01-09-2011, 07:27 PM
It had finally happened. Death was knocking on the doorstep of mankind in the form of some strange creatures wearing yellow. Flames engulfed the structure and the resulting explosion buckled the knees of a nation. Rumors has trickled out from the cracks and seams of the population, rumors that they would be coming here. That Earth was next. That we had all been lead away from the real issue at hand, blinded by the government. Few had believed such rumors.
But now… now what could they say? What would anyone say?
There had been, of course, a video camera on the scene. No, none of the high tech, wide angle million dollar cameras that the news crews owned had been quick enough. Just the grainy, thick interference footage from an outdated cell phone, submitted to a popular internet video site by one “MoonChaser1988” just that very night. It depicted Roy Munin offering the stage to a pink haired woman, yet to be named. There is a shout in the crowd, and the camera flicks up to the top of the Mayor’s office building, a vague out of focus yellow man standing atop it. He shouts, but even if it was in a comprehendible language you wouldn’t be able to understand it. The man jumps from the roof just as the screen flashes white, a wall of grit, soot and dust washing over the crowd. From there, there are several minutes of screams and blackness, the sound of the phone being handled roughly. The calm, clear voice of Roy Munin.
“I told you… I really did.”
It went viral almost immediately. Soon after the several millionth view of the ramshackle photography the news outlets got their hands on the newly born propaganda. They waved it around, they reshoot clips of interviews with Mr. Munin. They claimed they had been telling us this day would come for a long time. Of course they added in cleverly, “unconfirmed sources,” the occasional, “sources say,” and, invariably, “though only time can tell.” It was a thinly veiled attempt at terror. That’s what news does best. Invoke fear in the people to which it sells its product.
Fear is exactly what Roy Munin’s campaign needed. He was truly sad for the tragedy. IT sunk deep into his heart and sliced at him. Oddly enough, what hurt even more was that he was almost happy that it happened. It was the proof that he needed. It was the evidence that everyone claimed he lacked. For here on out, he had a finger to point. He had something to show people and say, ”They are here NOW.” He chose his words carefully when they asked him for a statement.
“We fight, that’s what we do, we fight for our lives.”
He was still stunned over the event. The sounds and syllables tumbled almost letter by letter from his lips. He remembered seeing Victoria saving him, though it was a blur in his mind. Everything had happened so fast. He watched as a wave of destruction rolled out from the site of the explosion. The rally had been just far enough away that there weren’t any casualties, a few incidental injuries from people falling and running and things but nothing from the scene itself. He later learned that the office had also been empty for one reason or another, so nobody died in the attack at all. How lucky.
His life had been stricken by the event. At first he could almost do nothing, from the mere presence of the happening. Like he was shocked that he had be right. Then though, had come a rallying strength. A vigor fueled by rage and hate and patriotism. The force of will that charged him forth through the night as he tended to the people that were injured, as he saw the looks of horror in the people’s eyes. They would later come to say that they had been there, when it all started. For better or for worse.
Now, Roy Munin commanded a voice that led the eyes of the people. He would call forth their attentions and as they turned they saw what he had seen.
“… and furthermore, don’t you all find it a little underwhelming the amount of funding and attention the government has put forth into consolidating and army here on Earth? Isn’t that strange? Why aren’t we seeing the fortifications, the troops, the manpower that we need to defend ourselves? Maybe they have their minds on extraplanetary trade. Maybe they’re worried about what’s going to happen to their money. I don’t know, I’m not an economist but I know that…”
The people were paying attention now. At least a few of them. Others claimed that the entire thing was a hoax. There had been no known vessels that had been planetside sense the launch of the militia coalition forces earlier that day. Later departures had scattered any chances of finding trails that might have disclaimed this, and so it remained a mystery. Later scans of the explosion area revealed traces of radiation and a faint ki signature indicative of an individual capable of causing such damage. No signs had been found of the alien’s supposed ship that had been seen in the video in the recovery effort, and many skeptics claim that this was a machine designed to leave just such traces. There had also been traces of many home products that could indicate the making of a bomb, but those elements could easily have been found in the building itself. In short, the skeptics had little ground to stand on but the very nature of skepticism itself. What little evidence there was had been vague.
