the midday sun. An explosion erupted, tore apart a pavilion to the right of the God Emperor, shredding, casting body parts and blood upon the winds. The God Emperor screamed, pointed at the butchered scene.
Messengers came scraping, crawling on their bellies before his glaring, growling gloriousness. The messengers groveled and mumbled and wept their information to the advisors
The God Emperor rose and pointed his talon encased finger at the clutch of advisors,
‘WHAT EVIL MAGIC BE THIS? SPEAK!
Advisors as one rolled upon the carpeted ground with their mobiles to their ears while tearing their clothing from their flesh, wailing for forgiveness from their most glorious living being; the God Emperor.
The facts streamed in to the advisors’ mobiles. The information gleamed by the advisors was that the Grand Vizier was no more. The news of the Grand Vizier’s demise arrived upon the God Emperor’s blackberry. And with this knowledge down the steps the he strode. And with his left hand he locked his grip around an advisor’s throat and then he lifted the advisor above the earth. The God Emperor began to choke the advisor until the advisor’s face turned pale black which followed with a neck snap leaving the advisor’s eyes looking as empty as the clear blue sky above.
The God Emperor once more pointed down at his advisors who were now scratching and clawing their flesh, wailing and weeping. Each and every advisors feared they might be next to embrace death’s last kiss. The God emperor looked upon his advisors with contempt upon his lips,
‘SPEAK’
Within the clutch of advisors one weak and quivering voice replied,
‘Sp…artans. It… was… Spartans.’

Radio
Controlled
Trigger
Strapped
To his palm

His
Brother soldiers
Saluted him
His commander
Embraced him
Praised him
Called on Ares
To guide him

Off he marched
Then jogged
And finally
Ran
Into the heart
Of Persian’s
Army
The Spartan
Suicide bomber
Unleashed his
Fury

The 300
Were now
Less one.