Chapter One

Chapter One

 

Death has descended over these new lands. Although life blooms, millions of citizens of this country (if you would even call it that…) die daily. The land you know to be the Americas has transcended into a super-nation, ruled by a single radical government claiming equality and truthfully delivering Injustice. Even your world was not this bad. The times before these weren’t this horrid. It was a relatively peaceful time, approximately five hundred years ago. When the first Head of Supreme Action or H.O.S.A laid out the law and the new boundaries they did it in a manner that secured cooperation from North, South and Central America.

They said that, “Times are changing… and so are the nations of this planet. It is to our better knowledge and judgment that war is inevitable, and the only way for us to prevail as a country is for you to trust us.” Little did we know that their radical ways would fail, a fair and equal government wasn’t achievable through the means they intended to use.

There are four thousand different “sectors”.Each one bordered off by an eleven foot tall fence. These fences are topped with razor wire and are electrically charged. Different sectors entitle different jobs and requirements of their people. For instance “Sector 3577”, is a rich southern land primarily occupied by decedents’ of Hispanic ancestors. There sector is required to produce a large contribution of the new worlds fruit and vegetation supply. In return, all of their citizens are promised a steady job with decent pay if there sector can meet the requirement. If not, punishments are enforced on the sectors representative for“failing to comply with obligated duty”.

The government is referred to as the “Ordered Function” or O.F. The O.F consists of four different levels known as “ranks”.The first rank is the biggest and also the lowest paid. Rank-1 consists of one hundred and fifty thousand men and women who have pledged unquestionable loyalty to the O.F. They have jobs such as accountants, public workers, office aids and secretaries to more important people. Rank-2 and Rank-3 work hand in hand. They monitor their fellow citizens and make sure that income and financial problems are taken care of efficient and orderly. Rank-4 is immediately under the Head of Supreme Action. They act as the H.O.S.A’s most lethal enforcers of the law. They are commonly known as the “Agents of Death”.They kill whoever needs to be killed and torture whoever needs to be tortured. All of these employees have agreed to give there life, if need be, to the Ordered Function.

O.F jobs are some of the highest paying in the new world, mainly because of what they ask of there “employees”. There are rumors, nothing more, nothing less, spread throughout the new world that speculates what some of that mystery is. In the midst of the O.F tales are stories of double crossing, murderous, thieving, despicable people doing some of the most unimaginable things. But as I’ve said before, they are rumors. Others, loyal to the government, tell of wonderful reconnaissance missions to lands unexplored by the interior of the new world, with rewards of gold and silver by the ton.

Regardless what either believes, there is only one thing that can save the eight million residents of this land. Hope and faith, that one day things will get better, are the two most powerful forces behind the rebellion. One could not imagine the torcher and pain you would go through if the H.O.S.A found you conspiring against them. That’s why before you can pledge allegiance to the better half of the new world, you must prove you are willing to die for your fellow man, your common man. Not those employed and loyal to the O.F, but those who want the old world back.

In certain, “Tricky” situations, members of the ranks realize the evil there killing for, and in some very rare cases they give up all there information on the O.F’s plan to control the human race known as “The New World Order”. And under even more rare circumstances, do members of Rank-4 change teams. In all actuality, only one man ever has done it, and lived, and that man is a legendary commanding captain and is a fearless leader of the rebellion. That man’s name is Joseph Logs.

Marry Anne Logs and Edger Chancy the 2^nd, Lived in a time of peace and prosperity. After learning about the pregnancy, Edger Chancy, Joseph’s biological father fled to a distant sector and stopped contacting to learn about how his son was doing. Marry Anne worked in the central sector factory as an accountant and rarely made enough to feed her son. It wasn’t because her job paid poorly; she worked in one of the highest paid sectors known. Marry Anne was constantly sick. Physicians could never trace the source of her distress until one day they noticed a growth on her frontal lobe. On Joseph’s 16^th birthday she was diagnosed with stage 4 leukemia, and passed away a few months later at the end of spring.

