Inverse Approach, Identical Aspires

Prologue

          Tension hangs steadily in the air. One side readys themselves for the sure onslaught of a massacre. The others remain indifferent to the pending battle, for they believe their lives hold no value in this timeline of war. Since birth they've been taught to put others first; they are insignificant compared to the flourish of society. It's exactly what makes them such perfect leaders to this nation .

          But sometimes perfect equals the exact opposite. Too much perfect and color is lost, drowned in a sea of order. This is the belief of the counter side. Look past the supposed glimmer of the public and view the truth. You'll see the sheer miscibility of the lower class, the rotten flaw they try so hard to mask. The rich leech off the poor, stealing their light and fashioning it to flimsy accessories. Where does the middle fall into this mess you may ask. Well, they don't, the middle class ceased to exist long ago. Now fate is dictated by the mere luck of a draw. That is, until someone steps up. And this group is up to the job.

          They realize their efforts may be fruitless against the might of the Heroes, but they are willing to try. And trying they have been, years have passed yet little results have announced themselves. Hopefully today, that streak will change.

          "Villians" was the label assigned to them. When in reality, all they desire is the best for the common folk. That's what the Heroes aim for as well, but they've misunderstood what that really is. Intentions may be good and well at first, but it's almost impossible to refrain from straying the path.

          So here we are, both sides face each other amidst the long grassy plains. City lights sparkle in the distance. The swish of bullet trains may be heard all the way out here, miles from the site. Despite the night's apparent presence, heat slithers through the air. It draws forth glistening sweat, making the night sky dance on their skin.

          Up until now, the scene has been frozen, like a paused TV. Then, as if pushing play, the enemies explode to action. Elements rain down upon both sides, blood spurts from the soldiers in every which way, their bones crumble into fragments beneath mighty strength. One of the Heroes summons a gigantic wave of fire, knocking down the Villains like dominoes. Minutes in, and they're already tumbling.

          An ear-shattering boom rings out through the crowd, followed swiftly with a shock kindled halt. Much alike to the beginning pause, except that Villains remain in motion. They slaughter the Heroes with pulsing bullets.

          The Heroes release their mistake, but it's too late. Their soldiers fall ten by one. Sooner than later, no one remains.

          Celebration commences as the Villains register their victory. They've done it. Finally, after years of biased losses, they've stolen back the upper-hand. Happy tears spring from countless eyes. People weep and clutch each other with joy and exhilaration.

          Someone screams.

          And with that, every ounce of glee flees the stage. A mix of sorrow, shock, and despair takes its place. All eyes focus upon their leader, just barely clutching to his last string of life. They knew death was foretold, even accepted it, but this was not what they had bargained for. He parts his lips to utter his finally goodbyes;

          "You must keep going." He says; happy tears changing to sad ones. "This revolution means much more than my own life ever could. We finally have a chance to win this, you can not stop now."

          The morning sun is peeking over the horizon line by the time the last shovel of dirt encases the mounds of dead.