Waves crashed onto the overly populated beachhead of Perth, Australia. Children and adults alike ran along the sand, dived into the sea, cooked food and sunbathed to their hearts content. It was the height of Australia's summer, and the height of winter almost everywhere else. Atop his lifeguard outlook, Jim was sat in his chair applying sunscreen to his browned legs. 

“Jim, cunt. Stop waxing yer legs and look over there,” ordered Jim’s senior lifeguard. 
“Fackin ‘ell Steve, have you always gotta speak to me like that?” replied Jim. 
“Shut yer fackin mouth yer blasted baby and do yer fackin job,” snapped Steve. 
“Jesus,” muttered Jim as he got out of his seat and waltzed over to the fixed binoculars. He looked over onto the beach and noticed a group of people clammering out of the ocean, seemingly in terror. Jim darted his gaze to the source of the commotion, and could see a floating body. 
“Bloody ‘ell steve we’ve got a floater!” Yelled Jim as he hurried down the fixed steel ladders. 
“Bloody ‘ell,” echoed Steve as he too hurried behind Jim. The pair ran across the beach at speed, and reached the scene within a few minutes. 
“What’s ‘appened?” Demanded Steve as he approached the now amassed crowds of terrified people. Jim dived into the ocean and swam out to the body in the hopes of retrieving it. 
“We were just out swimming and we saw this body floating, we thought somebody had drowned so we went to help, but we noticed the bleedin thing didn’t have any skin on the noggin, so we scarpered,” a bewildered, middle aged fat man informed Steve. 

Jim made his way back to the beach, dragging the corpse with him and laying it down on the wet sand. “Good work Jimbo lad. Now go alert the coastguard and the police would ya? I’ll keep everything under wraps here,” said Steve and Jim obliged, his young heart racing at the thought of recovering a corpse from the ocean. As Jim raced back to the lifeguards outlook, Steve began fanning people away from the scene. “Alright people, give the guy some dignity, move along. Take your kids, they don’t wanna see this, come on, move along!” As he waved, he noticed that the people were not moving, in fact, they seemed to be stood still, almost in shock or fear, “What’s wrong with you folks? Get a move on would y--” Steve was cut off as a hand gripped him by the throat from behind. Steve gasped for air and struggled to claw at the hand to win his freedom. 

“Where am I? Who are these gluttoned parasites?” A bold, yet harsh voice boomed into Steve’s ear. Of course, he couldn't answer, with fingers so firmly clamped on his windpipe that he was about to faint. Steve did all he could to try and gasp an answer yet instead went limp and unconscious in the hands of his assailant. 

“It’s a monster, everybody run!” came the screams of the congregation. Pandemonium ensued, families, friends and foes alike scrambled for their lives towards the carparks and promenades. The figure from the sea let loose his grip on the now deceased Steve, and left his body to flop unflatteringly to the ground. The figure watched as the people ran, showing no signs of moving. 

“They run from me. My children run,” whispered the figure, “They always run.” 

Suddenly, sirens could be heard in the distance, their proximity getting closer at every moment. Jim had informed the police of the goings on at the beach step by step. He was horrified to have seen his long time friend Steve killed in such a brutish manner, and hoped the Police would be able to deal with this terrible creature. 

Down on the beach, groups of Police officers made their way down, guns in hand, pointed at the figure on the beach. When they were in earshot they began to scream “Freeze!” and other such phrases associated with law enforcement. As they drew nearer the men began to freeze and take caution. They noticed the exposed neck muscles, the lack of skin and the exposed skull of the figure. It became apparent the man was lacking in a penis, also alarming some of the officers due to the uncanniness. A senior officer stepped forwards, his gun pointed squarely at the figure. 

“Who are you? Are you one of those meta-humans? Identify yourself!” He almost screamed it, yet the nervousness he was trying to hide was still apparent. 

“Hu-man? I am not Hu-man. I am before Hu-mans. I created thee. I begot life on this planet, just like all the others before this. And I shall continue to do so,” replied the figure. 

“Identify yourself!” barked the officer, sweat covering his brow and his hands shaking. 

“After all these years, my children still do not know me,” said the figure, almost to himself, “I am The Womb, child. The ever living, ever present Womb. I give life that it might die. I create, so it might exist. I am the Lord of this world. I am the Adam and the Eve, the fruit and the tree. I, begat thee,” responded The Womb, his hand stretching out as he spoke. 

“What in the fackin hell is this?” muttered an officer, visibly shaken by what he was witnessing. 

“Gentleman, lay down your weapons! I must reclaim this world! Join me and we shall triumph,” The Womb clasped his hand tightly as he spoke, emphasising the word “triumph” as he did so. 

“Put ‘im down lads!” screamed the senior officer. Within seconds shots rang out all around. .22 caliber rounds and some of slightly heavier duty slammed into The Womb’s flesh, tearing it apart. A gutshot spilled his intestines to the ground, his dark red blood staining the sand. The Womb fell to the ground and the shooting stopped. The Officers stood wiping their brows anticipating a job well done. As they looked around in relief, one of the officers noticed something strange about the corpse. The holes and wounds they’d opened up on The Womb’s body had largely vanished, and the gutshot seemed to be almost sewing itself back to normalcy, as if it hadn’t even happened at all. There was a deafening groan. The source of which was the now flailing body of The Womb. After the groan seemed to have come to a crescendo, The Womb then began to scream in what felt like a mixture of pain, anger and murderous intent. 

The officers began to quickly reload their weapons, all of them in disbelief as The Womb rose to it’s feet. 

“As much as I create, I too, destroy,” uttered The Womb as he suddenly smashed the ground with his fist. The impact was so hard, the ground around the group was blasted into the air by the tons. It was almost as if an explosion had gone off underneath their feet. The officers were unanimously crippled, every one either critically injured due to falling from height, or buried underneath hundreds of pounds of wet sand. The Womb stood in the center, unphased. His skin covered in dark sand, the grit covering his entire body. He began to walk towards the promenades, calmly and with purpose. 

“Times have changed dear Womb. It seems you must acclimatize yourself with this wonderful new world,” he muttered to himself pensively.