11-06-2020, 10:17 PM
[align=center]
[align=center][div style="border: 0px black solid; background-color: #fff; width: 350px; min-height: 100px; overflow: stretch; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 90%; word-spacing: 1px; margin-top: -4px;"]
[color=transparent]---
Little by little, the world that Better Living had constructed was slowly crumbling away with the birth of the revolution. And, little did they realize that all the pieces of what they'd once built up would soon come down on them, piece by piece.
❝ Everything is falling right into place, yeah? ❞ Rowan asked for confirmation and, without hesitation, lips curled into a purposeful grin. From all of the intel that the rebels had gathered over the months, their plans worked like clockwork. Better Living was nearly as robotic as the people they’d brainwashed, their eerie routine of transport so meticulous that Benedict could correctly guess the location of any reaping truck in the near vicinity of the city. The reapers would drive right up to their subsequent doom with little retaliation before the rebels could neutralise them. It was human nature to predict patterns, something which no robot with a faulty code could ever pick up on.
❝ Oh, as always. ❞ Benedict confirmed eagerly, soon grabbing onto Rowan’s shoulder and stepping aside with him. There weren’t many people that Benedict would choose to place his trust in — hell, this was barely a sign of trust — but Rowan was certainly one of the most reliable men Ben had ever had the fortune of knowing. Perhaps it came from their background, the mere fact that Benedict had known Rowan for years prior. The Sullivan boys, the young orphans who barely made ends meet at the end of the street. Lisbit was always so kind as to offer her help when she could, and the young Benedict would merely watch upon the conversation as the older Sullivan would kindly decline most help. They were all right on their own, he’d say. They could manage.
Rowan was always the more resilient one of the two.
❝ I need you to film something for me. You got your phone on you? ❞ He slowed the pair to a stop, Ben revealing his own mobile phone before showing Rowan the text message from Gage. ❝ Film the attack when it happens, send it to Gage, and look at what he’s going to do. ❞ A proud smile sat on his lips as he envisaged the looks on the government officials’ faces once they saw the video streamed across the media. Ben wanted to be known. He wanted the city to know that he truly meant business.
Head lifted as he heard a man call in the crowd, ❝ We got half an hour! Still gotta barricade the road! ❞ Benedict looked over his shoulder towards an approaching rebel, eyes darting across his face before he called, ❝ Lets go! I got space in the pickup! ❞ Ben turned back to look towards Rowan, then adding, ❝ Get in the passenger seat. ❞ And, with that, he began to stride with triumph towards his pickup truck as everyone prepared for the takedown.
❝ That’s them. ❞ He whispered. Silence lingered in the air. ❝ Here they are. Everyone get ready! ❞ Behind the barricade, Ben stood with a flag by his side, a clear sign of what side they were on. The reaping truck approached the barricades, soon sputtering to a stop several feet away. This confrontation could go any way, but Benedict knew for certain that he wasn’t here to purposefully harm any of the reapers. If they were to initiate with hostility, then the rebels would fight back - otherwise, this confrontation could go down as smoothly as Ben would have wished for. He wasn’t here for the reapers’ throats; he was here for their supplies.
Eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly as he watched the two reapers in the truck deliberating before Ben nodded towards the truck, ❝ Surround them. ❞ The rebels barely hesitated before they encircled the vehicle, makeshift weapons and armour in hands, as Benedict slowly leant the flag against the barricade. ❝ Hey Row, ❞ Ben hummed as he pulled the dark gaiter up over his nose as he peered over towards the other man. ❝ Get this on camera. ❞ Eyes dazzled with a look of triumph as Rowan began to film, stepping into the camera before he spoke into it, ❝ Better Living. How’s this for being the change we wanna see? ❞ He nodded towards Rowan to follow before he strode over towards the driver side of the truck. ❝ Someone get ‘em out the vehicle, yeah? ❞
He watched determinedly as the reapers were dragged out of the truck, choosing not to retaliate with their weapons. Wise choice. Face to face with the driver, Benedict raised his brows before he said, ❝ You best get running. It’s a long way from home. ❞ He spared the man no time before grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him away from the truck, the reaper stumbling before looking back at the rebels briefly. Once the other reaper was at the driver’s side, the two of them began to run away, Ben slowly shaking his head. ❝ Pathetic… So… Let's get to it. ❞
With little more than a wave of a hand, uproarious rebels began to chant and cheer boisterously as they returned to the barricades, soon to return with cans of ethanol. Benedict began to step back as they doused the vehicle in the pungent liquid, a slow laugh passing his lips with joy. It was another success on their part, and a monumental one at that. They didn't even have to harm anyone to get to their goal. Slowly, he dipped his hand into his pocket, soon pulling out a box of matches. Matches - hard to come by these days but this success was worth lighting a match for. Scratching the end against the pack, the match hissed to life, the rebels all backing away as Ben allowed the anticipation to linger for a couple of seconds. A deep inhale. A deep exhale. And then, he flicked the match onto the driver's seat.
The truck combusted to the sound of the rebels' cheer, Benedict taking a small step back before watching in all of the glory. It was a beautiful sight to see; watching their world slowly crash and burn. In the flames would rise a better life, one of truth and liberation. It would be a life where dad would no longer be enslaved by a happy pill. A life where Benedict would be reunited with Wells. A life where society may no longer seek perfection but instead relish in the flaws of autonomy.
Nostrils flared as the heat of the flames burnt at his skin, and then Ben pointed back towards their own vehicles. ❝ Let's get outta here. ❞ As Rowan finally lowered the phone, Benedict removed his gaiter before he looked towards the other man with a look of pride riddled across his face. As they made their way back towards the pickup truck, Ben said, ❝ I don't care how long it takes, how many trucks we have to burn or how many fights we have to fight; we will win. I can just... God, I can just feel it! ❞
He grabbed Rowan's shoulder as he walked, squeezing it proudly before nudging him away and climbing into the driver's seat of his pickup.
u rock !
[color=transparent]---
Little by little, the world that Better Living had constructed was slowly crumbling away with the birth of the revolution. And, little did they realize that all the pieces of what they'd once built up would soon come down on them, piece by piece.
❝ Everything is falling right into place, yeah? ❞ Rowan asked for confirmation and, without hesitation, lips curled into a purposeful grin. From all of the intel that the rebels had gathered over the months, their plans worked like clockwork. Better Living was nearly as robotic as the people they’d brainwashed, their eerie routine of transport so meticulous that Benedict could correctly guess the location of any reaping truck in the near vicinity of the city. The reapers would drive right up to their subsequent doom with little retaliation before the rebels could neutralise them. It was human nature to predict patterns, something which no robot with a faulty code could ever pick up on.
❝ Oh, as always. ❞ Benedict confirmed eagerly, soon grabbing onto Rowan’s shoulder and stepping aside with him. There weren’t many people that Benedict would choose to place his trust in — hell, this was barely a sign of trust — but Rowan was certainly one of the most reliable men Ben had ever had the fortune of knowing. Perhaps it came from their background, the mere fact that Benedict had known Rowan for years prior. The Sullivan boys, the young orphans who barely made ends meet at the end of the street. Lisbit was always so kind as to offer her help when she could, and the young Benedict would merely watch upon the conversation as the older Sullivan would kindly decline most help. They were all right on their own, he’d say. They could manage.
Rowan was always the more resilient one of the two.
❝ I need you to film something for me. You got your phone on you? ❞ He slowed the pair to a stop, Ben revealing his own mobile phone before showing Rowan the text message from Gage. ❝ Film the attack when it happens, send it to Gage, and look at what he’s going to do. ❞ A proud smile sat on his lips as he envisaged the looks on the government officials’ faces once they saw the video streamed across the media. Ben wanted to be known. He wanted the city to know that he truly meant business.
Head lifted as he heard a man call in the crowd, ❝ We got half an hour! Still gotta barricade the road! ❞ Benedict looked over his shoulder towards an approaching rebel, eyes darting across his face before he called, ❝ Lets go! I got space in the pickup! ❞ Ben turned back to look towards Rowan, then adding, ❝ Get in the passenger seat. ❞ And, with that, he began to stride with triumph towards his pickup truck as everyone prepared for the takedown.
