06-21-2014, 02:11 PM
The fires had been burning in Mexico City for three days and its citizens greeted the sight with joy. Damien stood at the head of a growing crowd of restless souls. Spatzinov stood to his right and Rosita his left with an armed escort of nearly two hundred. The Zócalo was abuzz with mutterings of anger and fear as they watched the main branch of the Nacional Monte de Piedad burn in the north-west corner of the plaza.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Spatzinov said surveying the masses with a critical eye. Yulian had given Gamez his twenty guards as a proof of his commitment to their arrangement and now they served Damien in truth but habits died hard and he doubted Spatzinov would stop complaining any time soon. Nonetheless, he obeyed when necessary; the rest would come in time.
“It is a bit too late for Oakland to back out now, no?”
Rosita added with a wry grin which broadened at the Custody man’s glare.
Damien endured their colorful conversations with a faint smile while he assessed the blazing building. The damage was mostly superficial according to their intelligence but Damien did not trust to chance and wanted to view it for himself before they proceeded.
Finally satisfied, he turned to the people full of the Light. The Zócalo was filled with the deep bass of a pounded drum, formed from a curious combination of the Light Damien had discovered in his time at San Quentin. Sound and light had been among the first of his experimentations; simple combinations which had then led him to delve into more complex and deadly patterns of the Light.
It took only one resounding beat to hush the crowd into confused silence. All attention turned to him, dressed in a luxurious coat of blue and black cut to draw the eye. He looked out into the red sky of dusk and found a desperate people begging for release. Forming another pattern similar to the last, Damien spoke and his amplified voice echoed throughout the Zócalo.
“Good citizens of Mexico City, I beg but a moment of your time. I am not a native to this land, but I love your home like a brother. Once, the people of Mexico saved my life. Today, I return to repay its people in kind.”
Damien’s tone turned a shade darker with a mournful cast. “For there is a tumour in the heart of Mexico and each of you that have joined me here has already taken the first courageous step. A step for justice and freedom. A step to cut away the cancer that is strangling the lifeblood of this nation.”
Angry and confused murmurs began to break out amongst the crowd. Some shouted their scepticism others their doubt and fear at the words of a foreigner. Damien spoke over them, his tone demanding their silence and attention. “I know the fear of hopelessness, I share your pain. Sentenced to die for an accident! To sate the pride of corrupt officials! Yet I stand before you now in defiance of injustice.”
“The great nations of the world have forgotten their humanity. They will not save you. The United States has fallen to vain ambition and abandons its own people for the sake of regaining lost power. Justice has died within the heart of the Eagle, they would only use you as a pawn to sacrifice in their petty squabbles with the Custody!”
“Nikolai Brandon cares nothing for Mexico or its plight. The Custody has brought stability to many nations, it is true. Yet I see no army to protect the Mexican people. I see no aid forthcoming. No, Mexico must save itself, just as I have done. I will bear the same burdens as you, willingly, but I cannot save you alone.”
“Watch out, Oakland,”
Rosita whispered from behind, but Damien held out a hand. He had spotted the commotion that rippled through the crowd. A man pushed his way through to the front wielding a pistol.
“You do not belong here, foreigner! Don’t listen to this man’s lies! He will lead you all to your deaths!”
The fool should have shot him while he had the chance. Damien struck the pistol with a pattern that melted the metal in the cartel assassin’s hands. He then lifted him in the air with invisible ropes for all to see. “Behold the cancer that has grown here! They would seek to silence me in their fear and greed, but I will not allow the Mexican people to be silenced.”
Damien spun the man who now wept with bulging eyes towards the burning building. With another pattern, this time much stronger, he drew the flames from the scorched structure. With a grunt and a clenched fist, Damien drew the fire upwards in a spiral that spun in the air leaving the building burnt but not destroyed. Black flecks crossed his vision and he steadied himself with a hand grasping Rosita’s shoulder.
“Tell your masters and their cronies what you have witnessed here, assassin,”
Damien addressed the floating man and the crowd which marvelled at the spinning fire above their heads. In truth, the fire was small, but it loomed larger than life as it defied reason. “Tell them Mexico will no longer be a slave to greed.”
