Recession: Priest

A priest of glory attempts to get over his bout of depression by taking a trip to the slums. In his trip he attempts to take pride and ridicule those less fortunate than him. Tamer than the others

The world was overflowing with filth, the same filth that complained of its own existence, not intelligent enough to come to the logical conclusion that they themselves were the problem. Their stench is slowly beginning to suffocate them and in their final moments instead of cleaning up themselves they look on at one another, ashamed of their cohorts. Its time they were finally cleaned up for good.

            I’ve been a priest for quite some time, and on days like when things seemed hard it helped to take a step outside of Glory, to see what it was like to be dirty and unenlightened. Their strife and suffering was beautiful to watch. However, every time I step out I am left questioning why I decided to be a priest in the first place. I understood that the idea was not to help anyone, after all the whole spiel about cleaning up implied indoctrination at best and murder at worse. But even then that would be something, instead we take people one by one and just torture them. I don’t particularly care, but, what’s the point? Why waste my time methodically battering and mutilating others when instead we could be doing so much more; what exactly I do not know, but anything but this. So I leave, leave hoping to convince myself their suffering is worth it.

            A short distance away lie Saint Duma, a small, decrepit, and evil little city. There existed no such thing as crime, after all, in order for something to be a crime there must be an opposing law being enforced. There no longer existed law, there no longer existed enforcement. Instead, just degenerates getting over in any way possible. It was always dangerous to travel there, at first, however nobody really messed with anyone from Glory, they were quite scared of what would happen to them in the end. We are capable of much more than just killing others after all. Since I had become a priest it would be my first time there in a while. However when I had gotten there things were much different.

            I suppose it was my garb that had given me away, the streets, though usually filled with rats of children stealing and fighting and poor men littering the sidewalk had yielded only onlookers. Most of them watched, few tried to act as though they didn’t notice me, forcing bland and uninteresting conversation. Others tried pushing past the onlookers attempting to flee the scene. They were much more afraid than I had imagined, it was quite satisfying. I could enjoy living in such a world, it made me feel much larger than I was. Of course, I truly did have power, but not as an individual; only as one of many was I strong. In an attempt to push just how scared of me they were I had decided to loiter more populated areas, being a slum of filth there weren’t too many areas I could go to short of an apartment complex or a park repurposed as a shantytown. Everywhere I went they cowered, rightly so considering I was above them.

            After a while I was left with a feeling of dread however, I came to feel justified for our antagonizing, yet here I was one man bringing hundreds to their knees. They didn’t know how strong I was, they didn’t even know my name, for all they knew I could just be any old fool in a costumes. But they were still afraid, why? These people were nothing, insignificant, yet we terrorize them. They represented no threat, they didn’t even so much as attempt to offend. They just cowered in fear of what we might do. And these were the type of people who were our enemy. Not even the scummiest people alive with nothing left to live for even considered attacking me, yet I were to feel as though I was in the right? Still there was one last location, one more place where I could go to exercise my strength and see just how powerful I was.

In the heart of the town lived the strongest of them all, not one but many gangs, no one gang owned Duma, but it was alike a meeting ground, a neutral area. They met with each other to talk about agreements, and when they couldn’t agree on anything they’d take that as the first sight of a dawning gang war. They would trade, and even setup agreements, working together to ultimately turn up a much larger profit that no one of them could have turned alone. It was almost beautiful, watching these wild beasts go tame, but not today. All gangs shared a common enemy; myself. The Mass of Glory was something nobody liked yet nobody messed with. So I was curious to see just what they would do, their hatred for us was unmatched by anything else in the world and then suddenly someone they could finally unleash their anger onto. Someone they could destroy, finally let loose some rage they had pent up for all that we have done onto them. Of course, I couldn’t take them, but I could surely run, my goal wasn’t to kill them, it was to see them for what they were, animals.

I was beyond convinced they would go wild, attempt to rip into me, killing at first sight. But when I had finally me up with them they were morose, they only looked; not a single one speaking a word. I was frustrated, were they too just as weak as the others. Afraid of my power, of my pull? I was being driven to my wits end, so I had spoken, breaking the silence that had been leaving me with a bittersweet sense of satisfaction.

“This is it, is it? The strongest rats, dogs, and assorted beasts all gathered around leaving me at their mercy left quiet like bad children in the company of their parents? Is this what others fear, weak minded individuals with not so much a spine to even speak for themselves? Is this the scariest bunch of criminals around? This group of pathetic puppies and kittens cowering in fear?”

            With that one of the larger ones stepped forth, still as sullen as the others, making sure to keep his distance from myself so as not to offend I suppose. He was quite the scary guy I suppose, well over six feet, dressed entirely in body armor, and covered completely in weaponry. Of all the ones around it was quite evident he was the best equip. He removed his helmet, showing the old and abused face of someone that had seen more than enough battle in his life and had spoken:

“Each and every one of us in here could take you three times over and not even feel the least bit tired. You are weak, pathetic, nothing. Your power comes from your lack of individuality and backup at every corner. Had you been alone you wouldn’t have even made it into the city. You are nothing, we aren’t afraid of you, we are afraid of your friends. Do what you want take what you need, but remember, it isn’t you that’s worth a damn.”

I’d since been thinking to myself, locked in my lonesome. I had always known juts how worthless I was, but I had never actually rationalized with it. I always then told myself now that I have given myself to the greater good I was something, somebody. But, I guess, I had always known my place, my weakness… I am nothing as an individual, I am weak, and maybe for that reason, that logic alone, I had enough of a purpose to stick to the boot of those greater than I, leeching on their power.

Author's Note

as always mention anything, literally anything helps.