Joseph Logs quickly learned that the world he was born into was an unfair place where evil prospered. It was after that revelation that Joseph began committing crimes to put food in his mouth. He found that you had to be ruthless and quick to kill, or be killed. And this was certainly a place where the fittest survived. Joseph quickly became an adapt killer and began working for kingpins fighting for control of the different sectors. Joseph found one common thing that he shared with the criminals he worked with. They all hated the government with a burning passion.

Joseph quickly made a reputation for himself as one of the most deadly men in the entire new world. He had done hundreds of jobs and planned to start his own organization. Then one day, seven Rank-4 members raided the warehouse during a meeting and apprehended the entire lot of criminals. Including a man Joseph had come close to, almost close enough to call friend. A man named Munich Slokov, “The Russian Lumberjack”.

Now, Joseph had a reputation even among Rank-4 and the H.O.S.A as an infamous assassin. So you can imagine there surprise when they arrested him without a fight. Shortly later in the central interrogation office, the O.F offered him a job among the Ranks or, the death penalty for conspiring against his own nation. They claimed he was a threat to national security. He was sworn to secrecy and gladly accepted the well-paying job that same day. Over the years he managed to kill thousands of men and women as the order was given. He was never informed why that particular person was wanted dead, and didn’t dare to question his commander. He was merely an Agent of Death.

On some of the calmer levels among the Ranks, where murder wasn’t as common, were the people loathed by the rest of the new world. They were your commonly happy and wealthy citizen. Typically depicted as overweight, ignorant and blind to the treachery they support. Citizens like Alice Knowles.

Alice Knowles lives a quiet life. She works negotiating technological trade with foreign countries and is paid very well for doing so. She owns two dogs, both German Shepard’s (Munch and Chow) and a paid off house in the rich quarters of “Chaplin’s Square”. Ever since she could remember, she preferred the finer luxuries of life. When she was 13 months old, she received her first pair of diamond earrings and when she was 6 years old, the matching necklace.

Alice’s parents, Harry and Virginia Knowles, loved to spoil there only daughter, only Child for that matter. Clothing, jewelry, vehicles, she had seen and owned all of them, but she never let her material possessions change who she was at heart. Alice knew who she was, but didn’t dare share her “true” feelings with anyone she knew, except her parents.

“It’s just too risky mother...” she would plea.“Even if I were to share some of what I know, doing so would put all of our lives in tremendous danger”.

Alice Knowles hated the O.F. She hated the world she lived in. And deep in the depths of her heart was the suppressed feeling of regret for not having the courage to speak out. So she chose to live her life the securely.

Little does she know there are people all around her who feel the same way she felt. There are people who are tired of their present circumstance but too afraid to speak up, tired of suffering; tired of living in fear. Everyone knew the end was drawing close, but no one dare speak of the subject. Otherwise, there families and everything they loved would be put in harm’s way.

Many citizens on the other hand do choose to speak out, typically people from the outlying sectors. Those are the areas not near the capital, and far from an ocean. Those are the areas where poverty and famine are know too well. Areas where killing another man for his bread happens daily, and seeing a man stab his father to death would happen on a street corner. These are the sectors where the new world’s most notorious crime organization started.

Many say, “It’s the only way to ensure a meal...”But there revelation at the end of their life is always the same. “Better to have fought and died, then to not fight at all”.

Munich Slokov was a rather fat (in the nicest sense of the word) man. He was almost 6”2 and looked to be approximately 325 pounds. Munich was 57 and had fought in many wars over his life, leaving him covered in battle scars. His wrinkles didn’t help him look any younger either.

Munich was standing outside of a building built of gray bricks, giving the building the resemblance of a prison. Just above his head was a wooden sign with the letters B A R, in red paint resembling blood, and directly behind him was the entrance. Thunder boomed overhead, and the rain started coming down harder. Munich used the newspaper in his hand to shield his face and balding head from the pelting rain. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure there weren’t any attacker’s on his tail, and then continued through the rusted door of the bar.

The bar fell silent when Munich stepped through the door and stopped. Everyone looked at him with and ugly expression and he shot all of the occupants a particularly evil glare in return.

“What!!” he rasped with a thick Russian accent, sending their heads in every direction in search of anything to look at but the Russian. He was aware he smelled, but he didn’t believe it was bad enough to stop occupied bars chatter.

