There were quite a few people that liked the prospects. They would get to go to heaven, or hell depending on the individual, and were excited about this. Others didn’t like it one bit. They liked living here. They liked their jobs, their families, the life. For them it looked to be a sad time. They got in line just like everybody else, but they couldn’t help feeling that it was a bit premature. There was still more that could be done here. They wanted to see their kids first steps, first date, first car, graduation. Without those life moments on the horizon there was suddenly little point to living.
Both factions had reached across international borders. There were only a few places that were not affected, and these generally didn’t have phones, email, or even automobiles. Basically these were small nomadic tribes completely cut off from the world so they didn’t have any idea of the turmoil which was enslaving the rest of the world.
2.
The first day of the major offensive started out like any other. It was a typical day, if you could call anything about these days typical. The epic battle was still in the background, but soon it would be raging until there was only one man standing, or none.
People armed themselves with anything that was handy. A baseball bat, a rake, a frying pan, and one woman even had a huge, let’s say, adult novelty toy the size of a battering ram. Anything that could do damage. Joe had his trusty bricks who were not opposed to being thrown, literally, into battle. The president had what appeared to be a massive stapler fitted with a scope.
The two leaders would’ve met if there had been any need. Both sides knew what the objective was. The goal… Purify the other side. There was no truce, no ceasefire, no surrender. They would die fighting, or not die at all. The streets were quiet. They were filled with an unease that only came before death. The shuffling was deafening if only for the fact that there were no other noises. It was an eerie mix of clamor and silence. People were going to die today and they knew it.
The first clash resonated in the hearts of all the other combatants. The most recognizable sound was that of a frying pan clanging against the other persons skull. The thud, followed by the ringing was disturbing at best. That is all it took. The game started. As both side rushed to meet the opposition, the old woman who had thrown the first swing was trampled, but not before receiving a mortal slice from a young mans hoe. She watched for a few seconds as her head was kicked around. She was happy knowing that she did her part.
Groups of people were bursting into flames at random. Many thought they were Molotov cocktails, others assumed it was the work of their leaders powers. The street, which should have been strewn with bodies, managed to stay relatively clean. Even the blood was lapped up. The shadows were to be thanked for this, if nothing else. They had found their sides and stuck to them. Their role, at current, was cleanup. It gave them plenty of food, and kept them amply busy. Due to their sheer numbers it did cast an odd haze over the street, but that didn’t bother anyone but the leaders. It wouldn’t have bother them either, if they weren’t observing from the roofs of two nearby buildings. Joe did not feel good about any of this. The President loved it.
There were no lack of reinforcements. As the people in the front perished, and then subsequently vanished, the holes filled in and more people added onto the ranks in the rear. It was greater than a one to one swap on most occasions. It never seemed to slow down. Never seemed to dwindle. All the could be heard from the back was the clashing, screaming, war cries, and the occasional laugh. The crowd was so massive, and the shadows filled the front with such a haze, that the combatants discovered they were in the mix as they were suddenly facing the opposition. People were dropping like flies who have been stabbed with a toothpick. Those in the front rows were dripping the blood of those that came before them and those further back would be dripping soon enough.
The average engagement time of any single player was less than five seconds once they made it to the second row. And less than a second when they were in the front. That only takes into account those that actually made it that far. Not a single one made it into the enemies ranks. The street was filled from wall to wall, and had been for hours.
Picture the longest, widest street in your town. Now picture it filled from one side to the other with fighting people. Your friends, your family, yourself. Everyone you know placed on both side of the imaginary center line. This was basically a huge meat grinder. There was no pause in the action, but it was not very exciting. In fact, Joe and the President were getting quite bored. After trying to consort with each other through the shadows, which could hear quite well, but were also mute, they resorted to large poster boards and black magic markers. They decided it was time to take a lunch break. The shadows, armed with the commands of their leaders, split the fighting down the middle and pushed everyone back. There they remained until needed further. Lunch time it was and it lasted for a very long time.
