Silent Scorn

Chapter 1 (revised)

A small child ran happily down a sidewalk, being chased by other children. The first one ran up to the large steel wall that surrounded the city and put his hands on it. “Home-free! Home-free!” he shouted, as the other children ran up to join him, most of them out of breath. The one against the 150-foot wall laughed with glee and some joined in, admiring his speed, some were whining that it wasn’t them that reached the wall first. A loud siren blared over some loudspeakers coming out of the wall. The crowd of children looked up, then after a few short goodbyes they each left the wall and ran off to their respective houses.

   A guard that was watching them chuckled to himself and looked over to his partner. “You know, I remember back when I was a kid I hated that bell.” The other guard looked at him “I didn’t. For me it was always the dinner alarm.” The first one started laughing, “With you I’d believe it.” They were silent for a while after. The 7:30 alarm signalled everyone in the city that they only had half an hour until curfew. The streets were swarming with people rushing to finish their business and head home. Lines of travellers formed outside of lodgings of any sort, the biggest lines were outside pubs that offered rooms as well as refreshments. The streets wouldn’t be completely empty until at least another hour. No one was passing through the gates.

   The only ones not in a rush were the guards outside the gates. They wore Kevlar vests over their red uniforms. Helmets with reflective visors gave them an intimidating soulless anonymousness. “Ugh, the last hour is always the longest,” one of the guards said, absently leaning against the post of a rusty sign reading West Gate. The other soldier was silent, but checked his rifle, although they never needed to use the weapon. The first soldier only carried a pistol.

   Although they didn’t get much trouble, they were well trained. New Chicago’s finest, functioning not only as the gate guards, but also as the military police force. They kept the walled city safe from the many gangs, thieves, and bandits that infested the countryside. They monitor all who enter the city in the daylight hours for anyone suspicious. At nine o’clock the large iron gates in front of the city closed and locked, making the city nearly impregnable.

   Such security measures were necessary after the Cataclysm of 2254. A series of disasters involving an experimental new power source nearly destroyed the planet, killing billions and making the land uninhabitable. The world in such a state sent governments into shambles. Countries broke into smaller countries, which in turn broke into even smaller countries until only the large cities remained, independent, the City-States. It was in these mammoth cities that people began anew and started to rebuild their lost Earth.

   The nostalgic soldier looked at his watch. It was quarter to eight. “I hope the night-shift gets here early. I’m starving.” The other one lowered the rifle, satisfied with its condition.
   “Looks like we might actually use these things soon.”
   “What are you talking about?”
   “I heard the Genocider took out New York a few days ago. Blew the entire city to hell.”
   “You don’t say. Where’d you hear that?”
   “The bartender down at Ermblock’s. You know how the guy loves to talk to travellers.”
The first guard spat. “I wouldn’t trust anything ol’ Mackenzie says. He exaggerates and a lot of that’s just BS anyways.” They fell silent again.

   The sun was setting, throwing a brilliant orange splash across the landscape. Streetlamps flickered on as the last sliver of sun sank below the top of the wall. Large gears inside of the walls began to creak as the massive mechanisms began to work each of the heavy gates closed. The North Gate closed first, then clockwise until the Western Gate finally was shut at nine o’clock. Near the West Gate was the only place where one could still see the sunset from ground level. The guard with the pistol broke the silence once again. “You think the Genocider is a Freak?”
   “If it was, he probably blew himself up. Not our problem. I bet it’s a gang that uses a lot of explosives or something. They’re probably just making it seem like one guy to scare people.”

   ‘Freaks’ were a race of humans that rose from the aftermath of the reactor explosions. They called themselves Children of the Cataclysm. They possess a mysterious force that allows them to manipulate energies at will such as electricity and combustion. Such a power is often very unstable and dangerous, and many have died violently trying to harness this ability. Most of the average Freaks could only generate enough energy equivalent to a stun gun without causing harm to themselves.

   Nothing more was said between the guards. In forty-five minutes their long shift would finally be over, both of them counting the minutes. It was after curfew yet there were still people clamouring in the streets. A man walked though the gates into the city. He wore a long black cloak with the hood pulled down low. “Hey buddy!” the guard with the pistol yelled at the stranger, “stop right there and show some ID!” The man stopped, turned around and took his hands out of his pockets. His face was hidden by the shadow of the hood.
   “I don’t have any.” The man said, without any worry in his voice.
   “No one gets through without identification. Now either show us some ID, or get the hell out.”
   “Or we take you in,” the other guard added, “It’s your choice.” The man thought for a moment, the guards were still, their weapons ready. The man turned back around and took a step farther into town. “I think I’d rather head over to the nearest bar. There’s one close that I can sleep in too, right?” The guard lifted his pistol and took aim. “This is your last warning. Comply or we will use force.” The man turned around and looked at the guards, both of them now taking aim at him.
   “They let monkeys like you use live ammunition? I guess you leave me no choice but to use force as well.” He stayed motionless, but the pistol started to tremble. The metal heated rapidly, glowing orange for an instant, then the entire gun exploded, taking off most of the guard’s hand. He fell back and stared at the stump in quiet horror. The other guard, completely in awe of what he saw, dropped his rifle. “Y-you’re a Freak!” he stammered.
   “That’s degrading, I’d prefer atomically capable.” the hooded man said with a smirk.

   The guard dropped to the ground to his rifle, but before he could reach it, a charge of electricity sent him flying against the wall. The guard with one hand got to his feet and lunged, but the man grabbed him and illuminated his face with a scorching light, disintegrating the helmet and leaving only a charred skull on his shoulders. He took a few steps forward and picked up the rifle. The guard at the wall started to get up, badly injured. “The.. It’s the Genoci-” his words were cut short as he coughed up blood inside his helmet. He struggled to take it off, but as soon as it was off, the back of his head was blown off by his own rifle.

The man checked around him. The area was completely deserted; no one could’ve seen him. He dragged the nearly headless guard to the other one and raised his hand to them. He was just a silhouette against the white light incinerating the guards, destroying any evidence that there was a struggle. When he was sure that things were safe, he took off his hood, revealing a young face with a strange design tattooed down the left side. A few strands of jet-black hair hung down from under his black bandana. A pair of shades and a straight poker face hid the remorse in his eyes. He tucked the rifle under his cloak awkwardly, put his hood back on, and continued walking into town, exhausted.

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The original version should be somewhere on this board if you want to compare