deadpie
November 18th, 2010, 04:56 PM
Written for Creative Writing. Based off the song by Godspeed! You Black Emperor.
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It’s hard to comprehend the situation of standing in the middle of the street in a metropolis city that’s being scorched to the ground. My fellow warrior codenamed Number Three walked past me and sat down in the middle of the road holding a bomb switch. I held a firm grip on my rifle and spoke into my earpiece, “Number One, What’s the status on the helicopters?”
“It’s a situation”, he responded. “Don’t be afraid to use the switch if you have to, alright?”
I turned my eyes straight forward to see the riot police moving closer. We had every building near us rigged and ready to crumble to ash if these nitwits took down even one of our men.
I responded back to Number One, “I understand.”
The sky was painted with a shadow of decay and the windows of almost every building were shattered. Cars were turned over in the middle of the street as young men tossed bricks at shielded officers. A woman standing next to a rail nearby a coffee shop tossed a Molotov cocktail into the crowd of police men. Far to my left next to the entrance of a hotel there was an empty yellow school bus tossed over. I made my way over to it, pulled myself up onto it and stood on one of the tires.
Number Eight pushed himself up out of one of the windows and mumbled to me with a cigar in his mouth, “Shit is going out of hand.”
His voice was like static on television from his chain-smoking. He balanced himself up and walked over to me holding a megaphone. I traded my shotgun for the object in his hand and said, “Turn on your earpiece or else you’ll be uninformed on everything.”
“Kid, I’m warnin’ you”, he said fighting back the itch in his throat. “Worry about yourself and nobody else, then you’ll get out of this alive.”
He tossed his cigar and I asked, “Do you expect any of us to get out of this alive?”
“No”, he laughed cynically. “I expect to be dragged to a cell with my arms torn off and the guards beatin’ me-self with my own legs.”
“Then you don’t need to worry about me.”
“Shoo, boy. You’re never gonna’ make friends with that attitude.”
I pulled the megaphone up to my lips, held down my thumb on the ON switch and roared, “This is a war against humanity! This is the day where misanthropy and nihilism stand tall over every pathetic moral this human race has created. If you dare fight us with fire, we will embrace the flames and return it to you. We have every building on this street ready to explode and all you have to do is surrender to death.”
Most people paused themselves and glanced over to me. Behind the hoard of officers there were damaged police cars and armored humans endlessly marching out of FBI trucks. There was an obese man who carefully made his way up onto his police car holding a megaphone. He responded with a confused and somewhat frightened voice, “Do you understand what you’re saying? There is not a winning situation for anyone out of this if you don’t give up.”
Of course I knew that this wasn’t going to end with us finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. That was somewhat of the point though. Number three was still sitting down with his legs crossed and it seemed like as if he was meditating. My head turned to Number Eight who was aiming the rifle upwards and firing at birds as if this was all some sort of joke to him. The earpiece turned to a high pitched ringing at the same time I heard this loud explosion from behind me. I turned around and the convenient store that he must have been in was engulfed in flames.
“Lay down your weapons”, the officer screamed quickly into his megaphone. “You’ve got thirty seconds before we blow your head off your shoulders!”
Number Three looked over to me and nodded his head slowly. I shut my eyes, bit hard on my lip, and spoke into the megaphone calmly, “Ok.” My eyes opened wide and I remember being tossed off the bus by Number Eight. There wasn't any pain when I smacked down against the cement though. Debris filled the streets as cracks opened throughout the ground and buildings collapsed. I pulled the gas mask that was hanging from my neck up onto my face. My motor skills seemed lost; i couldn’t focus on a single thing, every sound echoed in my ear like the cry of whales, and my legs flopped around as I tried to keep myself up.
A screaming voice that seemed of comrade Number Five sung out, “This is the end, my only friend, the end .”
Everything was too surreal and dream like to capture in this façade of reality.
The vision of fuzziness came together and I saw number two still sitting where he was, but this time he looked soaked in water. I walked closer to him as he pulled a cigarette out, lit it, and looked over to me. Once he had made that certain half smile to me I knew what his attentions were. I cried out to him, “Wait!”
Number Two tossed the cigarette behind him and flames consumed his body. The riot police were running towards and I knew I needed to either hide or just off myself before they would get the chance to beat me to death with their batons. The thing was my eyes would not leave my friend behind. They forced me to watch his skin peel and burn from pink to dark purple. Through all of the pain he was going through he seemed relaxed; still possibly meditating .
I ran to my right through a deconstructed construction site. I ran through empty spaces in walls and passed helpless civilians on their knees crying to themselves. I ran passed a playground where a child was dead on swing set and a mother was screaming for my help. I ran until my legs gave out and begged to rest upon the sidewalk.
You’d expect me to feel different after seeing one of my friends burn himself alive or look at young children with their unexpected deaths, but I didn't. The earth never needed humans to control it, but now that we’ve created power plants that have to be monitored every twenty four hours and similar things like that, Earth has no choice but to surrender. Is humanity and civilization really necessary for the planet itself?
I’m the Earth’s vengeance that is built of human flesh, but willing to smite any human that moves. This planet has begged for an apocalypse and I’m willing to give it to them. Nobody is innocent in this world. We’re all villains. The difference between you and me is that I’m the redeemer of this planet and the bastard of this race. I am the apocalyptic messiah.