There was no place to get lunch. Everyone was here, except for a few random kids that were grounded. Their parents figured there was no reason to let them out of the restrictions to come out here and have fun. Even the undecided were here, but they were peering at the crowd from the alleyways.
Joe was not feeling good. The president was laughing. Two different leaders with different styles and stomachs. Not that either leader was actively pursuing victory, they were both playing the role of voyeur over the fight that they had started. Not that they could really give any input if they wanted too.
3.
Now zoom out. Picture the country. Notice the flames engulfing large portions. Notice that
Now go even further. Notice the continent. The hemisphere. The entire world. Flames slowly engulfing everything and everyone. Flames visible from space. The purifying flames of righteousness. The consuming flames of Hell. Only one place would be left untouched by the fire, but there was still heat. The only safe, if you could call it that, place was with the two leaders. The home base of the two factions.
Zoom back in. Look at Joe. Look at the President. Look at the little boy making his way toward the center of the paused conflict. Out of nowhere he appeared. His clothes blackened with soot. His eyes burning. He looked like fire would leap from his eyes at the slightest gesture.
As he approached the middle, even the shadows tried to backup. The were successful, but only partially. They managed to work their way about 10 rows back on each side. The boy closed his eyes and waited. Nobody knew what to do. Suddenly they could fight again, but the little boy would be caught in the crossfire. That was only a small concern though. If the shadows were afraid of him, who would want to try and fight him? The fact that he looked crazy probably didn’t hurt any.
Suddenly a sharp rock, shaped somewhat like an ancient knife, screamed for the boys head. It whistled as it flew through the air. If the owner had known the knife’s thought on the subject he might not have thrown it. As it touched the boys temple, it disappeared. No impact. Not a single drop of blood. No evidence that the knife even existed. Not until seconds later anyway. Nobody knew what happened, or how, but they were left with a screaming man. A man who was now dying with a rock knife sticking out of his left eye socket. The man who threw the knife.
The boy started to walk again, toward a partially open alley. As he made his way the people in front of him tried to move as they suddenly became very combustible. Spontaneous Human Combustion, poof, there goes another one. They ignited and ran with no real sense of reason. Soon enough all the individuals in the first 10 rows were alight. The skin fell off of their muscles, the muscles fell off of their bones, and then they would die. There is no real way to describe the kind of pain that they felt. The only way to experience it would be to go take a shower in gasoline and then light yourself on fire, but do it in a way to surprise yourself. I think you would understand perfectly at that point. The shadows saved everyone else.
The boy continued toward the alley, not a single flame had touched him. The people in his way tried to relocate due to his previous display of illuminating tactics. Some were successful, others befell the same fate as the combatants. One individual tried to shoot him from behind, but that ended in the shooter having a hole blown in his kneecap. He too was destined to have an early cremation. A very painful one. Nobody made a move to stop or otherwise inure the boy. He now had free passage anywhere he wanted to go in this city.
Neither Joe, nor the President, could believe what they had just seen. They were both being followed because of their “divine” purpose, but what they had just seen really demanded a rethink of the situation. A complete overhaul of the strategies that both sides had been using up to this point. The decisions for the non-believers became one step harder. Now there were three candidates vying for their attention and devotion, not that they noticed the lack of an entourage with the little boy. The fact that the little boy was no where to be found didn’t help either.
The fighting didn’t seem so important now. Joe and the President would have to sit down and talk about what was going on and decide if they would join forces or run business as usual. The coming days would be tough for everyone, except the little boy. All he had to do was have fun lighting things on fire. He enjoyed this job very much. I was more like a hobby though. A life style. The only way to live.
Pyro, or the Boy Who Plays With Fire
1.
“Where to start with Pyro… Nobody is too sure how old he is. He birth certificate, all the juvenile delinquency records, and in fact the entire county records office, managed to vanish one night. Nobody is quite sure how, but there was an odd amount of ash at the location where it used to be housed. Nobody outright accused Pyro of the crime, but people had their suspicions.
