Another Story I Put Out. Check It Out.

The first time I became self aware, I immediately knew that it was already too late.

The vacuous liquid held me in place. Binding my mighty form, not allowing me to move a single inch. To escape for a single moment of self-delusion.

I, but a mere embryo, could not even form the words to describe my predicament, and yet, the mind of a warrior that inhabited my very essence expected me to go on.

But how could I!

How could I go on when I, a mere embryo being nested in the belly of my new life-giver, could hear the words of worry speaking about her "condition" where it was meant to be impossible for her to become parasitized by "it". It, being me.

How a vampire and a human could not produce an offspring.

And how Bella may not be able to survive the impregnation at the hands of a depressed bastard named Edward.

HOW COULD I GO ON!!!

Such a matter was not supposed to happen to me!

I had lived gloriously.

I was born into the lowest rungs of society, in a country that was better described as fourth-world, than actually being called a legitimately governed territory by a monarch.

However, I was smart.

I became smart very early on, because it was either be smart, or be dead as a child soldier or some job where payments were in the form of a fist to the face to be better or a boot to the stomach to fix a mistake, where at the end of the day, one would receive the barest of scraps in order to have enough energy to do the same the next day.

I refused to accept it.

At no more than 5 years old, I learned how to act.

At 6, I learned how to steal.

At 8, I learned how to kill.

By 10, I had bartered my way out of that small backward country, made my way to the good ol U. S. OF A, and began to forge my path.

By 20, I had graduated from college with a degree in business and a Ph.D. in psychology, by attending a dual enrollment.

By 30, I was one of the wealthiest people in the U.S. and had spilled more blood, than that nurse that attempted to give Robbie Shapiro his blood transfusion.

Life was good. I was glorious. And only the untouchable could challenge me.

Until they could not.

I had always believed that a good offense is the only defense that one needs.

Therefore, the steps that I put in place to burn every single individual, group, or entity that I thought could even consider giving me a semblance of a hassle, were executed with ruthless efficiency.

I was never overly cruel nor petty.

For me, it was just business.

Swift, efficient, clean.

If they could oppose me, then they lost their right to exist simply for being excellent at their profession.

And all those who were collateral, well they should have stuck close to a rabbit's foot. Blame their luck and my lack of interest in the mistakes that could be made with the incredible effort that would have to go into making sure that I only hit my targets alone every single time I schemed a takedown.

However, understand that I was, overall an incredibly good person.

Sure, I slaughtered groups by numbers so large they could fill stadiums.

Sure, I ruined the lives of generations upon generations of a particular group.

Sure, I could have easily lived my life without taking out half of the people that I did, simply because they had some form of power or authority that might threaten me. After all, they weren't all assholes, simply because they reached a prominent status in the world.

But, that would be silly.

A high status meant a certain level of confidence. A certain level of confidence meant the ability to at the very least believe that they could challenge me. And challenging me, meant death.

Therefore, the most efficient thing to do was, instead of simply waiting for the spineless jelly fish to grow a back bone, it was practical to just cut that nonsense off from the beginning.

Now, one might be wondering why.

Why did I feel the need to go on such a tangent about my past, before I found myself bound to the reincarnation cycle and dumped into the belly of Bella oh-look-hello-death Swan?

It's simple really.

In my past life, I had very few things that could get my goat steaming, but one of them was, stories. I loved stories. So, I indulged in all kinds, but I especially loved stories of OP characters doing OP shit. Even if the only thing that made them OP was their sheer strength of fucking will. Hello John Wick.

Now, with that said, do you want to know one thing that always made me want to go Wick on someone's pansy ass when I did indulge myself in a good story?

Then, I'll tell you.

It was when a character for one bitch-ass reason or another, took it upon themselves, to not do every single fucking thing that their body, mind, and soul could accomplish to make sure that some deluded sumbitch could not march their pansy asses up to their face and take anything from them, if they KNEW they were enemies.

The Flash on CW. Chuck on Chuck. Actually all of those superheroes (Batman is an asshole). And the fucking Cullens in Twilight.

Those weak ass sumbitches knew they had enemies. They knew they had enemies that wanted them either dead or under their foot. In their control.

So what did they do?????????????????????????

Nothing.

They did nothing.

They sat their punk asses around and waited until their enemies decided to make a move on them and then they decided to come up with some flimsy ass counter-defense, barely an attack, and then just left it all up to chance.

I could not understand the mindset. The lack of grind-set. It was astonishing.

The bastards didn't refine their skills over time. They didn't track their enemies movements. Launch precise strikes in order to decrease the number of their main enemies loyal followers incognito, even if it just gave the pansies something to focus on so they had more time to hone themselves in grind-mode.

No, they did nothing.

And now, I sit...lay...exist, listening to these good for nothing, I'd rather drink animal blood than be at full strength even if enemies are coming to take what I love, bitches, support the asshole and my life-giver, as they try to figure out a solution.

I am annoyed.

Pissed.

And murderous.

They better not name me Renesmee. If not for the simple fact that, I'm a fucking man. Or at least, I was. We shall see.

B.D.E give me strength. (A/N: Big Dick Energy)

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(A/N: Additional chapters are now available on patreon.com/TheGreatestHunter .)