John- United Human Faction- Night 1
The highways of Nevada were always desolate, but not like this night. There was a cry from the sands that something was wrong. The agents’ stealth served no purpose anymore. They were not terrorists or criminals, as they had feared. They were warriors, heroes in the eyes of a new order. Again, Richard’s readiness was disturbing to his partner. The light haired man sleeping in the passenger seat was like nothing John had seen before. Even the Senator’s arguments hadn’t changed his cruelly indifferent expression.
John had always thought of himself as the ordinary man. He had ordinary schooling, ordinary pay, and ordinary acquaintances. For years he had wanted to be someone more, someone extraordinary. But on the 92 North, with a riot behind him and a war ahead, he wished he had stayed ordinary. He wasn’t cut out for revolution; he was cut out for the desk at his motel. Given the choice, he would have never joined the Faction, or the Army, for that matter. This was Richard’s job, and he didn’t belong anywhere near it.
The Senator had spoken for hours, and very little made sense to John. One thing that rang true, though, was the notion of escape. Jeremy had spoken of escaping from the ties binding every official after his election, but John had wanted an escape long before he had taken on his final role. He had wanted an escape from monotony, then an escape from the Army, later an escape from society. His latest wish was for an escape from the Faction. He would never want anything more.
No comments:
Post a Comment