When he felt his greeting had set the tone he slowly shuffled over to the bar and took a seat next to an old AM radio sitting on the counter next to a few empty mugs. He started changing the station, looking for one in particular; a news station he listened to growing up.

The bartender made his way over to the raged old man and asked in a particularly perky voice, “What will it be”?

“Beer”, Munich managed after he lit a cigarette.“Beer it is”, replied the bartender. Then he walked to the back and made the drink. Munich took a long drag of his cigarette and slowly turned and shot a look at the people currently present. He couldn’t help but think half of them wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. Not with how active the streets had been tonight. “Hell, it was hard for me to get here unscathed. And that’s saying something!!” he thought to himself.

The bartender returned from around the bar with a tall mug and a bowl of half spoiled peanuts and set both on the counter in front of Munich.

“Enjoy”, he said to the Russian.

“Yeah, yeah …” he grumbled back. Then proceeded to take a huge drink of the brew, and fiddle with the knob on the radio trying to narrow in on the signal. He tossed a few coins on the counter, took another drink of his beer and cracked open a few peanuts that looked to be several months old.

The bartender collected the money and looked at Munich with a smile. Munich looked back at the man as if he insulted him with the facial remark. Then he said shakily, “You’re... Short...”

Munich began to stand when the bartender eagerly urged that Munich not make a scene, saying it would be “bad for business”. The bartender insisted to cover the tab, and then started a conversation with Munich in an attempt to ease the atmosphere.

“You know”, the bartender began, “there was an explosion right outside central sector today, killed an awful lot of people”.“Good people, hardworking people…” he finished sadly. The bartender wiped away a small tear that formed on the edge of his eye.

“You had family there?” Munich asked.

“Yeah, a sister and a niece”, replied the bartender blankly, his voice was void of emotion and his face was a twisted into a mask of pain.

“I hope their souls find rest. Do not lose hope”, Munich said sympathetically. It didn’t quite come out sympathetically though; Munich’s beard gave his voice an unnaturally rough tone.”

Just as Munich swallowed the last of the cold beer and thanked the bartender for his services, a man in white carbon fiber alloy armor walked into the bar and stood directly in the middle of everyone. No one dare made a sound. The man’s facial expression was prominent. His facial expression was stern.

On his uniform were emblems of honor and prosperity among the Ranks. On his back, hung a jet black M16 with extremely expensive modifications, making the guns fire power five times that of a standard model. On his right hip, a razor sharp short-sword was snug in a sheath. Rather stiffly, the man retches into the white pouch on his left hip.

Moments later, a small black disc that fit directly in the palm of his hand arose from the pouch. The man in the white suit pressed the small red button that rested on the side of the disc and a white light shot out of the small lens in the center. A pixelated image of a man’s head slowly came into focus and rather later, than sooner, Munich realized what it was the man was holding.

Munich could not see the warrant from the angle he sat; he turned harder and saw what looked like his face. Munich looked a second longer and confirmed it, it was his face. Just then the Rank-4 officer looked over and caught Munich’s gaze. For the single moment they held eye contact the world stood still and everything became silent.

In a booming roar, the man yelled without warning,” Everybody Down!!!”

But by the time the man could draw his sights on Munich, from behind a metal counter top, two desert eagles with rather long clips were pointed at the man identified as a Rank-4. The guns Munich held in his hands were more valuable to him than anything he had every owned.

There were magnificent inscriptions running along the barrel and grip of the guns. Both had clips that could hold 36 rounds, both tips of the guns were coated in 24 karat gold and both guns were aimed easily at two of the chinks in the Rank armor. The bar was silent. No one dare moved from under the tables, and then, without warning, the first shot was fired.

Blood sprayed from the Rank-4’s neck like a punctured water hose, and then his body crashed to the ground uncontrollably spraying two thirds of the bars patrons in the warm red liquid. Munich slowly rose from behind the counter and looked at the limp body blankly.

“Wasn’t me” he grumbled at the shocked crowed, just as Joseph Logs walked through the rusted door of the bar.

