Awake the Warrior - Part 1: Chapter 1

Intended as a Graphic Novel.
A War Ravaged civilization controlled by a Megalomaniac Government seeks to build a Utopian Society. Their weapons: Warriors, cyborgs created to destroy humanity... No. Thirty Nine breaks her programming and seeks out civilization trying to find absolution from her past...


Awake the Warrior
Part 1:  Warrior Let loose

Chapter 1

The War is Over

    The PA crackled as the microphone was adjusted, a strong male voice began, 'Two Hundred and Sixty years ago the bloodiest and most horrific World War this planet has ever known began,' the voice was formal, astute even.  It filtered softly across the vast concrete wasteland, a strangely warm voice in a cold unforgiving environment.  'The heartache, grief and suffering have long made us feel like slaves to the past that fueled that war.'
    People, cold and hard from years of starvation, one by one stopped to listen to the echoing words.
    'I come to you now, not just as your Leader but as a fellow in loss, with news of hope…’ his words trailed onwards; a pre-rehearsed speech.
    A storm was rising; ominous clouds blanketed the sky, the wind rose with a fearful whining.  People would die this night; of cold, of hunger… of hopelessness.  The people in the streets stopped, they stared.  Somewhere an indignant old man let loose a wild mad laugh tinged with the bitterness of harsh disbelief.  The PA did not often bring their Leader’s voice to them, so when it did the people listened, and held their breath, and dared to hope that it would give them good news this time.
    ‘We shall all rejoice, knowing that at long last, The War is Over.’  The statement fell like a brick, heavy and hard, so that the people stopped, and turned to look up at the PA, their faces full of shock and wonder.  Someone began to sob. 
    The voice rang clearly across the silence, ‘And now, in the beginning of the year three thousand and five hundred, we will claim the better half of the millennium to create a new world that will surpass all others.  Forty Three years have past since the last human blood was shed; I say it was the last…’
    Sudden cheering interrupted the speaker as the people who had begun to tentatively leave their homes and shelters to collect in the streets, rejoiced at hearing those words.  The war was over.  More people gathered quietly into the streets, so that they too, could hear what their Leader was telling them. 
   
    There was a deathly calm in the streets now with only the insistent howling of the wild wind interrupting the steady, carefully modulated tone of the World Leader’s voice; it echoed through the tall crumbling buildings and poorly concreted streets challenged only by the elements.
    ‘We have lived in fear.  But no more!  We will take back our lives.  We will no longer hide!  The war is over and we Won!’ 

    They had to believe him; the bitter cold broken people; the people who cowered at the sight of snow clouds.  But not this man, he was not afraid of the weather, not their Leader.  He was superior to them in every way and could make their lives better. 
    ‘Now is the time to rebuild with confidence.  We will build for all those who died to make this war a success.  Yes!  We succeeded!  We are free.  Free as no other people have been before us.  Our future will be glorious...’  The voice assured the people. 
    A woman, scruffy and unkempt like her neighbors, bust into tears.  She bowed her head and fell to her knees in the cold muddy slush on the hard street.  Her tangled blond hair fell about her face that she covered with shaking dirty hands.  Gripping her shoulder in grim comfort, a filthy man frowned sternly.  But yet he raised his face silently to the sky, as though for the first time in his life he could look at it without fear.

    'There will be no more waste of human life,' the World Leader promised, 'our numbers are small and each life is precious.  Everyone will have a future.  We will suffer no more poverty.  We will achieve harmony.  Our future will be glorious.  We will achieve equality.  Our future will be wealthy.  We will know freedom from fear.  And our children will never know our suffering.  Our civilization will know wealth in happiness as no other before us has.'  His voice had reached a crescendo of passion and he had to pause to calm himself before continuing, 'we will eat and drink our fill as we have not done for decades.  We are the lucky ones that will make the world a haven’  As the voice died down the people burst into life; they cried out and hugged the stranger next to them, they even dared to smile at each other.  They gripped onto hope firmly with both hands and refused to let go… only a few were cautious.
    A small few, who were more educated than the rest and who knew the histories, maintained their calm.  They hoped, and rejoiced with their fellows, but kept their own reservations.  The people of the world had lived two hundred and sixty years fearing for their friends and family.  They dared not love, lest love be torn from their fragile human hearts.  The war had destroyed all faith in humanity.  The people clung to each other now, hoping against all odds that they could rekindle that closeness.

