The Demolition Dilemma

The Prompt ▼

Write a poem or story in which the hero is just foiling the villain's "evil" plan. (This can be anything from trivial, e.g. stealing puppies, to James-Bond-catastrophic.)
Write the first part of your piece from the hero's point of view, showing why the hero has worked so hard to stop the villain.
Write the second part covering the same scene, now from the villain's POV, showing why the villain's goals are (to the villain at least) laudable -- for what sympathetic reason did the villain concoct the scheme the hero has just foiled?
Due August 5th, 2022

Project Manager Kort Shields waved to the backhoe driver to start the demolition of the old house. The machine revved up, then coughed, smoked, and sputtered to a stop.

"What the hell?" Kort strode up to the machine as the driver got out, scratching his head. "What's up, Jake?"

"Damned if I know. She ran fine last night." Jake sniffed the air suspiciously, then opened the gas cap and sniffed again. "Ah, crap. Smell that, boss. Some f***er put bleach in the tank. Gotta pump it out and refill it, flush the fuel system."

Kort swore. This was the third act of sabotage on the site, and the security guard was useless. He phoned his fuel agent to have the tank cleaned. More delays. More cost over-runs. His next call was to the developer, Lorne Destin, to report the latest events.

"Look, Kort, I don't want excuses," Lorne snarled. "I want progress. I want the job back on budget and on schedule. Now you find this guy, this saboteur, and you plant your boot so far up his ass that he spits teeth. And if you can't do that maybe I need a different project manager." He hung up before Kort could even respond.

Somebody didn't want this demolition, Kort thought. But why? It was just a run-down, unoccupied house. One of the oldest buildings in the neighbourhood, but nothing special, being removed for a new low-rise multi-concept with shops, apartments, a play-school, and a green-space courtyard. Urban re-development at its finest.

###

At the sound of the backhoe firing up again, he looked up from his clipboard where he'd been rescheduling some sub-trades. The machine lumbered up to the old house, and Jake raised the bucket to begin tearing down the wall. There was a huge bang and the bucket swung free and swayed loosely. Now what?

Jake climbed down from the cab and stared up at the bucket, swearing a blue streak that Kort could hear clearly as he ran over from the HQ trailer. "Broken? Really?" he panted as he came up.

"See the chain? I didn't spot it until too late. Bent the hydraulics all to hell, ripped the cylinder right off. Take a day to fix."

Kort added his own foul words to the mix and phoned to rent another machine...which turned out not to be available until the next day, so he gave Jake the day off. Then he phoned the security outfit to cancel the night guard. He would do the job himself.

# # #

Cheryl flipped up her hood and scanned the construction site. Although the yard was brightly lit, her dark clothing blended into the shadows left by heavy equipment, construction trailers, and piles of supplies. She climbed over the chain link fence in a dark corner and slithered into a trench dug for future plumbing lines.

How dare they destroy her home, tear down all that was left of her childhood, her happiness, her memories! Besides, it was the oldest house in that part of town. Cheryl had filed a petition to have it declared a historic site, but the idiots at the Urban Planning Commission had decided it was "of no historical or architectural significance". Bastards.

Sabotaging construction equipment had given her an extra week. She'd hired a lawyer--with the last of her savings!--to intervene with the developer and the UPC, but that only made the lawyer richer and her poorer.

She planned one last defiant move in the early morning hours before construction resumed. She would chain herself to the front of her house. She'd alerted the local media so she could tell the world--especially the cold, uncaring developer, the ignorant construction crew, the people of the city--how wrong it was to destroy this beautiful old building.

She crept over to the pile of chains, grabbed the hook end of one, and pulled. Cursing the clinks and clanks, she lugged the heavy thing through the back door of her old home. The doors were open, some of the windows broken. As she passed her old bedroom, she teared up, remembering the happy days before her parents and sisters were killed, before she was uprooted into foster care.

She stepped out onto the front porch, and was dazzled by the arc lights.

"Hey, you. What the f*** do you think you're doing?"

Good grief! She almost fainted. A man was standing on the ground glaring up at her. Good-looking in a rough sort of way. He was holding some large red tool down by his leg.

She took a deep breath and passed one end of the chain around a post on the porch. "I'm stopping that cold-hearted developer from destroying a beautiful old house. I'm stopping you from destroying my home. I'm chaining myself here to make a statement. The media will be here soon." The padlock closed through the links with a sharp snap.

Kort studied the woman on the porch.. Her hoodie had fallen back, revealing a riot of red curls surrounding a pale face with wide blue eyes. Maybe mid-twenties. She looked tired and frightened, and he felt a moment's pity.

"Your home?" he asked.

"I lived here as a child. Grew up here. Was happy here. It's all that's left. My family is gone."

Flashing red and blue lights reflected off the old clapboards.

"I called the police when I saw you sneaking through the yard earlier, dragging that chain. You're trespassing, and you've damaged equipment and endangered my driver's life. I don't think saving your home can justify what you've done. But perhaps I understand. A home can mean a lot."

Their eyes met and held while a policeman took the bolt cutters from Kort, cut the chain, and cuffed her. She looked defiantly over her shoulder as she was led to the waiting car, and he tracked her gaze until the door closed. A TV van had pulled up and her arrest had been taped.

The case was solved, the project would proceed. But Kort suspected that the story was just beginning.