The Desperado Undead (4/20)

1

Amadeus lay asleep as Joel and Garrison fell into Hell, alone in bed for the first time in a long, long time. It was the best sleep he’d had since he met Elana, and he was having a dream he would remember from the night he had it to the day he died.

He was seemingly alone, sitting on a park bench. The park he was in was the most beautiful location he’d ever seen. A fountain, made from pure lonsdaleite, a crystal similar to diamond, just stronger, with crystal clear water. There were flowers of every kind known to man in various bushes and patches planted around the park. The grass was the definition of green. The trees were tall, sturdy oaks. The bench was wooden but more comfortable than a bed of clouds.

A man walked over and sat beside him. The whole time, from when he sat down to when he woke up, he never got a good look at his face. Every time he tried to look at his face it seemed to be blurry and not fully there. What he was able to pick out were bits and pieces of faces of copious amounts of different people he’d seen in his life. He could tell the man was old, that’s all he knew for sure.

The man sat down and began to flip through a picture book he had been holding. Amadeus looked over his shoulder and saw what the book contained. Picture after picture of various things that had brought many memories he’d tried to forget flooding back. So many painful, scary, horrible memories. He looks directly at one picture, it was a television news broadcast right as the NWO was beginning to come to fruition.

The newscaster sat in front of his desk and reported, “The streets run red with blood tonight, in the capital city of the confederation as government officials and armed forces clash with the militant World Order phalanx and subsidiaries of a group of men known only as The Judicators. Marching under a red flag of worldwide government, these self-entitled ‘protectors’ promise to usher in a new era of peace and equality free from the tyranny and oppression of some of our current governments and the crime-lord syndicates that police our streets at night. Are these men the answers to our prayers? Have they been sent to deliver us from the bodysnatcher epidemic? Or will their sacrifice be in vain? How many more will die tonight?”

Amadeus quickly looks away.

The man turned to him, “are you sure you’re ready to let these go?”

Amadeus looked down at the book, and back at the man, “yes. Yes, I’m ready.”

The man grunts and the book fades. Amadeus can’t take his eyes off the man’s not-quite-face as he looks around then back at Amadeus.

“Do you have time to talk,” the man asks.

“Of course,” Amadeus tells him.

“...I strike you as an individual who would cower at the presence of an entity as primitive and primordial as fear...whimper like a dog as he scurries to his master’s heel. The power of fear is a disparaging force to be reckoned with. But the power of belief is strongest here.”

“Where’s here,” Amadeus asks.

“Staria, of course!”

Amadeus thinks for a moment.

“Goodbye Amadeus, I’ve enjoyed this talk.”

“Wait,” Amadeus says, “no, no don’t go! Who are you?”

He falls fully back asleep. He awoke later that morning, feeling more rested than he had since he was just a kid. He threw the sheets off of him and got out of bed, a giant smile spread across his face. A song gets stuck in his head as he grabs clothes from the black dresser that was directly across from his bed. He begins to hum Bohemian Rhapsody as he dresses. He was walking taller than ever before.

“Mama,” he sings as he walks down the hallway and into the kitchen, “ooooooo, didn’t mean to make you cry! If I’m not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on!”

“What are you doing,” Ripley asks from behind him.

Amadeus jumps a bit, startled by the sudden appearance of his daughter. He turns, looks at her, and chuckles.

“I’m committing genocide,” he says sarcastically.

“Against who,” she asks.

He laughs, ”stupid questions get stupid answers, Rip.”

She looks at him and says nothing. He hugs her and she walks back to her room. Today, he’s too happy to notice the weird things about her. Everything that changed when she almost got bodysnatched. Amadeus chalked it up to an odd kind of PTSD, she might need therapy, but for now, he’d let her deal with it however she saw fit. Today was too good of a day to worry...for now.

He walked out of his house, still with a massive smile. He barely noticed the cloudy, depressing weather. He walked across the street to Jack’s house and knocked on the dark brown door. Jack came out about a minute later.

“Sup, Am,” he says cheerily.

“What’s going on brother,” he asks and hugs Jack.

“Woah, ok, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Oh, Jackie...everything.”

“Huh! Surprised you aren’t stressing over your speech today.”

