A New Dawn: Prologue

The protest had entered its fourth month, but still we persevered. Rain had chilled our bones, made us sick, and choked our voice, but still we persevered. The police had unloaded stun guns, pepper spray, batons, and every other method of illegal-but-maskable offenses that it had in its arsenal, but our cause was just; we persevered. Much to our shock, our little hundred man movement had rapidly gained regional support, then national support... and now people were decrying governments in the name of Project Dawn all over the world. We persevered.

Four months of peaceful protest, shattered by a single gunshot. For about thirty seconds, no one knew who had fired, if the bullet had hit anyone, or if so, who. A lot of the police looked as horrified as we did. Silence replaced an impassioned speech that had been taking place on the podium... For a moment, I foolishly believed it was due to the event of the gunshot... None of us could believe that someone would actually shoot Helen.

Time froze, and all eyes were on the leader of our movement. Her white blouse, slightly hidden by a black overcoat, blossomed red. She fell in slow motion, falling seemingly in sync with the rain. Gasps rose all around me... And then even those stopped. Her long blond hair played against the wind, reaching for the sky as her body reached for the ground. With a dull thud, she lay peacefully against the wood of the podium, blood slowly pooling beneath her.

All eyes turned to him. I thought he’d be as shocked as the rest of us. I thought I’d see fear, anxiety, shock, something on his face. I was wrong. I saw red. I saw rage. I saw fury. His neck, riddled with archaic tattoos, pulsed with adrenaline. The fury in his eyes seemed to be a palpable force; it seemed out of place among the calm blue eyes that formed it. Then... I wasn’t scared any more. I wasn’t shocked. I wasn’t anxious. I was angry, too.

Litany had been holding a bottle of beer. I don’t remember him slamming it against the podium; I just remember it suddenly ending in a jagged line of broken glass and angry edge. I could feel the rage billowing up around me. I drank it in; it was delicious. It was empowering. It was... intoxicating. Someone tore the paper off the wooden stake it had been stapled to, and held it like a club. I remembered the knife on my belt, and withdrew it.

Four long months we had persevered. Four long months, we had struggled in peaceful protest. It was almost a relief to finally have an outlet for the anger. We surged against the police as one, Litany at our head. The stunned police officer who had fired the shot at Helen gripped the pistol tight,as other members of the police force drew out their sidearms, albeit slightly too late. Four months of peaceful protest ended in five minutes. Twelve dead cops, four dead protesters, and Helen remained in the square where the riot began... Once the rage started, though, it was impossible to stop. The dam had broken. Someone picked up a brick, and launched it at the nearby bank we had been protesting outside of. The window smashed; we surged forward. Revolution had begun.