Businesswoman 359

A trail of vodka like a transparent blood line on the floor. Socialista picked up the bottle and chugged.

“We’ve gotta hit them with the idea that we’re prepared to knock over their rocket. It’s against the environment and the welfare of the Earth,” Socialista swallowed and announced.

Common Man took the manifesto. He pored over it and pointed out, poking a sausage-like forefinger at the page.

“Wait…we have to go harder than this. The launch is in days and we’re going to have to go online and make this thing viral.”

“Forget it. Let’s just pack it up and be away with it.” His voice sounded like vitriol bubbling up in his throat. Yet, it seemed quiet and icy as well.

“I know how long we have,” the Socialista acknowledged. “What we can do is put this on all major news outlets.”

“It won’t matter,” Fascinder muttered with malice.

“C’mon, Fasc! This defeatist attitude blocks us from our way. We’re right. We’re the ones who are going to stomp on the necks of the indies. They’re not in control. We are. The people—”

“We’re the people who have no real power. The ‘people’ look at us and see a shell of our former selves. We used to be the people’s choice. We used to be the ones they turned to in order to get the truth. Now….”

“Now, we take up our armor and fight. Now, we show the world our strength in the group. We’re supposed to be the ones who represent the little people. We step on their heads in order to get to the provisions,” Socialista explained.

Fascinder pulled out his phone and attached the document to a dozen or more news sources.

“There. Is everybody happy?” He grinned and then grimaced in half a second.