He wished to say more, but his strength was failing. Releasing the assassin who ran as if the devil nipped at his heels, Damien sagged. The fire above winked out and after a time of stunned silence the Zócalo erupted with cheers.
Edited by Damien, Jun 21 2014, 03:27 PM.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Spatzinov said surveying the masses with a critical eye. Yulian had given Gamez his twenty guards as a proof of his commitment to their arrangement and now they served Damien in truth but habits died hard and he doubted Spatzinov would stop complaining any time soon. Nonetheless, he obeyed when necessary; the rest would come in time.
“It is a bit too late for Oakland to back out now, no?”
Rosita added with a wry grin which broadened at the Custody man’s glare.
Damien endured their colorful conversations with a faint smile while he assessed the blazing building. The damage was mostly superficial according to their intelligence but Damien did not trust to chance and wanted to view it for himself before they proceeded.
Finally satisfied, he turned to the people full of the Light. The Zócalo was filled with the deep bass of a pounded drum, formed from a curious combination of the Light Damien had discovered in his time at San Quentin. Sound and light had been among the first of his experimentations; simple combinations which had then led him to delve into more complex and deadly patterns of the Light.
It took only one resounding beat to hush the crowd into confused silence. All attention turned to him, dressed in a luxurious coat of blue and black cut to draw the eye. He looked out into the red sky of dusk and found a desperate people begging for release. Forming another pattern similar to the last, Damien spoke and his amplified voice echoed throughout the Zócalo.
“Good citizens of Mexico City, I beg but a moment of your time. I am not a native to this land, but I love your home like a brother. Once, the people of Mexico saved my life. Today, I return to repay its people in kind.”
Damien’s tone turned a shade darker with a mournful cast. “For there is a tumour in the heart of Mexico and each of you that have joined me here has already taken the first courageous step. A step for justice and freedom. A step to cut away the cancer that is strangling the lifeblood of this nation.”
Angry and confused murmurs began to break out amongst the crowd. Some shouted their scepticism others their doubt and fear at the words of a foreigner. Damien spoke over them, his tone demanding their silence and attention. “I know the fear of hopelessness, I share your pain. Sentenced to die for an accident! To sate the pride of corrupt officials! Yet I stand before you now in defiance of injustice.”
“The great nations of the world have forgotten their humanity. They will not save you. The United States has fallen to vain ambition and abandons its own people for the sake of regaining lost power. Justice has died within the heart of the Eagle, they would only use you as a pawn to sacrifice in their petty squabbles with the Custody!”
“Nikolai Brandon cares nothing for Mexico or its plight. The Custody has brought stability to many nations, it is true. Yet I see no army to protect the Mexican people. I see no aid forthcoming. No, Mexico must save itself, just as I have done. I will bear the same burdens as you, willingly, but I cannot save you alone.”
“Watch out, Oakland,”
Rosita whispered from behind, but Damien held out a hand. He had spotted the commotion that rippled through the crowd. A man pushed his way through to the front wielding a pistol.
“You do not belong here, foreigner! Don’t listen to this man’s lies! He will lead you all to your deaths!”
The fool should have shot him while he had the chance. Damien struck the pistol with a pattern that melted the metal in the cartel assassin’s hands. He then lifted him in the air with invisible ropes for all to see. “Behold the cancer that has grown here! They would seek to silence me in their fear and greed, but I will not allow the Mexican people to be silenced.”
Damien spun the man who now wept with bulging eyes towards the burning building. With another pattern, this time much stronger, he drew the flames from the scorched structure. With a grunt and a clenched fist, Damien drew the fire upwards in a spiral that spun in the air leaving the building burnt but not destroyed. Black flecks crossed his vision and he steadied himself with a hand grasping Rosita’s shoulder.
“Tell your masters and their cronies what you have witnessed here, assassin,”
Damien addressed the floating man and the crowd which marvelled at the spinning fire above their heads. In truth, the fire was small, but it loomed larger than life as it defied reason. “Tell them Mexico will no longer be a slave to greed.”
He wished to say more, but his strength was failing. Releasing the assassin who ran as if the devil nipped at his heels, Damien sagged. The fire above winked out and after a time of stunned silence the Zócalo erupted with cheers.
Edited by Damien, Jun 21 2014, 03:27 PM.