The Anarchist

The leader lives on

"Move back! everybody! Every motherfucking one of you! Now!" The driver screamed through the window. The truck skidded on the gravel and frantically reversed tossing Jean around like a rag doll. The truck began to ride more frantically. Jean grabbed the edge for support and stood up. He looked around the truck a few shotgunners firing and a few more barrels of flammable gas for the arsonists. He looked down amidst the blood.

A flare gun.

He picked up the red stained gun with his hand, the red fluid dripping down his arm like water. He shivered at the thought of it. In the corner with the tanks of flammable gases were boxes of ammo for the shotgunners. Jean clung on to the side the bullets approaching nearer to his hand, ricocheting chaotically off the side of the vehicle. He went onto his knees and stumbled down into the blood. The box was only a small way away but felt like miles.

The imminent rubble piled up rattled the truck as it reversed. Jean kept his eyes on the box of ammo. He crawled slowly his hands pressed tightly against the sides to stay balanced. He lurched forward ripping his muscles and grabbing the box. He slapped his hand on top of the box and slid it off the pile onto the ground nearer to him.

He frantically unclipped the sides and lifted off the lid. There were the flares. He opened his gun and put in a clip. He slid it down the barrel and locked it up ready to shoot it off. He diverted his attention back to the shootout. The sounds gradually resurrected to life. He lifted his head up slowly to see they had edged away as far as they could from the shootout on the front lines.

He thrusted his hands on the edge of the truck and hopped off. He landed onto the dusty rubble road where more and more men were going up against to front lines. The truck kept reversing and stopped at him.

The window rolled down frantically and the driver shouted out at him.

"Don't enter! OK! We don't want you dead!" He flapped his arms around crazily. He stepped on the pedal and was flung back suddenly. Jean ignored him by this point and began to move back. He looked at all the mercenaries being gunned down like rag dolls. The bullets flying everywhere sparking against the cars.

Real life was different he thought. He began to sprint away. Real life is very different than what we had to expect. His breath began to pace. The bullets don't spark against non-metals and they don't cause cars to explode and nor do cars absorb bullets unless they're bulletproof.

He sprinted swinging his arms rampantly by his sides. He felt all the sounds of bullets, screams and sparks and mini explosions all fade away.

Nothing matters right now, nothing matters

He reassured himself. He felt small tears edge out on his eyelids. He kept running he couldn't let emotions get him this way. His feet kept moving hitting hard against the pavements. His heartbeat was now beating rapidly.

It can't be him

He had seen someone from his past. One of the people who broke him into this monster the reason he became a descendant of the antichrist. He felt the drugs surge in his bloodstream over flooding every vessel in his body. He felt two things sadness and rage. He wanted to avenge the injustice done to him. He had to exact his revenge.

This time he didn't run away for good he ran away to become stronger.