“Yeah”, he said with a grin, “I killed that man”.

Joseph Logs stood on the patio of his apartment and watched the rain come down as he often did on stormy nights. His dark complexion made him barely visible in the dark of the night. Joseph stood looking at the sector he called home and wondered to himself. Thinking about how many families had eaten tonight, how many died, how many were tortured. He drew in a long shuddering breath, and then let it out before turning around and walking back into his home.

No one knew where Joseph lived except for a couple of old friends. One of which he knew was dead and the other, well, he didn’t really know what had happened to him. No one visited; no one called him or wrote letters addressed to him. Jo Logs was the living epitome of the world “Lonely”. Deep down inside he longed for human compassion but, in this day and age, all he would receive was a bullet to the skull.

Joseph logs lived a simple life of physical training, studying, and writing music. He was a fairly sophisticated being, and had a great mind. All that held him back as a youth was his hatred for the world he lived in, but he soon realized later on that nothing was fair, and fairy tale endings don’t exist.

Jo shut the patio door and locked all four of the mechanisms used for keeping intruders at bay. He walked down the narrow hallway past the kitchen, past his bedroom and music studio, up to solid titanium vault stretched from floor to ceiling. Jo pressed the numbers “1 4 1 6 9 7 1”,and twisted the wheel in the center of the metal door to the left until it wouldn’t turn anymore. Then he slowly pulled the vault open and white light shot out of the room.

Joseph stepped into the room he called his sanctuary, and peered around at all he had kept over the years of service he gave to the Ranks. His collection of weapons was astonishing. The room was filled with delicate blades made from the thinnest metals, firearms covered in attachment’s, different sorts of explosives and rocket launchers, and boxes stacked to the ceiling with the word fragile printed on the sides. The boxes contained enough supplies and ammunitions to supply a militia.

Joseph slowly walked to the back of the room towards a rile that resembled a number 3 50 caliber Barrett. As he got closer to the weapon, he paid close attention to the details that took him so long to complete when he first started modifying the gun. This was his prized possession. It had a scope with a maximum distance of 1800 yards. A banana clip capable of holding 60 rounds, silencer, and carbon fiber camouflage that changes to its surroundings in the light. Although it resembled a sniper, it certainly wasn’t. This was a weapon Jo designed. It was both fully and semi-automatic. It was made out of the lightest materials known to man and was practically indestructible. It was water proof, fire proof, insulated and very maneuverable. This was the JL24.

It was inscribed in Old English running along the length of the weapon, and there was a dog tag attached to the hilt of the gun.

He slowly pulled the gun off of the wall, and checked the clip for rounds, then returned the clip back into the weapon after seeing that it was fully loaded and ready for warfare. Joseph then made his way toward the front of the vault, where all of his armor was located. He grabbed the carbon fiber flex fit suit that he preferred and slipped it on. He then grabbed the matching helm, his two hundred year old katana’s and his .45 caliber SW1911smith-wesson and headed for the front door of his home.

Jo had made up his mind. He was going out tonight, and he wouldn’t be caught unprepared this time.

Joseph Logs had somewhat of a reputation around his sector as a vigilante, and vigilantes had no place in the new world. At least that’s what the O.F said. Joseph had saved hundreds of thousands of lives and taken even more. He didn’t try and be some super hero, he didn’t seek rewards of wealth and fame. Ideas like such are merely dreams, and nothing more.

Joseph fought to show the Head of Supreme Action that, not everyone was going to roll over and take whatever it was the O.F was promising. Above all else, Jo fought the evil that roams the streets of his sector to give him something to do. After all, what good is a lifetime of training when you can’t put it to use.

Jo walked out into the ally that led to the entrance of his home, then turned around and locked his door with a huge chain and padlock. Although he was sure no one knew that the building was occupied, he wasn’t about to risk it.

He then made his way out of the dark alleyway and crossed a pothole filled rode and made his way to a flight of stairs at the back of an abandonded building. Jo swiftly made his way up the flight of stairs with ease, and peered out over the sector.

The sight was breath taking, something he would never get used to.