The supporters of Roy Munin had a video of an alien blowing up a building before disappearing into the night.
“Victoria.” Roy’s voice was elated. He was walking down the street, and people had actually began to recognize him. They stopped to greet him and some to shake his hand despite the fact that he was talking on his cell phone. He might have to bring his car down from upstate so he could avoid hounds from here now on. “Yeah, hi! How are you holding up?” He was still a bit leery of Victoria after the event. She had seemed different than she was before. “Hey, they were going to do an interview about the event and I was wondering if you minded coming with me.” She acted strangely after it had happened and then there was the whole thing with her pulling him from the wake of the explosion. She had pulled him so strongly that it had pulled some of the seams in his jacket and knocked the wind out of him when he had landed. It didn’t sit right. “Yeah, well, you saw more of what happened really than I did, and well, we’ve all seen the video. I want to see if I can get another set of eyes on the whole thing. See if we can clear it up for the media.” He stopped on the corner of the street, looking both ways to cross. “Hey listen, yeah I know about your work but this is really important. We could be changing history here.” Making a quick dash on the cross walk and waving to a driver he caught his breath. “Ok, great. I’ll see you tomorrow. Give me a call later.” He couldn’t help but smile, even though he was on the phone. It was just a habit drilled into his skull by the thousands of times he had shown his pearly whites to everyone he had spoken to. He closed the phone and looked out over the day he had made for himself. This path he had forged through tides of uncertainty.
“Victoria.” Sigfried was pacing about the basement like a fiend and threatened to wear tiny holes in the carpet where his feet had landed over and over again. He was calling from a blocked line, hoping that she wasn’t magic in addition to being some kind of terrible super-woman. “You know, I saw you at the rally. I don’t think you are who you say you are.” He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the wall as he spoke as calmly as he could. “I don’t know many people who can run that fast, jump that high… I don’t know many people who would ignore a broken arm.” He had fears that she was a spy. He had hopes she legitimately wanted to help. “Listen, Roy doesn’t know yet.” He was scared that she truly cared about Roy now. “If you’re here to help, I’ll know. If you’re here to fuck with us, trust me. I’ll know.” He closed the phone and let out a long breath. It was a habit he had picked up from all the years of exasperation he had to endure from the sights and sounds of a weary world. He looked through the dungeon he had made. This hideout from reality.
But now… now what could they say? What would anyone say?
There had been, of course, a video camera on the scene. No, none of the high tech, wide angle million dollar cameras that the news crews owned had been quick enough. Just the grainy, thick interference footage from an outdated cell phone, submitted to a popular internet video site by one “MoonChaser1988” just that very night. It depicted Roy Munin offering the stage to a pink haired woman, yet to be named. There is a shout in the crowd, and the camera flicks up to the top of the Mayor’s office building, a vague out of focus yellow man standing atop it. He shouts, but even if it was in a comprehendible language you wouldn’t be able to understand it. The man jumps from the roof just as the screen flashes white, a wall of grit, soot and dust washing over the crowd. From there, there are several minutes of screams and blackness, the sound of the phone being handled roughly. The calm, clear voice of Roy Munin.
“I told you… I really did.”
It went viral almost immediately. Soon after the several millionth view of the ramshackle photography the news outlets got their hands on the newly born propaganda. They waved it around, they reshoot clips of interviews with Mr. Munin. They claimed they had been telling us this day would come for a long time. Of course they added in cleverly, “unconfirmed sources,” the occasional, “sources say,” and, invariably, “though only time can tell.” It was a thinly veiled attempt at terror. That’s what news does best. Invoke fear in the people to which it sells its product.
Fear is exactly what Roy Munin’s campaign needed. He was truly sad for the tragedy. IT sunk deep into his heart and sliced at him. Oddly enough, what hurt even more was that he was almost happy that it happened. It was the proof that he needed. It was the evidence that everyone claimed he lacked. For here on out, he had a finger to point. He had something to show people and say, ”They are here NOW.” He chose his words carefully when they asked him for a statement.
“We fight, that’s what we do, we fight for our lives.”
