I am an Omega Borg, one of the greatest warriors of the invading forces. I was designed only for destruction, to strategize and react with deadly precisions. It's been countless years since I was abandoned on this savaged mountaintop. I was content to wait with stoic complacency, but nature now creeps back up the lonesome peak, strangling it with new life. How strange it is that the trilling of these tiny birds might warm a heart that isn't there. I was built to destroy, but where would the honour be in killing this fragile creature? Perhaps I should rethink my ethos of existence. This simple song has done away with so much of the bleak ennui of this mountain. Perhaps... this is real power?

I am the lord of all the transients, miscreants, vermin, and garbage that have been rejected by the sickeningly immaculate world above. Those abandoned by the 'decent' sect of the world and thrust unto the raw death-sludge of the sewers beneath. Your neglect and wastefulness only fuel my dark dominion and we are steadily overtaking your vile stain under the wretched sun. And I will ride forth upon my kingdom of filth and smother out the flames of your lives.

I reach toward the hallowed yonder above as my flesh is rent from below. I am taken and forcibly torn and rent... changed into some abomination without a will to call my own. Life ceases in the flesh and the mind and nothing fills my profane chasm except hatred. The presence of our vile kin brings even this mountain’s inhabitants to reckless violence. We know nothing else.