No one even knew his real name anymore. That was lost when his parents passed away. His dad choked on a piece of steak and while his mother was trying to give him the Heimlich maneuver, tripped and fell onto a foot stool, instantly snapping her neck and not saving Pyro’s father. So, in short, little is actually known about him. We do know that he is missing his two front teeth, has trouble pronouncing R’s and S’s, and that while he has almost no temper, he does seem to light things on fire at his whim. It is not sure if it is a compulsion, a game, or just something that sounds good at the time.
People would have reported seeing him all over the world, in almost every country, if they hadn’t died shortly after. It is believed that he is responsible for 90 percent of the fires which are raging out of control across the globe.
Where his power came from, like so many other things surrounding the boy, is a mystery. He doesn’t seem to be telekinetic in the classic sense. It seems that the only control objects when they are placing his life in direct danger. Like the bullet, or knife that would have surely killed him. Those he was able to redirect. We still don’t know if they were teleported to the proper location, or if he mentally flung them so quickly that nobody noticed it until the target started screaming. There is a lot of mystery surrounding this little boy and while we would like to find out more, we are, quite frankly, afraid of him. We’ve seen what he can do first hand and if it hadn’t been for the shadows, we would all be dead. At least we think we would be.”
“Thank you General,” the President said.
“So let me get this straight. Basically you just, in a very long winded way, told us that you really don’t know a thing about him,” asked Joe.
“Correct.”
“Then why not just say, Hey, there is this little fire breathing kid and we don’t know shit about him.”
“I’m assuming that you haven’t been doing this long,” said the General.
“Never mind. I’ll shut up then. Continue.”
“There is nothing more to say really. Well, we do think he is still in the city, but can’t be 100 percent sure.”
“Guess we need to figure out what to do about this kid and then we can get back to our previously scheduled program,” said the President.
“Then let’s do it,” said Joe.
2.
“I don’t like this,” said Janice, after they were out of ear shot.
“I don’t either,” Mr. Abbot and Joe said in unison.
“He does scare me, but he is just a little kid. Maybe he thinks this is a video game or something. I just don’t want to hunt down and kill a little kid. Doesn’t feel right,” said Joe.
“I can’t disagree completely, but on the other hand, he might hunt you down and do the same,” said Janice.
“Well, I guess we’ll think about it then, won’t we,” said Joe. It wasn’t really a question, but an order. At the least it was a demand.
Joe was actually worried. He had stopped living in fear of his own death when he decided that the shadows could not kill him. He wasn’t sure if it was the bricks that protected him, or something more contingent on who he actually was. He still didn’t feel like a savior, but others thought he was. He really didn’t want to tell them he wasn’t. He probably would die then.
Joe’s biggest concern, and the President’s as well, was to find Pyro. Where had he gone and what was he doing? Both questions that needed to be answered. Hopefully by the time the found the truth it would not be too late.
3.
Pyro was doing what little boys without parents did. He was wondering around. He was playing in the parks. He was thinking about stealing some lunch, but since nobody was around it didn’t seem like a challenge, therefore it wasn’t really worth doing. He grabbed a sandwich from a local deli and left a couple of bucks on the counter. Not that the money would matter in the long run, but there was no reason to be rude. If the owner made it out at least he would have the profits from a sale.
Pyro was lonely though. Since he had found his powers, around the time of first grade, nobody wanted to be his friend. He wasn’t sure if they were afraid of him or if he was afraid of them. He didn’t really talk to anyone. There had been one little girl who always tried to talk to him until he lit her notebook on fire. She never said another word to him or anyone else. Pyro did miss his family, but there had been nothing he could do. It was just bad luck on their, and his, part.