    ‘Special Services have been trained for this day.  They will be among you soon, to guide and protect.  Everyone will eat a full meal, bathe in clean warm water and sleep safe and sheltered.  Special Services will be among you soon to see to your needs.  Go to them when they call.  Special Services will care for you.’  Their Leader was wrapping up; concluding his speech.
    ‘What of the Warriors?’  A man demanded sharply.  He fronted up to the speaker, glaring at it, expecting an answer, ‘I still fear the Warriors!’ 
    A sudden silence fell over the joy in the people around the man, as they too, became thoughtful.  The fear was contagious.  Suddenly, people remembered the rising storm and feared.
    ‘Yeah!  Where are they!  Will they come for me when I am sleeping?  To tear me apart like I am nothing?’  Another man yelled. 
    The people loosened their friendly closeness; competition and dread once again in their eyes. 
    A woman took up the chant: ‘Where are the Warriors?  Where are the Warriors?’  More and more people joined the chant demanding, terror filled, to know about ones that had so laid their world to waste. 
    The PA crackled as the volume was increased to cover the noise of the people and the whistling wind.
    ‘Two hundred years ago the last Warrior was made.  We proceeded with termination fifty years ago.  The handful of remaining Warriors are strictly controlled.  They are for the safety of you, my people.  I shall protect what we build.  I shall see that we build a glorious haven where we shall all thrive.  And I shall see to it that no one ever sees or hears a Warrior again.’  These were not the carefully scripted words, as spoken before.  The World Leader spoke to them directly.
    The chanting had died down and then completely stopped.  The people conferred quietly with each other.  Some people shook their heads and began to find shelter for the night.  Then a young man, whose trouser leg was missing from the knee down, threw his arms into the air, ‘Praise the Glorious Leader who will provide for us!  Shelter us!  Protect us!  Praise to the Glorious Leader who will never let us see, or hear, a Warrior again!  No more Warriors!  Praise to the Glorious Leader!’  He ran about the milling crowd hugging random people in his ecstasy. 
    The people began to relax again and even cheered the delirious man on with replies of: Praise to the Glorious Leader!  The delirious young man ran through the crowds spreading his fervor; praising the World Leader unrestrained.  He darted like a mad man leaving a wake of cheering.  He rushed through the people until he was able to slip into an old building, away from prying eyes.  He breathed hard; his stunt had cost him dearly.  He doubled over as white waves of unconsciousness tried to claim him; he was starving to death. 
    ‘Where are you!’ he rasped with anger; desperate.
    ‘The storm will not have you… this night.’  A dark voice said smoothly from the shadows.
    ‘Give me what you owe me!’  He raised his bone thin face, his eyes wild with need. 
    In the grey light he stood, as if he had just materialized there, a tall, strong, and fit looking man.  He was clean and held himself proudly, every fiber of his being oozing his self worth.  He reached into the shadows and pulled forth a tattered old pack.  He looked at it with an odd sadness, as if parting with it were difficult, before chucking it with more force than needed at the grimy dying man, ‘much good may it do you,’  he muttered and disappeared back into the shadows. 
    The greedy man caught impact of the bag in the face and was sprawled across the gritty floor.  It took him a few moments to right himself as he struggled with his weakness.  The bag had spilled its contents across the ground; a dozen small paper wrapped packages.  He quickly scrabbled over to them on all fours and stuffed them fervently back into the pack.  He glancing around him urgently to be sure he wasn’t being watched.  He too then backed into the shadows, clutching the bag to his chest.  When he was sure he was out of sight he cautiously, even reverently, dipped his shaking hand into the bag.  Slowly, his breath short and awkward, he withdrew one of the brown paper wrapped items the size of his palm.  He stared at the package for a long time with a look of excited anticipation on his face.  He ripped the package open.  Inside was a close packed substance that looked like brown sugar.  He stuffed it in his face rabidly, like a wild animal, like a starving wild animal that would do anything for food.  Even could betray his own people.

Next Chapter: 2. Escape
http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1262335

A cyborg Warrior awakes after hibernation and is not operating the way Organization programmed her, she seeks freedom and will do whatever it takes to get it...