Inside a gaudy and extravagant bedroom, a middle-aged man is sleeping peacefully inside his bed, a beautiful young woman lying on his chest. A knock comes from the door, waking both up.
“Good morning, Sir. Your breakfast will be ready shortly, and the morning’s newspaper is already set out on the table.” An old butler walks into the room, helping to prepare the man for the day to come.
The woman moves off the man’s chest and sits up, covering herself with the blanket. The man gets up as well, rubbing his face. He yawns, stretching his arm around the woman and pulling her closer towards him, feeling her up, causing the blanket to fall slightly, partially revealing her naked body. “What do I have planned today?” He turns and asks his butler, ignoring the embarrassed blush on the woman’s face as she scrambles to cover herself.
“You have a meeting with your advisors at nine, lunch with your investors at noon, and a public speech at three o’clock.” The butler says, pulling out a small notebook from his breast pocket.
“Alright.” The man sighs, stepping out of the bed into a pair of slippers. Before getting up, he turns back to the woman. Feeling her up a little. “Make sure to have yourself ready by the time I get back. I’m going to need some stress relief by the time I'm finished talking with my advisors.” He walks out of the room with his butler in tow.
Sitting down to have breakfast, the man reads his newspaper while enjoying a cup of tea. The paper is filled with news of his glorious deeds from the past week, with the main page focusing on the children he saved from hunger last week. Those children are such good workers.
~
Outside, on the road leading up to the manor’s gate, a crowd slowly starts to form. One by one, more and more people start to show up. Young or old, male or female, all start to crowd around his gate. Their clothes are tattered, and they look exhausted and weary, but a spark is burning in their hearts. One person in the crowd starts to shout, followed by another, and another. The crowd's shouting soon becomes cacophonous, with every single person in that crowd shouting out all the grievances in their hearts.
The security at the gate raises their guns, pointing them at the crowd, silencing the ones at the front, but not doing anything to stop the entire mob.
“Step away from the gate!” A grizzled old guard shouts, their voice barely being heard because of the crowd's shouting. Seeing the crowd grow larger, a young guard starts to sweat, his finger shakily pressed against the trigger. The tension continues to rise as the people push themselves against the gate, causing it to groan.
~
While the politician is enjoying his breakfast, one of the servants runs up to the butler, whispering into his ear. Upon hearing the news, the butler sends the servant back to keep an eye on the situation.
“Sir, it looks like a situation is developing outside, and we may have to postpone your morning appointment.”
“Great. I never liked talking to those scumbags anyway.” The man says, completely relaxed, even taking a long sip of his tea. “So, what’s happening out there?”
“It seems like some poor people are rioting at the front gate. However, the guards seem to be handling the situation just fine, and they are ready to shoot if the need arises.” The butler says, also not taking the situation too seriously.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The man stands up, keeping hold of his cup of tea. “Let’s go to the balcony. I should be able to enjoy the show from there.” The two make their way back upstairs, heading onto the balcony. Looking down at the front gate, they can see the seething mass of peasants. “There’s quite a lot of people. Someone must have planned this.”
After a while, the rioting gets more intense, as people in the crowd spot him on the balcony. They start throwing things over the fence, trying to hit him. Tomatoes splatter across the ground, with some of them hitting the guards. The rioters' shouts grow louder, reaching the balcony.
“FUCK YOU MIKE.” One of the voices is very clear, punctuated by a well-timed rock smashing through one of the windows.
“Find whoever threw that rock. If they can’t find them, just tell them to pull out a random person, I don’t really give a shit. I want to set an example.” The word is quickly passed down to the guards, as Mike steps back inside.
~
The guards raise their guns, firing into the air. The deafening sound of the bullets silencing the crowd.
“Whoever threw that rock better show themselves before the count of ten, or the next bullets will be shot right at your faces.” The same guard as before shouts. The guards step forward in unison, shoving back the people against the gate with their guns. “10, 9, 8, 7...” As he starts to count down, the crowd grows nervous, now starting to fear for their lives. The young guard also grows nervous, his eyes darting between the faces in the crowd. In the crowd, a woman raises one hand, the other grabbing tightly onto the arm of a young man next to her. She opens her mouth to yell out.
BANG.
The woman’s head bursts open, blood splattering onto the stunned crowd. The man next to her stands there in shock, not even registering the blood and brain matter coating his face.
The guards turn to stare at the young guard as he drops to his knees, panicking over what he just did. The old guard smiles. “See, that is what’s going to happen to you if you don’t hand the man over, so everyone better step aside and let us do our job.”
The entire crowd steps back, except for the young man standing next to the body, who is still stunned. The guards swarm out of the gate, quickly apprehending the man and pulling him back inside. They force him onto his knees in front of the crowd, pointing their guns at him.
Seeing this, Mike steps through the front door, making his way to the young man. He pulls out a revolver, raising the young man’s chin with it. “You’ve just damaged my property, how are you going to pay for it?”
The young man splutters nervously, “Please Sir, I-” The cold barrel of the gun presses against his head.
“Think about your next words carefully. I’m not as merciful as my guards here.” Mike kicks the young man hard in the stomach, causing him to keel over. He shoves the gun firmly against the side of his head. “Now tell me. How are you going to pay for it.” He says through gritted teeth, clearly enunciating every word.
“You can’t do this to him, he’s just a boy.” An old frail man walks shakily out of the crowd, as if he could be blown over by the wind at any moment. His voice is barely audible but is filled with immense anger.
“Father don’t-” A woman yells out, trying to reach her father through the crowd.
BANG.
“Does anybody else feel like questioning me?” Mike says before turning his gun back to the young man who is now quivering at his feet.
“Good morning, Mike. You have committed many atrocities, and the public has now wised up to what you have done. You have killed many people, and enslaved countless more, through your militaristic strength. But one day, your guards won’t be able to protect you from the true anger of your people. Repent and change your ways. Give the people what they need, and they will fight for you, not against you. This is your last chance to-”
BANG.
The young man’s head bursts open, splattering blood onto Mike’s shoes. “Shut up! Do you think just because you have a megaphone you can talk like you’re some kind of saviour?” He begins to walk away from the crowd, leaving the guards to handle the clean-up. As he walks back to the door, he hears a loud bang behind him, as the gate topples to the ground. The rioters have broken through.
The rioters flood in, turning into a stampede, the guards are knocked down before they have a chance to strike, their guns now in the hands of the mob. They quickly surround Mike, punching and kicking him. He starts to bruise and bleed under the stomping of the crowd.
“As I was saying. This was your last chance to change your ways and save yourself from the fiery damnation of your people. But you have failed, inciting their anger, and igniting the passion in their souls. You no longer hold control over them. Enjoy Hell, Mike.”