As he sat on a swing and ate his lunch, he wondered if there were any other kids around. Maybe somebody would want to play. Jump on the teeter totter. Play tag. Hide and go seek. Cowboys and Indians. Anything that would take his mind off of his current dilemma. To use his powers or not. He had wondered what the correct answer was, but no matter how he tried, he found himself using them more and more. He was like a drug addict looking for his next score. He loved the feeling of power, but not the feeling after he was done.
“What’re you doing,” asked a little girl.
“Huh? I’m, ahh, eating my lunch.”
“I wonder,” said the little girl. “Why do you eat all alone?”
“Because I don’t have any friends. Why are you out here talking to me?”
The little girl blushed and looked at her constantly moving feet. “Um. I don’t know. ‘Cause I wanted to. What’s your name anyway? I’m Mary. Mary Ann Johnson. I’m four,” she said as she held out her left hand proudly showing her age.
“Are you missing a thumb?”
“Yeah. My mommy said my dog took it before he went to heaven. She said he wanted something to remember me, but my daddy said that he was just a mean son of a birch.”
“You mean son of a bitch?”
“Oh! That’s what he said. I did wonder how my dog would be the son of a tree. What is a bitch anyway?”
“Never mind. Anyway, I’m Pyro.”
“Pyro? What kind of name is that? It’s stupid.”
“You’re stupid,” said Pyro.
The little girl looked at her feet as tears pooled in her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. No, don’t cry.”
The girl sniffled. “You always a big meanie?”
“I don’t know.”
“I promise I won’t make fun of your name if you promise to be nice too,” she said.
“Deal. You want to play on the seesaw?”
“Uh, huh.”
And with that, Pyro’s entourage began. It would grow slowly. One kid here, two kids there. Nobody over the age of 13 was involved, or, for that matter, welcome. A gaggle of children. All covered in soot. All devoted. Everyone of them ready to die for their cause. Ready to die, if needed, so Pyro could live. This, the new world order. The last world order.
4.
Pyro had already marched around most of the world by this point. Everywhere he went, death became the norm. Fires would rage out of control until he left if not longer. There were never any survivors. He was merciless, even if he didn’t thoroughly enjoy what he was doing. It kept him occupied. It kept him sane, within reason at least.
At one point he singled out this little hospital. It was more of a retirement home than a hospital. They are sometimes called “constant care facilities.” There was no real reason to go after this one, other than that is sounded like a good idea at the time. Most of Pyro’s decisions are based on that philosophy.
Regardless, Pyro started small. The front door burst and a few windows cracked. Nothing too major, but loud enough to draw people out. As the old men and women were wheeling their way toward the front lawn Pyro started picking them off one by one. Wheelchairs ablaze, hair on fire, etc. He just stood there and watched as the people rolled around screaming. He laughed a little, and continued. After either all of the people were out, or as many as could escape anyway, he sent the whole thing up. A billow of black smoke rose and floated across the city. The stone face of the building went black in a matter of seconds.
The nurses were injured, but not dead yet. Most of the elderly had already expired. They were past their dates anyway. There were a few left burning, but a shiny gas tanker caught Pyro’s eye. He suddenly forgot about the hospital and focus his energy on the tanker. It worked out nicely that as the tank ruptured, it was right in front of the facility. He just stared at the 30 foot tall flame that shot clean through the top. The ground ignited with fervor. Gas was everywhere, but stopped just short of Pyro. After the gas finally burned out, all the people in the local vicinity were dead, and the building was just a pile of smoldering rubble, Pyro turned on his heals and walked away. Another job well done. Nobody saw him, nobody paid any mind to the little kid in a hoodie laughing at the burning old people. That is normally how it went. Most just ignored him. He looked homeless. Useless. Worthless. If only they knew.
The biggest problem with Pyro was his short attention span. He suffered from the same thing all children suffer from. One thing could only keep his attention for so long, no matter how big and spectacular. There was always something bigger and better around the corner. He was known for, or at least used to be, staring at insects. He would never hurt them intentionally. Grasshoppers were his favorite, followed closely by praying mantises, walking sticks, and millipedes. He liked insects because they lived off of their instincts. There was no right or wrong in their world. They just did what they had to do, what they were programmed to do, and had no idea that there was any other way.