Welp, d*mmit. There goes his good mood. He had completely forgotten about his speech until just now. Amadeus had a speech to give on a major news network not just shown in Staria but also in the rest of the world. The NWO expected it to be a surrender speech, and that is not at all what it was going to be. He had it planned out, but he always let emotions take over during his speeches. He always dropped the plans and said what felt right, and it always worked. People who saw him speak could tell you from experience, he was electrifying.

When Amadeus spoke, the result was almost always the same. He would devolve into passionate, inspiring, emotional yelling of empowering words. And at the end, the crowd would cheer, a standing ovation usually, scream, and go about their days afterward feeling truly impacted by what they had heard. A prime example was his most recent speech, it ended with him screaming that the citizens of Staria must have faith in him because he was the resistance, and they screamed back that he had to faith in them because they were the resistance. He vividly remembered seeing all the faces in the crowd on that day. Several people were teary-eyed, others looked more riled up than ever before.

His coming speech would be the same, just for all the world to see. He had until one in the afternoon to prepare, so three and a half hours. It was a two-hour drive, so in reality, he had an hour and a half to prepare, plenty.

2

Billy turned on the coffee maker in his little six-hundred-fifty-square-foot trailer. He walked away from it as it made the coffee, and grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the opposite kitchen counter. He was in just a pair of jeans. He lit the cigarette and the doorbell rang. His head fell back as he sighed. He tried to make his hair look at least semi-decent with his hand as he made his way to his bedroom. The doorbell rang again.

“I’ll be there in a moment! Christ on a stick,” he yells.

He grabs a plain white shirt off the ground and puts it on. He rushes back to the front door and opens it. He sees Amanda standing on his porch with a smile, holding some container covered with tin foil.

“Morning,” Amanda says cheerily, “thought I’d bring you a little something, just as a sort of welcome gift.”

“Oh...well,” he takes the container, “uh...thank you.”

He reaches his hand out and Amanda shakes it.

“So what do you have planned for today,” she asks Billy.

“Look,” he says, “if it’s conversation you want that’s perfectly fine with me, you’re just gonna have to come on in. It’s gettin too cold to be standin out here like this.”

She agrees and walks into Billy’s home. She enters into the living room which leads directly into the kitchen. In the living room is a small leather couch large enough for two people to sit and one to lay. The floor is entirely hardwood throughout the house and the walls are nothing but white except in the living room where it is wooden paneling. A bookshelf sat on the northern wall of the living room, directly to Amanda’s right, that was filled with not books, but boxes upon boxes upon boxes of ammunition. Not to mention his two revolvers and their respective holsters.

Amanda hears Billy say something about coffee, but she is too entranced by the two revolvers to really register whatever it was he said. They were probably the most beautiful firearms she had ever seen. She walked over to them to give a closer look. She approached the bookshelf and stared at herself through the shining iron barrels. She doesn’t notice Billy approaching her from behind until he is standing next to her. He says something she doesn’t quite catch.

She turns to him, “hm?”

“I said they’s beauts ain’t they,” Billy asks.

“Oh, yeah, they’re awesome.”

Billy chuckles, “yessir.”

He picks one up and sits down on the couch. Amanda joins him.

“I was no more than seven, my daddy was able to see right through the safety facade of the NWO, he knew the sh*tstorm they would bring about,” Billy tells Amanda, “so he bought me a nice grip, and created the rest of the gun himself. The barrel, the cylinder where the bullets are held, the sights, all of it. Just not these here wooden grips.”

He turns the gun over so she can see the bottom of the barrel, “on both this and the other, he engraved right here on the bottom of the barrel, ‘Billy Henderson personal danger removers’,” Billy laughs, “that was my pops, always tryna be the comedian.”

He inspects the gun a bit longer before opening the cylinder. One bullet takes up one of the five spots.

“What’s that,” Amanda asks.

“Oh...well...haha,” he unloads the bullet, “I call this my get-me-the-eff-outta-here bullet.”

He hands it to her. She looks it over and notices that it too is engraved, likely by Billy rather than his father. It simply states;

Billy H.

“It’s for myself if ya couldn’t tell,” Billy tells her, “I’m not suicidal I just...I carry it around just in case y’know. I don’t wanna die to the gun of another man, so I decided that I’d make this, and if there’s ever a situation where I cannot win a fight, or I am doomed to die, I’d take myself out. Because I’m only gonna die to mother nature or myself.”