In the far distance he could see buildings burning uncontrollably, explosions lit up the night sky like fireworks on Fourth of July, cries for help and blood curling screams howled through the streets. Gun shots rang from every direction and in the far distance Joseph could just make out the ship of a Rank-4, and decided that was his destination.

Joseph climbed down from the building and just as he stepped foot on the ground, gun shots were sent in his direction. Instinctively Jo grabbed his JL24 and slipped in between two metal structures so old, rusted and morphed he could barely identify them as car frames.

The gun shots continued, bouncing off the metal around him. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, and then suddenly he saw a figure in all black and a clown mask peer around the corner of the alley way right in front of Jo’s apartment.

The world slowed down. A rush of heat came over Jo and his face started to burn. Joseph knew what was happening; he had felt this way many times before. Joseph stood up, cool, calm and collected sent a single round at the masked assailant. Blood sprayed from the back of the mask and the man fell face first into a puddle that had formed in a pothole, turning the water crimson red.

Just when Joseph that the battle was over another assailant attacked him from the side his back was turned. The blow caught Joseph off-guard, sending him shuddering backwards, clenching the back of his head where a led pip had caught him. He pulled his hand in front of his helmet, but it took Jo a minute to realize what he was seeing.

It had been a very long time since Joseph Logs had seen his own blood, and the last time he did, he destroyed half of an entire sectors population.

Joseph blacked out, he stood taking in huge gasp of air while staring into his attackers eyes. The man looked back at Jo, bald white head gleaming from the rain. Joseph took and single step forward and the assailant, a step back. Then again, and again; before long Joseph was striding full speed at the man then, without warning, headed at him in a dead sprint.

The man turned around and bolted, afraid for his life, but Joseph already knew; the man would not get away from him alive.

Joseph closed in on the man, both running down the street full speed. The bald headed white man, Joseph realized to be part of the Cobra Crew (a local crime syndicate), looked over his soldier to assess his situation.

In that moment it took him to look back, Jo unsheathed one of the katana’s on his back and decapitated the man, all while running full speed. The body collapsed instantly and Joseph stopped to catch his breath and evaluate his wound. It wasn’t too bad, just a cut. Even so, Jo’s body was immensely full of rage and ready for the night. Joseph sheathed his blade on his back and took off at a spring, once again, towards the ship of the Rank.

The rain started to pick up, just as Joseph came out of a narrow street and faced a gray brick building that he thought, looked almost identical to a prison. He watched the Rank-4 Officer walk into the bar and he quickly followed after him, catching the door before it slammed shut, leaving it just open enough to hear the conversation.

“That sounds like”, Joseph thought aloud, “Munich!”

The last time Jo had seen the Russian Lumberjack they were being arrested together and brought on trial before the H.O.S.A

Joseph heard the confrontation go south real quick.

“Everybody down!!’yelled the Rank sending the crowd scurrying about.

He glanced inside and saw two beautiful dessert eagles searching for a target from behind a metal counter, and the Rank-4 pointing his rifle at the counter while searching for cover.

Without warning the bar’s front door swung open, as Joseph crouched on the other side and in the half a second it took for the Rank-4 Officer to turn his head slightly to the left, a single bullet was sent through his jugular vein covering the place in blood.

Joseph rose from his crouching position with a huge grin on his face.

“Wasn’t me” Munich Slokov grumbled at the shocked crowed, just as Joseph Logs stood straight up and examined his surroundings.

“Yeah”, he said with a grin, “I killed that man”.

Reviews

[Author Rucha Joshi]

Not paying much attention to the small errors, which I think are okay when you write a story (we're writers, not editors)
What grabbed my attention is how detailed you are and that too in your first chapter!
thumbs up!

[The Cracken]

Thanks:) I try and make the reader feel as if they were their like all good writers should when writing a descriptive story.

[Author Rucha Joshi]

That's so cool!

[The Cracken]

This is my first actual chapter based story and is also my first revision of this piece so please don't pay too much attention to the small errors. I hope you enjoy, Please give honest feedback.

[Jared Grace]

Needs some editing. Change the there to their for example. Love the way you tell the story from an omnipotent point of view and switch characters. Just lovely.