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“ … For we shall not cease our struggle, no matter the odds we face, we shall continue our fight and bring peace and prosperity back to our world. For this land is what we call Home and is the only thing that we hold dear anymore. For this, is what keeps our men strong and their spirit lifted. We shall make an example of them to all! None shall dare touch our great nation without losing their hand, after the word about our armies marching triumphant, has spread! We were victorious in the capital and pushed them back, and now, we shall eradicate them completely. Forward my brethren, and let not even one of them survive their foolish attack....”
-Journal of Alexander Lee
May 25th.
As the sound of the keyboard began to fade away from the room, nothing else could have been heard, silence reign supreme over the office. A luxurious room, filled with the most expensive of gear and commodities one could hope for. Silk carpets and drapes imported from Terra, chairs, shelves, desks and cabinets made of the finest and sturdiest wood found left on the planet. The room was filled with Aegian computers and security drones while the shelves were harboring the best of Illician literature. A room fit for a king some might say, yet for others it was the bare minimum. A small crack interrupted the silence in the room, as a short, overweight person stood up from behind the desk. Dressed in an expensive suit, he was nothing else then a walking disaster. Shirt unbuttoned, pants loose and ready to fall, and glasses without lenses. His eye's were barely kept open, seeming to haven't slept for a few days, nor did he look sane in the mind.
Few words were passing through his head at the time, all of them being repeated over and over again, like a broken record. We have won. Were pushing them back. I'm a Hero. This was the only thing that was going on through Alexander's mind. Making his way to the balcony, he pulled aside the drapes blocking out the light and opened to the glass doors, slowly moving his way towards the ledge, his feet trembling with excitement. As he gazed down upon the streets, he could see crowds of people cheering his name and looking at him with joy in their eyes, the second they spotted him. The siege of the city was lifted and the destruction is already being repaired, the fire provoked by the battle died out. He could see soldiers burning the bodies of his enemies and both elders and children standing straight, proud and mighty, bearing the banner of the country. As they all began to cheer his name, he raised his left hand and began waving back to them, tears going down his red cheeks. “.... I did it.”
Those were the last words he said, eyes closed and and tears going down like a stream of water. As silence engulfed the whole area again, only a single last breath for air could have been heard. A bullet hole being drilled into his forehead and going into his brain, he ceased being alive and fell over the ledge, dropping down in giant pile of corpses, the same people who were saluting him inside his mind only a few seconds ago. Standing lifeless on top of the pile, he had found his peace and sanity, through his dead, laying on top of his people, on a burning and destroyed city and landscape.
“........... Target neutralized. I repeat, the President is dead. I'm returning to base, over.
Treat me rough, sugah.
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