Amanda stares at him, stunned. He looks at her, gives a slight exhale-laugh, and puts the bullet back into the cylinder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell ya all my whole life story,” he says.

“Oh, no,” Amanda says, “it’s fine, really, really. I came here to get to know you a bit better.”

“Oh,” he says and chuckles, “well then there ya go.”

He gets up and puts the revolver back. He walks to the kitchen and grabs his coffee.

“You want anything,” Billy asks Amanda.

“Just some water would be nice!”

He nods and grabs a glass from the counter over the sink. He fills it with water from the sink and takes it to her.

“What’s up with that Joel fella?”

“What do you mean,” she asks.

“He was MIA when I was bein’ introduced to everyone, yet y’all talked about him like he was as important as you or Jack.”

Amanda never considered this. Where was Joel yesterday? Not to mention that he never picked up his phone, which was the definition of weird for him. She began to worry a little, was Joel okay?

“I...I don’t know...I’m gonna call him,” she says to Billy.

Billy nods and she goes outside. When she gets out of the house and onto Billy’s porch, she pulls out her phone and dials Joel’s number. She puts the phone to her ear and...ring...ring...ring….ring...ring.

Dear lord Joel, pick up. The phone rings again and again...but Joel never picks up. She hangs up and stares at her phone for a moment, thinking. She goes back into Billy’s house.

“Did he pick up,” Billy asks.

“No. I'm gonna go to his place to see if he’s there, you wanna come with me.”

Billy thinks for a moment, shrugs, and agrees.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” he says.

She nods and goes outside. While outside, Amanda’s mind races, thinking about all the possibilities of what may have happened. Did he get assassinated? Did he end his own life? Did he run off to help the NWO for whatever reason? She was going to find out. Billy came out onto the porch with her, she noticed the only things that had changed with him were he now had his instantly recognizable cowboy hat on and both of his revolvers strapped to each hip.

They begin the walk down Cloverfield Lane towards Joel‘s house. Billy took an unused trailer behind the Wong residence when he moved in, that’s all Amadeus was willing to spare for free. People paid Amadeus whenever they wanted to buy a home in Staria, and he used the money for things like purchasing things to arm his soldiers and expanding the city. He kept no more than ten percent of what he made for himself.

They spoke very little as they walked. Billy kept his head down the whole time, thinking about how far he had come in the past few days. He went from a wannabe cowboy to the man that killed a Judicator and lived to tell the tale in a matter of days. Impressive. Amanda’s thoughts raced of Joel and what may have happened. If he wasn’t at his home, she would have to inform Amadeus.

After no more than two minutes of walking, they approached the house. Amanda took the lead and walked up to the door. She knocked on the door and...nothing. She knocked again and called Joel’s name. Still nothing. Not good. She knocked much harder and yelled louder.

“Sh*t,” She mutters.

“Alright,” Billy says as he approaches the door, “watch out lady.”

He pounds on the door and screams Joel’s name.

“He had his chance,” Billy says.

Billy kicks in the door with one well-placed kick right beneath the shiny, gold knob,\. The door flies open. Billy waves inside and steps out of the way.

“Ladies first,” he says.

Amanda goes in, completely ignoring Billy. She searches the house room to room yelling for Joel. Nothing. Not a trace in the entire house. T

he only thing she notices is his shotgun missing and his closet open. Tears begin to form in her eyes and she covers her mouth to keep in any sobs that might escape. Billy comes over and puts his arm around her, trying to console her.

“I...I’m fine,” She tells him

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She pulls out her phone and dials Amadeus’ number. The phone begins to ring.

3

Amadeus is on the phone with one of Staria’s constables, who started his call with a phrase Amadeus would be completely sick of by the end of the day, “Amadeus, we’ve got a problem.” The constable went on to describe how a sixteen-year-old shot and killed two peers who were supposedly attacking him. The constable felt it was best for Amadeus to deal with something as serious as murder in Staria, so he called to inform him and ask him to come take care of the situation. That’s when Amanda called. He told the constable he would call him back and accepted the call from Amanda.

“Am? Am, we’ve got a problem,” she said almost immediately.

There it is again he thinks before responding, “what’s up?”

“Amadeus,” she says, panic audible in her voice, “I think Joel is gone!”

He scoffs, “You’re crazy, he-”

“Shut the f*ck up and listen to me! You are going to hear me out, do you understand?!”

