Amidst the remnants of a once vibrant garden, Paul stood clad in a military uniform that bore the weight of New Albion’s oppressive regime. The fabric of his attire, worn and weathered, mirrored the city’s state of decay. A soldier’s mask concealed his features, adding an air of anonymity to the troops preparing for their grim assignment.
The garden, now reduced to a desolate landscape, bore the scars of conflict. Overturned statues and shattered flower beds hinted at the brutality that had befallen this once lush sanctuary. The air carried a heavy stillness, disrupted only by the muted sounds of soldiers gearing up for their impending mission.
Paul’s posture exuded a mix of determination and inner turmoil. His eyes, hidden behind the cold facade of the mask, betrayed the conflict within. The weight of his decision to join the military and the reality of the task ahead lingered in the furrowed lines on his forehead.
In unison with a troop of masked soldiers, Paul adjusted the straps on his uniform, the insignia of the oppressive military force a stark contrast against the subdued colors of the devastated garden. The soldiers moved with practiced precision, a well coordinated unit ready to enforce the will of those in power.
The mission was clear to him, even if it felt, wrong. Storm a house where rumors suggested the presence of a doll. The anticipation hung in the air as the soldiers prepared to carry out their orders. Paul, a newcomer to this grim tableau, felt the weight of his decision intensify as he considered the implications of the actions he was about to undertake.
The masks worn by the soldiers, a symbol of their conformity and dehumanization, obscured their individual identities. In this scene of desolation, the troops moved forward, their purpose defined by an authority that brooked no dissent.
As the soldiers formed a determined line, their faces hidden, Paul’s internal struggle remained concealed. The destroyed garden bore witness to the discord between nature’s inherent beauty and the brutal force of a regime that sought to control and destroy. They marched in unison toward the door of the mansion. The leader spoke up with authority, “Paul, you are new, draw your gun.”
He did so without hesitation, while others were given orders. The leader looked at him, “If there is a doll, you will kill the people there.” Paul nodded.
Four of the soldiers used a battering ram to bust open the door without any announcement. They stormed inside, soldiers scattered to block any exit. Paul, with his gun raised, ran inside and found a family of five, a baby, a small child, a man with a woman, and a doll.
The leader looked at Paul, “Fire.”
“Sir, all of them?”
“Did you not hear me, soldier 7285? Fire!”
Paul gulped, He aimed for the man first, who was cowering in fear and trying to protect his baby, Paul fired, the man collapsed against his wife. He aimed for the woman next and fired, the child screamed and cried. Paul, underneath his mask, cried. With a lump in his throat, he shot the child. The baby was all that remained, the doll tried to protect it.
The leader screamed, “Quickly kill the baby, it is tainted.”
Paul sighed deeply, the fact his leader called the baby an it, felt horrible, he fired his gun and killed the baby next, then he unloaded his magazine into the doll. Another soldier walked into the room, “The rest of the house is clear!”
Stolen story; please report.
Paul lowered his gun, he stared at the dead family, his first assignment, is this what is needed to save New Albion, is this, justified?
Another soldier dragged the doll away from the family and lit it up. The leader looked at Paul, “You have done an impressive job, Soldier 7285.”
He saluted, “Thank you, sir.”
As they all left the house, the bodies in bags, they were brought to the military burner as they called it. A place where the dead are thrown into a large pit of fire. The leader focused on Paul, “Patrol this road, if you see anything, I command you to let us know, we will burn down this tainted house!”
Paul nodded as he saluted, he reloaded his gun and started his patrol. Under the harsh glow of streetlights that flickered intermittently, Paul patrolled the desolate streets of New Albion. The once bustling thoroughfare now lay in eerie silence, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the military machinery and the stifled sobs of those trying to survive under the oppressive regime, which was worse than when Edgar ruled.
The buildings, still scarred by the riots, loomed over the narrow alleyways like silent witnesses to the city’s unraveling. The air carried a sense of foreboding, and shadows danced on the walls as Paul moved with a practiced vigilance, his every step a reminder of the control the military asserted over the city.
As Paul navigated the labyrinthine streets, his eyes scanned the darkness for any signs of defiance or dissent. His uniform, a symbol of authority, felt heavy on his shoulders as he adhered to the strict orders given to him by the oppressive regime that now rules New Albion.
In a secluded alley, hidden away from the prying eyes of the military, Paul’s sharp gaze caught a fleeting movement. His instincts kicked in, and he approached cautiously with his gun drawn, his senses heightened by the tension that permeated the air.
There, in the shadows, he discovered a young girl huddled against the cold brick wall, clutching a doll tightly to her chest. The girl’s eyes, wide with fear, met Paul’s gaze. At that moment, the weight of his uniform and the weight of his conscience collided. “What are you doing here, little girl?”
“My sister and I are hiding, please, don’t kill me, please, don’t kill me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Despite the explicit orders to enforce the eradication of dolls and those who own them, Paul hesitated. The innocence reflected in the young girl’s eyes struck a chord within him, a reminder of the humanity buried beneath the layers of military protocol. He was supposed to shoot this girl, in cold blood?
In a daring act of compassion, Paul chose to look the other way. His decision to help the young girl escape unseen defied the rigid boundaries of his role as a soldier. With a subtle gesture, he signaled her to remain silent and hidden. He checked the surrounding streets, they were clear. He gestured her to walk away.
She nodded while sobbing and sniffling, as the young girl slipped away into the shadows, Paul continued his patrol, haunted by the dichotomy of duty and humanity. The alley, once a temporary refuge, echoed with the footsteps of a conflicted soldier, torn between the orders that bound him and the empathy that flickered within him. He bumped against a woman.
She gasped in fear, she was wearing robes, an older Jackie, she got ready to throw dust in his face. Paul grabbed her hand and stopped her, “Don’t I won’t hurt you.”
“Excuse me, where is the girl, don’t tell me you killed her.”
“No, I helped her escape.”
Jackie felt conflicted, “What, we are supposed to be enemies.”
Paul studied her, “You are one of the original Voodoopunks, aren’t you? You have no association with them, or the dolls, as of this moment. If I let them know you were going to help a doll escape, they will storm your mansion and kill you.”
Jackie stared at him, “Then do it, I already lost many friends and loved ones, I guess one day it will be my time.”
Paul removed his mask and looked at her, he shed a tear, “Not all of us agree with the way things are, despite my role. I just, I was ordered to kill people. I did not want to do that, can you promise me, your movement can one day free us all?”
Jackie tilted her head, “I will promise you, that I will do everything in my power to avenge Amelia and Byron, Dorothy. Why are you like this?”
“I grew up while Edgar was under rule, I always thought it was bad, until this, this is so much worse. Now leave, I will not tell anyone I saw you dabbling in forbidden arts.”
Jackie nodded, she quickly passed him and walked into the street where Paul pointed he to where he had led the girl. He put his mask back on, What did I get myself into? Did I just, let one of the Voodoopunks go, even if I had evidence?
He sighed deeply and continued with his patrol of the street. His mind was, clouded, This cannot be the way to save New Albion, right?