Plutocracy

Stage 16- Old Friends, Finale

Roger and Catelyn lay in bed, side by side. Roger's arms were outstretched, one on Catelyn's back and the other on her shoulder. She rested her head on his chest as they relaxed post-coitus (what a stupid word).

Roger was amazed. He'd never felt anything like that in his life before . . . ever. The rush of excitement, the explosion of pleasure-it was unlike anything else. Not even liberating (killing) your misguided brethren (enemies) came close to this.

For Catelyn, it too was something entirely new. Although she'd done this numerous times with the Eggheads that staffed her, the Eggheads were simply unable to, ahem, bring to the table what Roger could. The reason it had never been that loud and the Technicians had never noticed were because she'd never felt anything on that level. It was never as, shall we say, potent.

"Tell me a story," Catelyn said quietly.

"What about?" Roger sounded slightly confused.

"About the outside world. It's been so long since I've been outside, and I've almost forgotten what it's like out there."

Roger smiled, thinking. What story would he tell? There were so many to choose from.

"Oh, I've got just the one."

A large yellow sun hangs high in the sky, casting rays of heat on the jungle below. Pillars of smoke rise from the treetops, and sounds of gunfire can be heard. There are no Demisamarskaels or anything of the ilk to be seen, because this is long ago. Roger steps into a clearing, holding a large sniper-rifle in his hands. The weapon is made of a polished chrome-like material, with a scope tinted red. His clothing is camouflaged, and his face is covered in dirt and ash. He looks around himself cautiously, and then sprints back into the jungle.

"Vietnam, 3008. Outland thought they would try and invade. They had all their boats loaded with soldiers, ready to kick off and land near Node 2, which is relatively undefended; the West is not really known for doing much. It's mostly just Facdefs and Engineers over there-but I digress. In all of this, it was my job to plant explosives on all the boats and blow them sky high."

Roger disappears from sight suddenly, but the underbrush is moved aside and crushed as if by some unseen force. Two Outland Militiamen moving in the opposite direction fail to notice him, running by and passing off the wind rushing by them as just that-the wind.

Reappearing then, Roger comes to an edge of the forest and peered out. Before him is a large, open, concrete drydock, where ships are being filled with supplies and moved into the water, where they in turn waited patiently to move as one. There were almost a hundred large boats and hundreds more smaller ones; strength in numbers.

Stepping out of the forest, Roger tries to blend in with the Outlanders; despite most of them being Vietnamese in descent, there are large numbers of Europeans and Africans. Outland is certainly a diverse group. There are also quite a few women present, a demographic Roger just assumed at this time were physically weaker men with inflamed pectorals and wider hips. A product of some disease perhaps?

(These were not opinions he shared with Catelyn in his story, of course.)

Roger's backpack is filed with Antimatter charges; only a cubic centimeter each and they could level an entire city block. This was the plan; one for each.

The sniper rifle he held is, in reality, no such thing. It is designed to get the charges onto the boats, and then detonate them all at once.

Roger disappears and then reappeared up on a cliff above the sea; a sniper would go unnoticed, especially in the jungle. Vietnam was renowned for the marksmen it produced. Something to do with the place's ancient history; a war with a major power back in the 1900s. Roger didn't know any of the details and didn't much care to know, either.

Of course, those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it.

Roger pulls out one of the charges from his backpack and places it into the barrel before resting the weapon on a stand and looking down the scope. In an instant, he calculates the trajectory, adjusts for wind resistance and gravity, and pulls the trigger. The small chrome parcel flies through the air and lands on a stack of crates on one of the larger ships, where no one would notice it.

Reload, calculate, fire.

Reload, calculate, fire.

It goes on like this for almost three minutes, as he plants a charge on every single one of the larger boats; 97 in total. He's not going to worry about the smaller ships, as they were mostly interceptors and supply crafts. They don't store troops.

He sits and waits as Outlanders form rank and column, marching onto their soon-to-be-demolished boats. There are hundreds of thousands of soldiers; to entertain himself, Roger counts them.

1, 2, 3,

187,188,189,

2014, 2015, 2016,

10000, 10001, 10002,

250441, 250442, 25433.Two-hundred-fifty-thousand, four-hundred and forty-three troops.

All about to be liberated.

"What do you mean by liberated?" Catelyn asks, confused. Her brow creases as she looks up at Roger.

"It's this philosophy I have; it how I justify what I do. The philosophy is as follows: Arksiane is cruel, and every time I kill someone, I spare them from having to go through the suffering that Arksiane would bring them. Not so much a Shepard, but a butcher than prevents the sheep from being abused by the Shepard any longer."

"Arksiane isn't cruel. He's really nice."

Roger was taken slightly aback by Catelyn's personification of a corporation.

"Arksiane isn't a person; it's a corporation. You do realize this."

"Arksiane's not a person?" She seemed confused, as if something she'd been told all her life was a lie.

"Yeah, and whoever told you that is an idiot. Arksiane is the company that Jeff controls, and man are they evil."

"Oh. Well, go on with your story. I need some time to think about this."

The second every single one of the soldiers was on the boats and the ramps had been pushed aside, Roger shouted one sentence in a voice that carried for miles over the silent boats and then removed the cap from his trigger.

"PREPARE FOR THE RAPTURE!"

His thumb pressed down on the button, a high-pitched clicking sound resonated across the boats just as murmurs of confusion sprang up, and then-

Boom.

Columns of purple light sent high into the sky, bathing the entire scene in violet-white light. Roger was blinded and unable to see for several seconds, and then the sound came.

A wave of sonic force assaulted his ears, blasting into his eardrums and deafening him completely except for a high-pitched ringing sound. The light faded, and the destruction made him smile.

The water was churning and foaming, huge waves crashing against the shore and pushed out in all directions. Chunks of wood, metal, and human flew through the air, impaling the drydock and the surrounding forest. The residual purple-white light of Antimatter persisted, hanging in the air and painting the entire scene purple, even outshining the light of the sun. The water was slowly turning purple and then red; blood and residual antimatter mixing.

Roger smiled, turned around, and left the forest. He walked straight for three days, and there was not a single interruption on his entire journey. Eventually he reached the Arksiane dropship site, got in, and left.

The End.

Catelyn's face was a look of awe.

"That. Was. AWESOME! Oh my god, that was so cool! You just blew up all those boats!? One person, completely ended an entire invasion attempt! That is so awesome!"

Roger smiled. "I haven't had an assignment of that magnitude since."

Suddenly, the door to Catelyn's bedroom slammed open, and an Egghead and two Technicians stood behind a fuming Jeff. Roger recognized the vein bulging on his forehead meant he was fully under Mentor's control.

"Sorry to interrupt your little party, but we're at war with Outland."