Amadeus was a little startled. He couldn’t remember the last time Amanda was so assertive. He was proud.

“Okay, okay,” he says, “look, I have another issue to deal with, how about I send Jack or Anne-Marie over and-”

“I have Billy with me. We can look for him, I just...I just thought you should know.”

Amadeus sighs, “yeah, thanks...good job.”

They sit on the phone in silence for a couple of moments.

“Okay, “ Amadeus says, “keep me updated, I’ll talk to you later.”

Amanda agrees and Amadeus hangs up. That’s two problems now. One more and I’M OUT! He considers calling the constable back but decides against it. He thinks he’s gotten all the information he needs. He goes into his bedroom and grabs his .45 Glock that sat on his bedside table, he puts it into its holster and attached the holster to his belt.

“Ripley,” Amadeus yells, “I’m goin out to deal with a little issue across town!”

No response. HE rolls his eyes and goes to Ripley’s room. She isn’t there. Oh God, we may have a problem. He walks into the living room and sees she is sitting on the couch. Good, no problem.

“Hey Rip,” he says.

She grunts in response.

“Whatcha doin?”

“Listening.”

“Listening to what?”

“Both of the voices.”

Both? I Knew the Mirror was talking to her but what’s this other voice?

“What voices,” Amadeus asks.

“The Mirror...and the bad one.”

Amadeus started getting a little nervous. Another voice? A bad one? He sat down next to her.

“What’s the bad voice hun,” he asks.

“I don’t know. It’s far though. But not for long. It feels like...home.”

“...What are they saying,” Amadeus asks.

“They are talking to each other. Planning.”

Amadeus sighs. Here we go again with this magic sh*t.

“Go hang out with your friends or something. Just away from the Mirror.”

Ripley says nothing, gets up, and leaves the house. Amadeus turns to the basement door, mentally preparing to talk to the Mirror.

You want to talk to me, yes? The Mirror says in its telepathic voice.

How did you know?

I could feel it, Amadeus. Well, I’m here to talk, what might be troubling you?

Who - or what - are you talking to?

Well, you, of course.

No. That thing my daughter was talking about, the bad voice, who is it.

Amadeus, I know not what you speak of.

Don’t lie to me or so help me christ I will come down there right now and shatter you with my bare effing hands.

...I appreciate the self-censorship. To be completely honest Amadeus, that ‘bad voice’ your daughter speaks of is nothing to worry about. Simply a spirit, embedded in an object, similarly to me.

I can’t hear you unless I’m in my home, she can hear it from ‘far away’.

Well, because it is a much, much more powerful spirit.

Ugh...look, you make sure it stays away from my daughter and my city and I’ll keep you alive, sound good?

Sounds perfect, Amadeus.

Good. That was one issue down. Now time for the might-be-self-defense kid. Amadeus left the house and got into his car. It was a white Dodge Ranger he was given by Joel last Christmas, God only knew how he got his hands on it. He got in the truck and started to drive. Off Cloverfield Lane and onto Sand Street. From there onto Mulberry Street, then to Broken Boulevard. SO on and so forth until he finally arrived at the scene of the (maybe) crime. A basketball court between four apartment buildings, only accessible from an alleyway on Culbert Drive.

He got out of the truck, walked through the alley, and saw the scene for the first time. In the court was the boy in question, sixteen if Amadeus remembered correctly, he never got his name though. Along with him were his mother and the constable that called Amadeus. Splattered on the court and wall of one of the buildings was fifty shades of red.

Amadeus looked at the kid, the constable, then the mother. The kid looked terrified and lost in thought, Amadeus felt a little bad for him. The mother looked furious, Amadeus felt like she was going to be the one trying to make the whole thing about her. The constable looked very business-as-usual.

“What’s the story officer,” Amadeus asks.

“Wait, now that’s not fair-,” the mother yells before getting cut off.

“I will be getting the story from both of these two and I will go from there. Understood,” Amadeus asks.

The mother reluctantly nods and Amadeus looks back at the constable. The constable was an average height, average bulk mid-forties black man. The hair in his baseball cap is just starting to show signs of graying. He had a deep and smooth voice.

“I got a call from some boy, come to find out it was this’n right here,” he motions to the kid, “He told me, ‘I shot a couple boys, they’s was attackin me but I shot them’. So I came on down, talked to him, talked to his ma, and then called you.”