❝ That’s them. ❞ He whispered. Silence lingered in the air. ❝ Here they are. Everyone get ready! ❞ Behind the barricade, Ben stood with a flag by his side, a clear sign of what side they were on. The reaping truck approached the barricades, soon sputtering to a stop several feet away. This confrontation could go any way, but Benedict knew for certain that he wasn’t here to purposefully harm any of the reapers. If they were to initiate with hostility, then the rebels would fight back - otherwise, this confrontation could go down as smoothly as Ben would have wished for. He wasn’t here for the reapers’ throats; he was here for their supplies.
Eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly as he watched the two reapers in the truck deliberating before Ben nodded towards the truck, ❝ Surround them. ❞ The rebels barely hesitated before they encircled the vehicle, makeshift weapons and armour in hands, as Benedict slowly leant the flag against the barricade. ❝ Hey Row, ❞ Ben hummed as he pulled the dark gaiter up over his nose as he peered over towards the other man. ❝ Get this on camera. ❞ Eyes dazzled with a look of triumph as Rowan began to film, stepping into the camera before he spoke into it, ❝ Better Living. How’s this for being the change we wanna see? ❞ He nodded towards Rowan to follow before he strode over towards the driver side of the truck. ❝ Someone get ‘em out the vehicle, yeah? ❞
He watched determinedly as the reapers were dragged out of the truck, choosing not to retaliate with their weapons. Wise choice. Face to face with the driver, Benedict raised his brows before he said, ❝ You best get running. It’s a long way from home. ❞ He spared the man no time before grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him away from the truck, the reaper stumbling before looking back at the rebels briefly. Once the other reaper was at the driver’s side, the two of them began to run away, Ben slowly shaking his head. ❝ Pathetic… So… Let's get to it. ❞
With little more than a wave of a hand, uproarious rebels began to chant and cheer boisterously as they returned to the barricades, soon to return with cans of ethanol. Benedict began to step back as they doused the vehicle in the pungent liquid, a slow laugh passing his lips with joy. It was another success on their part, and a monumental one at that. They didn't even have to harm anyone to get to their goal. Slowly, he dipped his hand into his pocket, soon pulling out a box of matches. Matches - hard to come by these days but this success was worth lighting a match for. Scratching the end against the pack, the match hissed to life, the rebels all backing away as Ben allowed the anticipation to linger for a couple of seconds. A deep inhale. A deep exhale. And then, he flicked the match onto the driver's seat.
The truck combusted to the sound of the rebels' cheer, Benedict taking a small step back before watching in all of the glory. It was a beautiful sight to see; watching their world slowly crash and burn. In the flames would rise a better life, one of truth and liberation. It would be a life where dad would no longer be enslaved by a happy pill. A life where Benedict would be reunited with Wells. A life where society may no longer seek perfection but instead relish in the flaws of autonomy.
Nostrils flared as the heat of the flames burnt at his skin, and then Ben pointed back towards their own vehicles. ❝ Let's get outta here. ❞ As Rowan finally lowered the phone, Benedict removed his gaiter before he looked towards the other man with a look of pride riddled across his face. As they made their way back towards the pickup truck, Ben said, ❝ I don't care how long it takes, how many trucks we have to burn or how many fights we have to fight; we will win. I can just... God, I can just feel it! ❞
He grabbed Rowan's shoulder as he walked, squeezing it proudly before nudging him away and climbing into the driver's seat of his pickup.
[align=center]
I'M BURNING BRIDGES, I DESTROY THE MIRAGE
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 5pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.6px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]ALL VISIONS OF COLLISIONS, FUCKING BON VOYAGE — truce.#1303
《 WRITING &. PINTEREST &. SPOTIFY 》
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 5pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.6px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]ALL VISIONS OF COLLISIONS, FUCKING BON VOYAGE — truce.#1303
《 WRITING &. PINTEREST &. SPOTIFY 》