His chains...
"They left him after a good pounding...to die...or rot...whatever happened they didnt care. He let his head fall, the chains being the only thing keeping him up. One of the men turned and scoffed at him, "A real hero in you we have!" And laughed, slamming the door and leaving him to be in the darkness.
He had left his name and family a long time ago...but those who knew him called him Jack. He signed many papers under that name, so his close friends assumed that would fit him best. Jack's eyes were fiery and passionate. His face, rough and worn. His clothes tattered from battle. His body, built and strong. He strained against the chains. He knew time was running out. As he sat in here and waited, his country was under attack.
Arrested by The Police, who really put the real police to shame, he was here to purly be tortured for the sick pleasure of the new dictator of his country. Fighting for the helpless, standing up for the little ones. They had busted his head with a night stick and laughed as he attemtped to hold on to the little boy he was protecting, whom they grabbed and threw aside like a dog.
Jack's mind had come so close to losing conscious thought, but He wasn't about to be beaten by these bastards. He had a plan in store for them. He pulled on the chains. His eyes filled with rage as he overheard the tanks rolling around, shooting everyone in thier path. A new strength then appeared in him...One that allowed him to become so determined, those chains were ripped like clay off the walls. He ran to the door, kicking it down, looking at the guards with a scoffing laugh, easily and swiftly breaking both of thier shoulders.
He was in the street within minutes, staring at the place... His country...in ruins...He let his head fall again, listening to the screams and guns being fired. He picked up a gun off the ground and let his eyes open to see a group of The Dictator's private attackers coming his way. He aimed and shot swiftly, dropping them all like dolls. He ran forward, shooting all the attackers he could.
He was only one man...a man with a fire in his soul that illuminated the hearts of others as he killed all the bastards. He grabbed the women and children and hid them in an abandoned homes, and giving the men he found guns. No words were needed here. This was a revolution. This was HIS country and he wasn't about to give it up. He skillfully made plans with the other men to parade the nearest safehouse. He ran forward alone, seeing how the attackers noticed him. He felt the hot sting of bullets raining in his arms and legs. They were missing...on purpose? He shot them all easily, watching them fall to the ground, finding the strength to go on harder...and soon blood ran from his mouth. He saw his men running forward, shooting all the attackers, and in the corner of his eye...he saw....one little boy hiding under a car...staring at Jack with such a look that Jack felt he had a new soul implanted in himself. The boy continued to stare as Jack rose and emptied his gun, picking up a piece of metal, running forward, feeling much more behind him than just more men. He felt a higher presence...a higher fight that sank into his back, filling him with such a power...he was unstoppable. He let the piece of metal sink into an attacker's head, and watched the man drop. Jack noticed that they were only blocks away from the main city...where The Dictator was...he led his men, then, for freedom, for power and for everything they deserved."
-by me
He had left his name and family a long time ago...but those who knew him called him Jack. He signed many papers under that name, so his close friends assumed that would fit him best. Jack's eyes were fiery and passionate. His face, rough and worn. His clothes tattered from battle. His body, built and strong. He strained against the chains. He knew time was running out. As he sat in here and waited, his country was under attack.
Arrested by The Police, who really put the real police to shame, he was here to purly be tortured for the sick pleasure of the new dictator of his country. Fighting for the helpless, standing up for the little ones. They had busted his head with a night stick and laughed as he attemtped to hold on to the little boy he was protecting, whom they grabbed and threw aside like a dog.
Jack's mind had come so close to losing conscious thought, but He wasn't about to be beaten by these bastards. He had a plan in store for them. He pulled on the chains. His eyes filled with rage as he overheard the tanks rolling around, shooting everyone in thier path. A new strength then appeared in him...One that allowed him to become so determined, those chains were ripped like clay off the walls. He ran to the door, kicking it down, looking at the guards with a scoffing laugh, easily and swiftly breaking both of thier shoulders.
He was in the street within minutes, staring at the place... His country...in ruins...He let his head fall again, listening to the screams and guns being fired. He picked up a gun off the ground and let his eyes open to see a group of The Dictator's private attackers coming his way. He aimed and shot swiftly, dropping them all like dolls. He ran forward, shooting all the attackers he could.
He was only one man...a man with a fire in his soul that illuminated the hearts of others as he killed all the bastards. He grabbed the women and children and hid them in an abandoned homes, and giving the men he found guns. No words were needed here. This was a revolution. This was HIS country and he wasn't about to give it up. He skillfully made plans with the other men to parade the nearest safehouse. He ran forward alone, seeing how the attackers noticed him. He felt the hot sting of bullets raining in his arms and legs. They were missing...on purpose? He shot them all easily, watching them fall to the ground, finding the strength to go on harder...and soon blood ran from his mouth. He saw his men running forward, shooting all the attackers, and in the corner of his eye...he saw....one little boy hiding under a car...staring at Jack with such a look that Jack felt he had a new soul implanted in himself. The boy continued to stare as Jack rose and emptied his gun, picking up a piece of metal, running forward, feeling much more behind him than just more men. He felt a higher presence...a higher fight that sank into his back, filling him with such a power...he was unstoppable. He let the piece of metal sink into an attacker's head, and watched the man drop. Jack noticed that they were only blocks away from the main city...where The Dictator was...he led his men, then, for freedom, for power and for everything they deserved."
-by me
1 comment:
Awesome. I like male protagonists and I like fighting... What am I, a guy? No, it's just a fresh change from slow-moving drama that everyone seems to be so enamored with. ^__^
"Violence is not the answer.
Violence is the question.
The answer is yes."
- W.
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