When I started writing this, I knew I wanted to do something unusual. Yet at the same time have something that had almost comic book feel to it. I also wanted to have this concept, that “Utopia for one, may be another person’s nightmare.” Which I think I achieved in the piece. Much to my surprise, I for once am far under the word count. Well, I hope you enjoy my entry.
Cleansing a Broken City
Gunshots, sirens, and thunder vie for dominance of the air. My once grand city had become nothing more than a breeding ground for corruption, crime and greed. Perhaps it had always been this way even when I was a child. Seeing everything through innocent eyes, that faded as I matured. It is time for this place, this cesspool to be cleansed. Not by rain, or by justice but by the hand of the wise.
Taking a deep breath, I turned away from the grim view. Clearing my mind before entering the grand conference room. Where I had gathered other beings of influence and power. Knowing some had good reputations, and others were more questionable.
Pushing open the wide door, I stared at my guests. Their faces hidden behind masks, like mine. These people were the city’s best chance at rebirth. A rebirth that would usher in a utopian age.
Clearing my throat I said, ” Everyone I have gathered here has influence in this city. Yet we have watched as the corruption has consumed this city. Now, my friends, I believe that as people of influence it is our duty to cleanse this city. Seize it not for ourselves, but for our families,” pounding a closed fist against my chest. “Purge this city of its contagious corruption, and create a new utopia for our city,” going silent on my guests. Studying their faces before a soft wave of clapping began. Getting louder and louder as more people joined in.
With a grin I watched them take their seats. Each one of them clueless as to the method I would accomplish this goal. Only I and the corporate soldiers I paid knew the method I chose. Using the same brutal methods of criminals against them. Killing them in the same method they corrupted my city, with gunpowder and fire.
Turning my attention back the city, ready to start the symphony that would be its rebirth. Everything placed strategically days before I called this meeting. By merciless and predatory corporate soldiers in the clever guise of social workers. Using nothing more than my phone. Beginning it with a single phrase, “Veni, Vedi, Vici.”
Hearing the clock for a few seconds before the first bomb went off. Each bomb only seconds behind the other. Creating a symphony of fire, screams, and sheer destruction. Blending itself in with the roaring thunder. Signaling just the beginning of what was to come on this historic night.
In a matter of minutes, the symphony changed. Replacing the explosions with concussive gunshots. The constant stream of muzzle flashes illuminating the smoke. Forging a night sky like tapestry over the city. Making the slums a spot of beauty, instead of blight. Bringing a cleansing rain of copper to the docks, Little Italy, and Chinatown. It was an oddly enchanting sight from where I stood.
Now it was on to step two of my righteous plan, bringing a voice to this night. Approaching the grand conference room once more, I stood in the center of the room. Turning on a camera and series of light. Broadcasting myself throughout the city.
“Fair citizens of this city, by now you are wondering why certain areas of this city are engulfed in flames. Yet, I imagine some of you are aware of how our city has changed too much in the past ten years. A religious man might say they are God’s way of purifying our city for the righteous. That is only half true. The real answer is it was done by a more modern of version of the Gods, the ultra-rich. Using the influence that naturally comes from money, this court agreed to help purge this city. To reclaim it for honest, hardworking men and women. Now I have a message for any surviving criminals,” changing my voice to make it sound more menacing. “Leave this city, while you can. This will be your last chance for mercy. Your kind of scum has no place in what is come. A new golden age, a utopia for all,” shutting off the lights and camera. Satisfied, that the new age was coming to pass.
Word count 690 Critque level: Full