I am Number Zero.
-----------------------------------------------
It’s hard to comprehend the situation of standing in the middle of the street in a metropolis city that’s being scorched to the ground. My fellow warrior codenamed Number Three walked past me and sat down in the middle of the road holding a bomb switch. I held a firm grip on my rifle and spoke into my earpiece, “Number One, What’s the status on the helicopters?”
“It’s a situation”, he responded. “Don’t be afraid to use the switch if you have to, alright?”
I turned my eyes straight forward to see the riot police moving closer. We had every building near us rigged and ready to crumble to ash if these nitwits took down even one of our men.
I responded back to Number One, “I understand.”
The sky was painted with a shadow of decay and the windows of almost every building were shattered. Cars were turned over in the middle of the street as young men tossed bricks at shielded officers. A woman standing next to a rail nearby a coffee shop tossed a Molotov cocktail into the crowd of police men. Far to my left next to the entrance of a hotel there was an empty yellow school bus tossed over. I made my way over to it, pulled myself up onto it and stood on one of the tires.
Number Eight pushed himself up out of one of the windows and mumbled to me with a cigar in his mouth, “Shit is going out of hand.”
His voice was like static on television from his chain-smoking. He balanced himself up and walked over to me holding a megaphone. I traded my shotgun for the object in his hand and said, “Turn on your earpiece or else you’ll be uninformed on everything.”
“Kid, I’m warnin’ you”, he said fighting back the itch in his throat. “Worry about yourself and nobody else, then you’ll get out of this alive.”
He tossed his cigar and I asked, “Do you expect any of us to get out of this alive?”
“No”, he laughed cynically. “I expect to be dragged to a cell with my arms torn off and the guards beatin’ me-self with my own legs.”
“Then you don’t need to worry about me.”
“Shoo, boy. You’re never gonna’ make friends with that attitude.”
I pulled the megaphone up to my lips, held down my thumb on the ON switch and roared, “This is a war against humanity! This is the day where misanthropy and nihilism stand tall over every pathetic moral this human race has created. If you dare fight us with fire, we will embrace the flames and return it to you. We have every building on this street ready to explode and all you have to do is surrender to death.”
Most people paused themselves and glanced over to me. Behind the hoard of officers there were damaged police cars and armored humans endlessly marching out of FBI trucks. There was an obese man who carefully made his way up onto his police car holding a megaphone. He responded with a confused and somewhat frightened voice, “Do you understand what you’re saying? There is not a winning situation for anyone out of this if you don’t give up.”
Of course I knew that this wasn’t going to end with us finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. That was somewhat of the point though. Number three was still sitting down with his legs crossed and it seemed like as if he was meditating. My head turned to Number Eight who was aiming the rifle upwards and firing at birds as if this was all some sort of joke to him. The earpiece turned to a high pitched ringing at the same time I heard this loud explosion from behind me. I turned around and the convenient store that he must have been in was engulfed in flames.
“Lay down your weapons”, the officer screamed quickly into his megaphone. “You’ve got thirty seconds before we blow your head off your shoulders!”
Number Three looked over to me and nodded his head slowly. I shut my eyes, bit hard on my lip, and spoke into the megaphone calmly, “Ok.” My eyes opened wide and I remember being tossed off the bus by Number Eight. There wasn't any pain when I smacked down against the cement though. Debris filled the streets as cracks opened throughout the ground and buildings collapsed. I pulled the gas mask that was hanging from my neck up onto my face. My motor skills seemed lost; i couldn’t focus on a single thing, every sound echoed in my ear like the cry of whales, and my legs flopped around as I tried to keep myself up.
A screaming voice that seemed of comrade Number Five sung out, “This is the end, my only friend, the end .”
Everything was too surreal and dream like to capture in this façade of reality.
The vision of fuzziness came together and I saw number two still sitting where he was, but this time he looked soaked in water. I walked closer to him as he pulled a cigarette out, lit it, and looked over to me. Once he had made that certain half smile to me I knew what his attentions were. I cried out to him, “Wait!”
Number Two tossed the cigarette behind him and flames consumed his body. The riot police were running towards and I knew I needed to either hide or just off myself before they would get the chance to beat me to death with their batons. The thing was my eyes would not leave my friend behind. They forced me to watch his skin peel and burn from pink to dark purple. Through all of the pain he was going through he seemed relaxed; still possibly meditating .
I ran to my right through a deconstructed construction site. I ran through empty spaces in walls and passed helpless civilians on their knees crying to themselves. I ran passed a playground where a child was dead on swing set and a mother was screaming for my help. I ran until my legs gave out and begged to rest upon the sidewalk.
You’d expect me to feel different after seeing one of my friends burn himself alive or look at young children with their unexpected deaths, but I didn't. The earth never needed humans to control it, but now that we’ve created power plants that have to be monitored every twenty four hours and similar things like that, Earth has no choice but to surrender. Is humanity and civilization really necessary for the planet itself?
I’m the Earth’s vengeance that is built of human flesh, but willing to smite any human that moves. This planet has begged for an apocalypse and I’m willing to give it to them. Nobody is innocent in this world. We’re all villains. The difference between you and me is that I’m the redeemer of this planet and the bastard of this race. I am the apocalyptic messiah.
I am Number Zero.