Amadeus nods, “What about you,” he says to the kid.

The kid takes a deep and shaky breath before answering, “I was here just hangin out-”

“Don’t lie,” Amadeus interrupts, “what were you doing here?”

“I…,” he looks at his mom then looks back at Amadeus, “I was smoking.”

“Smoking…”

“Devil grass as my mom calls it.”

The mother looks shocked and furious as he says this.

“Nothing legally wrong with that. Morally? That’s up to your parents to decide,” Amadeus tells him.

The kid continues, “Then these two guys, seventeen or eighteen I’d say, come up to me,” Amadeus looks at the constable, and the constable nods, no lies yet, “they told me to give them what I had. I didn’t wanna do that because I had a solid hundred or so dollars worth of stuff. So I said no. The one guy went, ‘we wasn’t askin’, and the other pulled out a knife. I told them to eff off and the one with the knife tackled me. So...I drew the pistol I was holding and…”

Amadeus nodded, “thank you,” he turned to the mother, “well, what do you have to say?”

“My boy couldn’t hurt a soul,” she yells, “He’s just an innocent child you know! And if he did...well then it wasn’t on purpose!”

“It was,” the constable says.

“It was,” Amadeus says right after.

“...it was,” the kid admits.

Amadeus could practically hear the mother’s blood pressure rising, “Well then they probably f*cking deserved it!”

“Also true,” the kid says.

Amadeus stands in silence for a moment before talking again, “you three stay here. I’m gonna...I’m gonna go think for a moment.”

Amadeus leaves the court and returns to his truck. He gets in the passenger side and sits for a moment, trying to decide what to do with the kid. He believed the story, but he might have to have someone investigate it just to be sure. Amadeus could not have civil unrest at a time like this. That is when a deep, soothing, powerful voice crept into his head.

I can show you the truth, Amadeus.

Amadeus is hitten with a powerful surge of fear. The voice was similar in the way it spoke to the Mirror. But the voice itself sounded different and it felt…...evil. The bad voice, he thought.

You think I’m bad? So quick to judge a soul you have yet to encounter?

I don’t even know what you are. Amadeus was quickly getting used to this whole head-talking thing.

Ah, well allow me to introduce myself. I am Deschaine, son of Beatleguise.

Amadeus almost laughs out loud at the name of Deschaine’s father which bore a striking resemblance to the name of the title character in one of the remaining not-yet-banned old Halloween films, Beetlejuice.

I see you find my father’s name funny. You understand how rude that is, yes?

What’re you going to do about it Casper?

...With time, you will see. I look forward to when we can speak again, Amadeus, but something tells me you must get going.

Amadeus didn’t know what he meant by tha- the speech. Amadeus looks at the time and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees he still has time...as long as he’s quick. Amadeu bursts out of the truck and runs back to the crime scene.

“Let the kid go. If he causes any more trouble we’ll lock him up,” Amadeus says. He runs off before anyone can respond. He gets back in his truck, turns it on, and begins heading to his destination.

4

Jack lay beside Anne-marie, they were both fast asleep. They would sleep until after Amadeus’ speech tonight. The reason for this was that they had spent the night prior growing closer and closer to each other by the minute. Jack was beyond head-over-heels, he was even dreaming of her at this point.

Even right now, as we join him in his slumber, he dreamt of Anne-Marie. They sat in a beautiful park (which, unbeknownst to him, was the same one that Amadeus was visited by the faceless man) on the ground under a massive oak tree. It was her and him, except they looked slightly older. With them was a child, no more than five or six. They were having a picnic. As they talked and laughed, Jack noticed a ring on his and Anne-Marie’s hands.

Could this be real? A peek into his future influenced by the magic of the nearby Mirror? Jack hoped so. It was the most vivid dream he’d ever had, the most awake he’d ever felt during one. The one odd thing was Jack couldn’t for sure understand a single thing anyone said, but that was fine. The very concept of what was happening was enough to make Jack happier than...well, then he’d ever been.

But then it changed. He noticed in the distance things beginning to become black. All black. It grew closer...and closer. A horrible existential fear took over Jack’s mind as it came closer. It consumed the park, the tree, his daughter, Anne-Marie, and the ground below him. He was now sitting on a floor of all black, in an oblivion of the same variety. A sadness greater than he had ever felt entered him. Tears ran down his face as he screamed out in emotional pain. He yelled a variety of colorful phrases to the abyss, some much more profane than others.