Sometimes he wished that people were the same way. There was too much suffering because of peoples agendas, politics, and greed. Maybe he saw his mission as returning the world to it’s primal state. Taking the human element away from the habitat of creatures that live together in what could be called harmony. No guns. No lobbyists. Just nature taking it’s course. It helped to think of himself as Nature’s wrath. It’s punishment for the foolish. For the greedy. For the conceded. For everyone.
He had no problems sleeping at night. No bad dreams. No fear. No worry. He believed in the purpose that had been placed at his feet and therefore had the power of his conscience on his side. He had more problems deciding what to eat for lunch. Now he had the issue of making sure his party was fed at least once a day. He was a leader though. He would make sure they were taken care of before even thinking about himself. He would never ask of his people something he would not be willing to do himself. He believed in leading by example and it was better to be a trusted friend and ally than act like a parent. He had very little time to grow up and managed it with aplomb.
The group, which could be looked at as a funeral procession, marched on. Everywhere they went people were either already dead, or in the process of dying. They took the roles of priests. They blessed everyone of the fallen. They said prayers as they marched the streets. They had not lost a single member and were hoping to avoid that tragedy. Pyro protected them.
They usually found a nice park to sleep in. Even if the rest of the area was black, the parks were always green. They would gather food before destroying every building and structure in sight. They had no opposition. The only ones who would care were the ones still alive, but they knew nothing of their impending fate. They knew everything was wrong, but they would never expect this. Nor would they believe you if you told them. Everyone ones name was marked. They all had their numbers. They had no idea it was coming like this. They gave odd looks as an army of children walked up. And then they died. With every death they made the world a safer place. One where they could, someday, raise their kids to be good people. They were making their world. A world with no crime. No fear. No pain. Perfect.
Children are the best at being altruistic. After about the age of 18 most people convince themselves that they can’t really make a difference. To make a difference someone actually has to believe that they can. This is where kids can be powerful, but usually lack the force to be heard. If any group of children ever had the power to change the world, it would be this group.
5.
“My teeth feel fuzzy,” said Mary.
“Then go brush them,” said Pyro.
“But I… I don’t have a tooth brush.”
“Here, use this one.”
“Nope. That’s gross. I don’t want your cooties.”
This made Pyro think for a second. He had grown out of the “cooties” stage, but it was not shocking that Mary was still in it.
“It’s new,” said Pyro.
“Nope. It looks old.”
“Well… I don’t have another one.” Pyro thought for a second. “Here. Eat this.”
Mary sat down and ate an apple. A golden delicious as a matter of fact.
“Thanks, Pyro. You know, I always wanted a big brother. I wonder if this is what it is like.”
“Don’t know. Can you go find something else to do? I’m trying to think,” said Pyro.
“Ok.”
Mary looked down at her feet and trudged off sadly. Pyro felt bad, but he really did have to think. He was trying to determine the next plan of action. DC was where he had started, in a small way, and that was where this would all end. When he had been there before he had destroyed the White House. He was actually pretty shocked that he had gotten away with it, but it looked like the President took the rap for it. It’s like the President wanted to. It had worked out in Pyro’s favor though. He was able to get away and start his campaign.
“We’re marching in one hour. So get your stuff together and get ready. It is possible that this will be our last move.”
Everyone turned their heads as Pyro spoke. They trusted him completely and would follow him off of a cliff if asked. He filled them with a sense of purpose. Of power. Of life.
He was pretty sure that he knew their fate already, and his own. The hope was that he could make it happen and not lose anyone. He decided to keep the same battle plan that had already been working. Go in first and have them follow behind as the chaos ensued. There were a few that he worried about though. Ones that didn’t seem to be quite on the level. Not many, only two or three perhaps, but that was more than he would like.
1.
