Common Man’s mansion stood as a combination of architectural styles. Dadaist, Bau Haus, Colonial expressions all amounted to a mishmash of drooping, rising, twisting elements that he hated. He despised his own outward showiness. Regardless, he persevered in his planning.
Socialista and Fascinder looked attentive.
“See, we don't want failure. We’re coming from the same place, mostly.” He pointed a finger at Socialista.
“You’re most like me and my cause. You’ve chosen to represent for the people and to give the globe a way to share. Strip people of their individuality because we are all one people.” He pointed another finger at Fascinder.
“Sure, you’re a bit different in your approach, but essentially we’re all about tearing away the idea of the one of one mindset. We’re supposed to be gathered together and expand our vision.”
Socialista and Fascinder exchanged glances and then shot a look of affirmation at Common Man.
“So, as we derail the Indos, they should crumble and kiss the dirt off our heels,” Common Man asserted.
“I’ve already drawn up a plan to do this,” Fascinder offered.
“We’re waiting in suspense,” Socialista smirked.
“Alright, we go straight to the government. We say that their rocket plans are ecological disasters waiting to begin,” he licked his lips as if to savor his own words.
“We demonstrate that the company represented by Delaware is actually a fraud. We can draw up documents and draft papers that will support this.”
“Support fallacies?” Socialists asked.
“By the time we’re done, they won’t be fallacies.”
Common Man stroked his beard. He looked at the ground and then up again. “We’ve gotta be sure about this, Fasc’. We can't crusade and not be able to support it.”
“That’s why we’re going to make those industrialist individuals grovel to us by poking holes.”
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Skyler Saunders
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Smartystan
The silver eagles on Colonel Janiah Moseby’s uniform made the blue service uniform pop. Flecks of gray dotted her close cut hair which sat on her almond colored skin. Her petit frame belied her commanding presence, even while seated. Her office in Dover, Delaware at the Dover Air Force Base seemed rather sparse; a small library, some chairs, and her desk occupied the space. As commander of the base, She sat cross-legged, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Dr. Strong faced the high-ranking high flier. He wore a black business suit with no tie.
By Skyler SaundersExclusive • 6 months ago
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The last paragraph was unexpected and turns the story into wanting to read what's next. 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