Then he heard the voice. In the dream, Deschaine was able to properly manifest himself, even properly ‘speak’ to Jack.

“Jack,” the voice said.

Jack looked up into the eternal blackness, “wha-...who…?”

“How it pains me to see you in this state Jack,” the voice responds.

Jack lets out some confused and horrified grunts among other noises.

“How rude of me...allow me to introduce myself.”

In front of Jack, he sees a small tear form in the black. In it was a slight hint of dim purple light. He looked closely at it, trying to figure out what it was. As he analyzed the tear, a green, slimy tentacle came out of it. From inside the tear it flops on the ground, Jack stares at it in pure shock and horror. Another comes out of the tear, widening it. Another...and another...and another. Tentacles continue coming from the tear until it has become a Lovecraftian circle of terror. Jack counts twelve tentacles all pointing in separate directions, flowing, moving like limbs in the air. A large reptilian eye opens in the middle of them all, staring straight at Jack.

“This is a...simplified version of my form, for I cannot fully enter here,” Deschaine tells him.

“What...the h*ll are you?”

“I am Deschaine. I come from the abyss between Heaven and Hell. I possess an item, similar to the Mirror you and your friends have locked away.”

“How do you know the Mirror? How do you know about it?”

“That matters not Jack. I simply want to help you prevent what you saw here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You watched your Anne-Marie die. Along with the future you could have. The item I currently reside in can make sure you two are together forever, you simply must swear your soul to me.”

One of the tentacles stretches out to Jack.

“Just shake my...tentacle.”

“...Why would you want to help me?”

“Oh Jack, the small, simple mind cannot comprehend the intentions and motivations of an advanced soul such as yours truly.”

Jack thinks for a moment.

“No,” he says, “no, if you are going to hide your intentions from me, then no deal.”

The tentacle falls back to the ground.

“Well then,” Deschaine says, “then you will deal with what is soon to come. Now, be returned to your pathetic, mortal life.”

It felt as though the floor fell out from Jack. He fell and watched as the tentacally monster that was just part of Deschaine got further and further away.

Then he awoke.

5

Amanda walked out of Joel’s house immediately knowing to just give up. She could feel it in her soul, Joel was gone. It ached, it hurt so very much, but she had to accept it.

Billy looked at her with nothing but sympathy in his eyes. He could feel it too, even though Billy had never met Joel, he could feel it. The man engraved on the holster on his hip would have called it “ka-shume”, the breaking of one's ka-tet by death. He felt a great sadness on behalf of Amanda. Any attraction he had for her was put aside for now, for she was in a state of grief that Billy knew all too well.

Amanda had lost more than a fellow soldier, or even just a brother in arms. She had lost the closest friend she had in the Desperado, one she saw as a brother.

“Do you feel it,” Amanda asked him.

Billy nodded, “what now,” he asked.

“I...I’m going home. I’m going to gather my thoughts and...and watch Am’s speech. For now, that’s all there is to do.”

“Okay,” Billy said, “I think I’m gonna do the same. I’ll see you later Amanda.”

Billy begins to walk away but she stops him by yelling for him.

“Billy,” she yells, “you wanna join me?”

Billy agrees and they go to Amanda’s house, together.

6

Amadeus stood in the studio behind the cameras. He was asked to dress for the occasion, but he - out of pure pettiness - dressed as casually as he could. In front of the camera was the set itself. The large desk with three seats behind it, two for the hosts and one for the guest, sat in front of a screen that displayed whatever was relevant for the story being covered. Then there were the two reporters, one man with average-length brown hair and no facial hair to speak of. Then the woman; long, slightly messy hair that was a very light brown. She was tall and he was short. Their names were Kyle and Sarah.

They were currently on a commercial break, but that would end...now.

“Welcome back,” Kyle said, “right now, we have an exclusive interview with none other than Amadeus Wright, leader of the rebel group known as the Desperado Undead, the ones supposedly responsible for the assassinations of Judicators Chenglei and both Garrisons.”

Both Garrisons? What the h*ll is he talking about- oh my God Joel. The dots connect in Amadeus’ mind as he approaches the set. Joel probably went after Garrison and died after killing him. Why would he do it? God only knew.

Amadeus sat down at the desk beside Sarah.

“So, Amadeus,” Sarah says, “You said you are willing to make peace.”

