a flash of red

the sequal to none, and the prequal to all

A flash of red. A spark igniting from the flint grey of the crowd. Quickly as I had seen it, it was gone. "Too long have the wolves the wolves nipped at the heels of the Lions. Too long have they preyed on you dogs. No more." His words, like the water that falls from the sky, pure acid, forced itself onto every dog in the square, an irresistible force driving the words through their skulls.

The words however where lost on me. My slate eyes scanned the eyes like the CCTV cameras that were inevitably doing the same. It was hair. Hair the colour of fire. A deformity, I knew, but it was so beautiful. Another realization struck me like a sledgehammer. Dogs covered their bodies in the presence of us Lions. The spark had to be of the faction forced into rebellion. A wolf.

My father, oblivious to the threat, thrust his hands to the sky, purple robes sticking to his paper thin body, his hair shining gold under the eternal smog in the sky. " A bounty shall be placed in their heads. A single wolf will feed your pups for a night."

heads snapped to attention,

"20 wolves will fed you and your kin for a year.

soft murmers escaped the crowd hungry for food.

"When they are gone, the man with the most heads will be given his place as a lion." The automaton crowd sprung to life at this, galvanized by the hope of freedom. The guards that lined the crowd, dressed head to toe in white drew their electi from their belts to shock the crowd into submission. Father stood almost oblivious to the pain his orders would bring, the death.

There. Beyond the crowd. In the shadow of the ruins of a monastery was the red. Another sight, a beam of sunlight, more pure than the pale blue of the electi. It was almost the mythical sunlight of old hitting... Cold steel. Disbelief riddled my brain, cold steel was pre war and extremely rare, also extremely dangerous. No the electi were dangerous. Cold steel was fatal. The dull silver meter long blade protruding the red ring of death in the centre of the guards was proof of that.

The guards slumped sideways, the blade sliding out of his body, silent amongst the cacophony of the crowd. Instinctively I staggered back a step, then stopped dead. I could see her face. Grimy but beautiful. She was about my age, 17, her lava red hair dominating half her face, the other half dominated by a storm blue eye. I could not help but stare. A hare caught in the spotlight of her gaze. Not even the dogs baying in their monotone of their kind, the same chant that is plastered on every billboard in Haven "We are but dogs under the might of the Lions, we will serve, we will survive," broke the spell.

Not even Red raising her small hands, black with grime, to her mouth could waver my gaze. From her cracked lips an ear-splitting howl erupted. Countless howls responded, the sound reverberating through the crowd. The sound of despondent people who have nothing but the ragged clothes on their back and anger. Black hatred dripped venom from every note of the rebels song.

My father gripped my forearm, his delicate fingers dug into my skin, the velvet robe stung my skin as he pulled me off the stage and into the yawning mouth of the tunnel. The door covered in faded yellow radioactive stickers began its halting descent. There she was, moving through the crowd like a wraith, burdened only by the sword by her side. She made it to the foot of the stage and beckoned me, a lopsided grin on her face when I lost sight of her. Father chuckled softly "Let the bloodbath begin.

Father was gone now. Induced in his chemical sleep, he would not wake till the eclipse of the night, 19 hours time. I couldn't stop noe, her face too deeply ingrained in my mind. Absent-mindedly chewing a food tablet, my weeks worth of food, i followed the tunnels. Corridor upon corridor of abandoned worms stretched beyond the wall and into the wasteland. Dust that had lay dormant for century was stirred by my footsteps, tiny soldiers attacking the soles of my bare feet.