He was still stunned over the event. The sounds and syllables tumbled almost letter by letter from his lips. He remembered seeing Victoria saving him, though it was a blur in his mind. Everything had happened so fast. He watched as a wave of destruction rolled out from the site of the explosion. The rally had been just far enough away that there weren’t any casualties, a few incidental injuries from people falling and running and things but nothing from the scene itself. He later learned that the office had also been empty for one reason or another, so nobody died in the attack at all. How lucky.
His life had been stricken by the event. At first he could almost do nothing, from the mere presence of the happening. Like he was shocked that he had be right. Then though, had come a rallying strength. A vigor fueled by rage and hate and patriotism. The force of will that charged him forth through the night as he tended to the people that were injured, as he saw the looks of horror in the people’s eyes. They would later come to say that they had been there, when it all started. For better or for worse.
Now, Roy Munin commanded a voice that led the eyes of the people. He would call forth their attentions and as they turned they saw what he had seen.
“… and furthermore, don’t you all find it a little underwhelming the amount of funding and attention the government has put forth into consolidating and army here on Earth? Isn’t that strange? Why aren’t we seeing the fortifications, the troops, the manpower that we need to defend ourselves? Maybe they have their minds on extraplanetary trade. Maybe they’re worried about what’s going to happen to their money. I don’t know, I’m not an economist but I know that…”
The people were paying attention now. At least a few of them. Others claimed that the entire thing was a hoax. There had been no known vessels that had been planetside sense the launch of the militia coalition forces earlier that day. Later departures had scattered any chances of finding trails that might have disclaimed this, and so it remained a mystery. Later scans of the explosion area revealed traces of radiation and a faint ki signature indicative of an individual capable of causing such damage. No signs had been found of the alien’s supposed ship that had been seen in the video in the recovery effort, and many skeptics claim that this was a machine designed to leave just such traces. There had also been traces of many home products that could indicate the making of a bomb, but those elements could easily have been found in the building itself. In short, the skeptics had little ground to stand on but the very nature of skepticism itself. What little evidence there was had been vague.
The supporters of Roy Munin had a video of an alien blowing up a building before disappearing into the night.
--=~*/| o |\*~=--
“Victoria.” Roy’s voice was elated. He was walking down the street, and people had actually began to recognize him. They stopped to greet him and some to shake his hand despite the fact that he was talking on his cell phone. He might have to bring his car down from upstate so he could avoid hounds from here now on. “Yeah, hi! How are you holding up?” He was still a bit leery of Victoria after the event. She had seemed different than she was before. “Hey, they were going to do an interview about the event and I was wondering if you minded coming with me.” She acted strangely after it had happened and then there was the whole thing with her pulling him from the wake of the explosion. She had pulled him so strongly that it had pulled some of the seams in his jacket and knocked the wind out of him when he had landed. It didn’t sit right. “Yeah, well, you saw more of what happened really than I did, and well, we’ve all seen the video. I want to see if I can get another set of eyes on the whole thing. See if we can clear it up for the media.” He stopped on the corner of the street, looking both ways to cross. “Hey listen, yeah I know about your work but this is really important. We could be changing history here.” Making a quick dash on the cross walk and waving to a driver he caught his breath. “Ok, great. I’ll see you tomorrow. Give me a call later.” He couldn’t help but smile, even though he was on the phone. It was just a habit drilled into his skull by the thousands of times he had shown his pearly whites to everyone he had spoken to. He closed the phone and looked out over the day he had made for himself. This path he had forged through tides of uncertainty.
--=~*/| o |\*~=--
“Victoria.” Sigfried was pacing about the basement like a fiend and threatened to wear tiny holes in the carpet where his feet had landed over and over again. He was calling from a blocked line, hoping that she wasn’t magic in addition to being some kind of terrible super-woman. “You know, I saw you at the rally. I don’t think you are who you say you are.” He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the wall as he spoke as calmly as he could. “I don’t know many people who can run that fast, jump that high… I don’t know many people who would ignore a broken arm.” He had fears that she was a spy. He had hopes she legitimately wanted to help. “Listen, Roy doesn’t know yet.” He was scared that she truly cared about Roy now. “If you’re here to help, I’ll know. If you’re here to fuck with us, trust me. I’ll know.” He closed the phone and let out a long breath. It was a habit he had picked up from all the years of exasperation he had to endure from the sights and sounds of a weary world. He looked through the dungeon he had made. This hideout from reality.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]