“Yes,” Amadeus responds, “on one condition.”

Both reporters roll their eyes.

“I simply want basic human rights returned to the public,” he says.

“Give us one good example of how the NWO takes away rights,” Kyle asks confrontationally.

“Well, how come the average, mentally healthy citizen cannot own a firearm?”

Sarah laughed before responding, “because they’re highly dangerous! They kill hundreds a day, they used to at least!”

Amadeus takes a deep breath, “So what? We must abandon our rights so that we can live in a more comfortable society? What kind of life would you rather live, one of overcontrol and comfort, or one of pure freedom with a bit of danger here and there?”

Amadeus stands up, “If complacency was crowned our king in the place of burning zeal, why is it then the flame within our hearts refuse to yield, could it be collectively the ‘we’ we were before still lives within the flame that’s dimmed on account of something more? And if that something were to call would we recognize at all the voice inside or would our pride distort what it speaks. ‘Abandon hope who enter here; no eyes to see, no ears to hear; a chasing after all the winds of fortune, fame, and glory.’ I saw this quote regarding the NWO spray-painted onto a wall while I was forming the Desperado, and I’ve never read anything more true.”

Everyone in the crowd looks at him in shock. The reporters look annoyed.

“Why do I give a sh*t where people stand? I know I should just let it go but I can’t. Knowing there are people out there that support the NWO and their tyranny...it infuriates me. I can’t stomach these pretenders...these...these ear benders. They bend the truth until it suits their agenda better. This is a time to love...a time to hate. A time to build, a time to break. A time to weep and a time to laugh. It’s a time to mourn and a time to dance; a time for war and a time for peace. A time for silence, a time to speak. A time to hurt...a time to heal. A time to save, and a time to kill.”

Amadeus looks into the camera, “to the Desperado, pick yourself up off the floor and fulfill what I’ve built you for. I’ve called you out from all the world to lead the rebellion, now take my hand and make your stand against the evil ones, and burn the NWO down!”

Kyle slams his hands on the desk, “You said this was going to be a discussion of peace!”

Amadeus turns over and charges up to Kyle and gets face-to-face with him.

“Do you think that this is what I wanted?! Do you think this is what I had planned out for my life?! To be set on all sides by violence and suffering,” Amadeus backs away from Kyle, “I never asked to be chosen, and I never wanted any of this! Not a single second goes by where I don’t think about my daughter, or my unborn son, or the life I left behind. Nor am I blind to the suffering that she would endure at the hands of my enemies for the sins of her father. But I can’t help to think of the men, and the women and children bedding down in the slums tonight. Huddled behind locked doors, searching for nothing but refuge from the venomous villainy that would seek to devour the blood of their innocence whilst the powers that be cower behind their legislation and the litigation whilst paying homage to a temple of currency, founded on corruption and greed!”

Amadeus turns back to the crowd, “I can be that man! I can carry that cross and I can lead these men, I can bang the drums of war, and bring the temple crashing down upon their heads! This is so much more than me, this is about more than what I want, or what any one man could want. This is bigger than my family. This is about the preservation of life and liberty, and there could be nothing more important. If the Desperado loses, which I am very aware we could, history would remember me as a revolutionary of madness. A titan, h*llbent on the bloodshed of his people.”

Amadeus looks back at the reporters, at the crowd, and finally into the camera.

“But I know what I’m fighting for.”

Amadeus gives Kyle and Sarah the finger before walking off set.

7

He walked out of the studio and back to his car. He got into his car and took a deep breath. That might have been his best speech yet, he would have to reflect on it on the way home. He turned on the car and that’s when his phone rang.

Amadeus grabbed his phone from his pocket and saw it was Jack. So help me God Jack be very careful with your first words. He answered the phone.

“Talk to me Jack,” Amadeus says.

“Phenomenal speech Am! You got a minute to talk?”

“Uh...can it wait ‘till I get back?”

“...Probably yeah.”

“Mkay, talk to you then, Jack”

Amadeus hangs up and starts driving.

8

Amadeus didn’t get back to Staria until that night around eight PM. As soon as Amadeus entered the border into Staria, his phone rang. Without looking at it, he picked it up and answered.

“Wassup,” Amadeus says.

“Amadeus,” Jack says, the panic audible in his voice, “We’ve got a problem!”

And that’s when-