“They are coming,” said the watchman.
“Shit,” said Joe.
“Indeed,” said the President. “Think we can do this?”
“I hope so, but I’m not entirely convinced.”
“Nor am
“I’d guess about an hour. It looks like they are about three miles away,” said the watchman.
“Guess we should get everyone ready. Make a call to the General.” said the President.
“Will do,” said the watchman.
The children were on the move. Everyone knew it would happen, but nobody really wanted it to. Joe wondered if the kid, Pyro, was crazy or righteous. There was something that struck Joe suddenly. If this was the time, what if the kid really was the righteous one and Joe, or the President, was really the antichrist. T had looked, for a little while anyway, like there would actually be three sides to the fight, but Joe and the President had merged forces. Everyone just assumed, naturally, that Pyro was the bad guy. He was the lighting things on fire with his mind and all.
While he had murdered, or maybe it was purified, 90 percent of the world’s population, he didn’t seem evil. Misguided, very likely, but not evil. This was the problem that Joe had with the whole situation. He figured the son of Satan would exude evil like a cheap cologne. This kid seemed genuinely concerned. Joe brought this up to the President, but the only response he got was that either he needed to be killed or everyone else would die. Joe agreed, but couldn’t be bothered to feel good about it.
The general was making preparations. Snipers were being placed at all corners of courtyard. Some on the ground floor, the other on the way up the buildings. Second floor, 10th floor, etc. The General wanted to ensure that even if the buildings were taken out of play that there was still ample coverage of the boy. Their plan was hinging on that fact. They weren’t at all sure that the plan would work at all, but it was worth trying. Anything was worth trying at this point.
So many variables. So little time. The story of their lives. If they lived to see tomorrow, this is how they would be remembered. If they didn’t, then it didn’t really much matter. The troops, and other followers were getting anxious, and not in a good way. This was not like being a kid and waiting to open presents on Christmas. This was more like watching your kid go off to war and then waiting for a black car to drive up and deliver the bad news that they had died in combat. Actually, this was much more like going to war yourself and just waiting for the enemy to make it in range. Regardless of what it was like, it wasn’t a good kind of anxiousness.
The group had repositioned at the former site of the White House. The ground was now an open expanse, but the rubble offered some coverage, not that they would be dodging bullets or anything. It did offer great coverage from the surrounding buildings though.
The snipers and other weapons experts were in place. They loaded their weapons and waited on the ready. The shooters wondered if the kid could sense the upcoming trouble. There was definitely tension in the air. It felt electric. It felt dangerous. It felt flammable.
The young force kept their course and marched on. Pyro appeared to be thinking and not paying much attention to what lay ahead of him. They were still walking through a wasteland that had been created by Pyro on his last foray through DC. The damage and decay would end soon enough and they would be walking on fresh pavement while creating a path of destruction ahead of them.
“You can feel that, can’t you,” said a young boy.
“I can. I’ve felt it before. This might be the last time though,” said Pyro.
“What is it?”
“It’s kinda hard to explain. It’s how I feel every time I do this. I think it could be the feeling that I might die. Or it could be that others might die. I’m not really sure, but it is unsettling,” said Pyro.
“Yeah, it is. Are we going to be ok?”
“I hope so. I’m going to try my hardest to make sure that it’s not a lie.”
“Thanks. I just wanted to tell you that it’s been fun. Hopefully we can play some more after this is all over.”
“That’s the hope,” Said Pyro.
They kept marching. They were singing. Song like “The ants go marching,” and even the “Mickey Mouse Club,” song. It kept their spirits up. It let them forget that they may never walk out of this. That today might be it. That there may be no tomorrow. They followed and trusted that everything would work out, but one can only ignore so much before the fear tries to creep back in.
The shadows were doing what shadows do, but without all of the killing that they’ve become accustomed too. They waited in the shaded areas around the buildings. Everyone knew that they didn’t actually have to be in the dark, or shady areas, but they seemed to prefer those locales. Since they couldn’t talk nobody could ask them why, but they could hear just fine.
