delted's slippa dawg temp (thanks Behapp)

'Ight:

George looked around the millions and millions of acres that made up his industrial empire. For miles, buildings rose into the heavens, all filled with dedicated workers working intensely on whatever task they were hired to do. Could be some sort of manager or some sort of clerk. Honestly, George could care less. All he cared about was all those units of biotic code were reinforcing the coded exterior that made up not only their world but his wealth and status.
He straightened his bloodied tie before brushing his bloodied suit. He knew he should go home and take a shower but he just couldn't. There was something about the feeling of blood against his suit that was so...rejuvenating. So...sigma. He chuckled at the thought. Sigma...when was the last time he heard the word, 30...40 years ago?
He walked back to his desk, removing the body of the leading rebel who had the idiotic of trying to remove him from power. They were angered about...some new decision he made... Something about how... he was playing God or some other nonsense. It didn't matter now. They got what they had coming to them.
He sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, still pondering where in his past he heard such a word. Good Lord, it really was a while back. He was so deep in focus, that he almost didn't hear the pained groans of an approaching rebel. The key word being almost. Without even opening his eyes, he heard the rebel drop whatever weapon they must have found and begin gagging. He smiled a little, picturing the rebel being lifted into the air, their eyes watering as their face began to turn a blueberry blue as they desperately tried to breathe. It was a beautiful image, mostly because George knew that was exactly what was happening.
When George was young, middle school age, at least, he discovered something that would change the very foundation of his life. He had the ability to control...anything. He could control people's thoughts, their actions, anything a person could do, he could make them do.
And it didn't stop with just people. All the creatures and all plants bend down to his thoughts. Hell, even the elements bent down to him. He was, essentially, the god of his world.
Then he remembered. A memory buried so deep he forgot that it was even there. A memory that...

He paused.
Oh.
He understood.
It began as a snicker, before forming into a giggle, before uncontrollable laughter spilled from his lips.
Oh, he understood, alright.
Way back when, sometime in his middle school years, a group of older kids, possibly in the 10th grade, had made his existence a living hell. They did everything their tiny brains could to create a unique experience for George. From stealing his lunch to stripping him nude for birthday beatings, George lived in fear of what those four pipsqueaks could do. For five years, they made his existence worthless, for 10 YEARS, they thought they controlled George Becker, making him feel worthless.
But that all changed once his 7th Grade. That was the year he discovered his godly abilities. That was the year he made THEIR lives a living hell. No. Hell was too kind of a word for what he gave those four half-witts. Well...three. The leader, Bill, had to go. George couldn't have anyone who could pose a threat in his era. No one who had the ability to take away what he deserved. Yes, he dispossessed Bill just as he would dispossess this rebel. With full contraction back on the choking rebel, George slowly, from the inside out, crushing the rebel. At first, he avoided causing too much damage to the major organs. He didn't want to break his new toy quite yet. Not until he was good and ready.
Oh, the sound. The sound of his powers at work along with the rebel's scream really did bring him back. He could remember the insults Bill and his monkey gang would say.
"Look at the little sigma!"
"Bud thinks he's so sigma!"
"What'd you going to do, you little sigma?"
It wasn't until he was much a little older that he looked up what a sigma actually was.
A man who is honorable, charismatic, and magnetic. A man who's seen to be unafraid to take risks or make their own decisions.
After a few more moments of screaming, George crushed the rebel, coating his already bloodied coat with more blood.
As he sat back, he smiled. He remember how he felt all those years ago, knowing that he got the last laugh of Bill Carter.
He decided to give in a little to his past self, remembering how he felt after ending those five agonizing years. He remembered looking down at his hands before saying one simple line. A line he'll repeat again on the anniversary of his victory.
"I feel so sigma right now."

😨