2.
“Remember when you were brave. Remember when you used to have fun. Remember life before all of this. I know that for a lot of you that wasn’t very long ago. I’ve been making my own way for much longer than all of you, and I know that, but trust me. We can and will succeed. We will. We have to. Do it for the children you want to have someday. Do it for your friends. Do it for me. Do it for yourself,” Pyro said.
In his opinion, he was not an amazing motivational speaker, but he knew he had to say something to help ease the tension. It was clouding the air. Making it think. Making it hard to breath. They needed to be clear headed and prepared.
The children kept marching on. A slight breeze at their back sent shivers down the spine. Warm day, or not, there was a definite chill in the air.
“Think about a life without greed. Without pain. Without suffering. Think of a perfect world. Let’s make that happen. Let us embrace that dream. Let us live that dream.”
The children nodded. Some of them absorbed the words, and in doing so, their confidence grew. Others were too busy humming tunes in their heads to hear, or be bothered to absorb the speech.
“I just want to say thanks to all of you. It’s been a pleasure, and honor, and a privilege spending these last days with you all. If we never meet again, just know that I am forever in your debt,” said Pyro.
Something resembling a cheer rose from the children.
“If we live today we will have started a new way of life. A new society. The world anew. In our image. Built in the perfection that only we can see. Let us do what our fathers only dreamed of. What our mothers wished for. What your children would be proud of. Let us achieve what only stories can portray.”
Everyone was now listening.
“If any of us do not make it be confident in knowing that your legacy, our view, will be carried on. If I should fall in battle, remember me as you would any of your other brothers or sisters. If you fall, I will do the same to honor you.”
Everyone nodded.
“So let us walk. As soldiers. As the righteous. And most importantly, as friends.”
Cheers resounded. Everyone was on board. They were ready. Determined and hopeful, they kept marching.
“You know, this reminds me of a movie I saw,” said Mary.
“Really,” asked Pyro quietly.
“Yup.”
“And what happened in the movie?”
“Everyone died.”
“Thanks. I really needed to know that.”
“Just trying to be helpful,” Mary said.
“Well, let’s just hope that isn’t the case today.”
Mary nodded and continued on. Nobody else heard the small exchange, and it was probably better that they didn’t.
3.
The General grabbed a bullhorn and thought. He thought about everything he had already been through, and everything that was about to happen.
“I just want to tell you all that the time is almost here. The time to step up and defend your country. I know he is only a kid, but you’ve all seen what he is capable of. In a few hours this whole area will be a graveyard. What has yet to be determined is who will be buried here today. I’m confident in saying that it will not be us.”
He wasn’t confident at all.
“I know we have the power and the numbers to crush this threat to our freedom. To our beloved country. To our very way of life. I’ve led many men into battle and always come out victorious. Today will be no exception. You will all stand, fight, and win. I wish you all good luck and god speed. We will prevail.”
The cheers echoed from the buildings. The children were still marching. The faction was readying it’s defenses. People were getting nervous.
“Why do I have a feeling that we aren’t going to make it out of this,” Joe asked.
“Probably because we won’t,” replied the General.
“Wow, how’s that for motivation.”
“I say what the people need to hear. Honestly, I have about as much hope of surviving today as I would of sucking my own dick.”
“That’s one way to put it I guess,” said Joe.
“Look, we are going to try our hardest, and hope things work out, but there is just no way of knowing until we are either through it, or dead.”
“I’ll shut up now,” said Joe.
4.
And on the other side of the world… Nothing happened. Everyone was already dead, and had been for days.
Time
1.
Without a worry for the sun, Pyro slowed down his entourage slightly. There would be plenty of light once the fireworks went off. He wanted the enemy to be impatient when he arrived. He was also worried and wanted to delay a little bit. He knew that there was no turning back, but that didn’t mean that there was any reason to go running into direct gunfire.
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