( Didn't think I forgot, did you? The following narrative has been wrapped in spoiler tags for topic convenience. Enjoy, please. Or not. I reckon I can't force you to, even if you'd be employing Wisdom by disliking the following. It's a free world after all, right? Right. Tally ho! )
March 2015: Boston, Massachusetts
Caving in to immense public pressure, the non-radical elements of Congress ratified the final bills necessary for the country to achieve Elite Liberal status. The Arch-Conservative Nightmare of 2009 has been shattered, leaving peace and hope in its fragmented wake. To commemorate the occasion, the government officially sanctioned its first ever Elite Liberal Conference, and, in a tribute to history, held the conference in the birthplace of the Liberal Crime Squad...
"My brothers and sisters, I am proud to welcome you all to the first government-sanctioned Liberal conference held after the Triumph of the Liberal Agenda!"
Rabid applause echoes through the outdoor stadium. It is a new construct, capable of seating over one hundred thousand Liberals, and the Conservatives had first used it for their nefarious, oppressive activities. Now, it serves as a beacon for the free and true. The people are crammed so close together they can only stand. Dozens of broadcasting stations convey the experience through all forms of media to the globe. Nothing can trump this moment, with juice and heart flowing so high. This is a celebration of their victory. This is a beacon for the future.
"Yes... yes, applaud yourselves, all of you, for you all deserve it, and you all earned it, every single one of you. You all helped to make this possible. We couldn't have done it without you, and you, and you. All of you achieved the dream together. All of you made this happen."
The applause continues. The audience starts chanting "Lib-er-als! Lib-er-als!" while they high-five each other and smile. The speaker on stage, President Florence Kilbourne, beams at her people, and she waits for another minute before continuing her speech.
"As you all know, we're here to celebrate us for three entire days, and we've got a wonderful smorgasbord of speakers and entertainers who've come especially for this occasion. Workshops, luncheons, movies... you name it, we have it. How couldn't we... with the resources of the United States of America behind us!?"
The audience cheers. One Liberal cries, "YOU'RE BUILT LIKE A BRICK SHITHOUSE, BABY!" much to the amusement of everyone else.
"Indeed, I am. I'll get your number later, honey... Anyway, although you have all of that in mind - you've each received a program containing all of our suggested events - we did manage to net a special surprise for you. And I know you all like surprises. So, allow me to introduce the PRESENTER of the surprise... You know him as the founder of the Liberal Guardian along with his background as a hardened veteran of the fabled, glorious Liberal Crime Squad. My friends, I bring you Hugo Ransom!"
Heart-filled cheers shake the rafters of the room as Hugo steps out from the back onto the stage. Severely wounded in his fights against Conservatism, Hugo was the first Elite Liberal to showcase the restorative properties of Heart. Armed with functioning limbs and a deft tongue, he serves as a living example of why Wisdom would never win. He shakes the President's hand before taking the podium and grinning out at the audience.
"Bitches and bastards... WHAT IS UP!?"
The people respond favourably. Four men hold up a large sign proclaiming in bold letters: WE WANT YOUR BOD.
"Would you look at all of this? All of us? Six years ago, this would have been an affront to society. Six years ago, we would have all been killed on sight by the Death Squads patrolling this city. But we're all here now, standing tall and proud, looming victorious over our vanished foes: Those Arch-Conservative mother fuckers!"
Boos and hisses echo through the crowd at the mention of Conservatives. Hugo nods at them before laughing.
"Come on. Can we not be gracious in victory?"
Boo. Hiss. Rawr.
"All right, all right. I agree with you all, too, don't you know? I was there. I fought on the front lines against Conservatism. I opposed them with my blood, flesh, and sinew as a member of the Liberal Crime Squad, a group bound together by our burning hatred of evil and the desperate desire to find a way to repel it. I understand what all of you felt, what you're still feeling now, which is likely why I've been chosen as the presenter of this surprise. Though I don't think too highly of myself, or consid--"
He can't finish his self-deprecating words; the people override him with loud cheers and cries. He attempts to talk over them, but fails. Initially frustrated, his face finally settles on appreciative amusement.
"You made your point, everyone. I mattered, okay?"
They applaud.
"But I dare say, with all due rightness, I did not matter as much as this homegrown surprise. We found him last week, living in a log cabin in Massachusetts he built with his own hands. With a bit of persuasion, we managed to coax him out of retirement... and come here today, to speak with us all."
The audience quirks its collective head.
"Oh, don't worry; I'm sure you all will remember him. He is, after all, the last surviving member of Grimith's original Liberal Crime Squad, the one man who picked up the dream and carried the fight to those Conservative fuckers, the heart and soul behind the fight to free us all, the driving factor responsible for keeping us safe from The Menace, the carrier of the dream, the bringer of glory, the Champion of Elite Liberal Justice, second only to Grimith in the annals of Elite Liberal History - some would dare argue more import--"
Drug-widened eyes only widen further. The people are holding their breath. The radio broadcasters are silent. They all quiver in anticipation, tremble over the words Hugo just said, consider the possibilities. They all know the subject, understand Hugo's meaning, but certainly he couldn't possibly mean...
"Oh, hell, he doesn't need an introduction! See for yourself."
Frozen silence holds the crowd while the curtain behind Hugo parts. Slowly, leaning on a staff for support, a figure emerges from the shadows. He's a lanky giant, bowed by more than just a hunchback; the passing of time has riddled his Conservatively scarred and mutated body with more flaws than Liberal medicine could ever cure. The wrinkles, the gait, the wisps of grey hair on his head; everything about him screams ancient, a relic from the past, a bag of dust of bones somehow given animation tonight. But the eyes, the eyes which glare out into the audience, speak of unseen power, of unbridled passion, and when he shakes Hugo's hand, when he takes the podium, when he lowers his lips to the microphone, the people are ready. For him.
"Hello."
Gasps echo through the people. Many faint next to their brethren at the sight before them. They're not applauding, not cheering, just... absorbing.
"What, thought me dead? Believed me just a legend? No. You've come face-to-face with the body and soul of Pariah. What, dear Liberals, say you!?"
A young girl near the front of the stadium recovers from the shock. She can no longer remain silent. Her arms outstretched, her lips scream, "I LOVE YOU!" Many more are soon to follow as they grasp hold of the surreality. Pariah, the Leader of the Liberal Crime Squad, stood before them. They had to cheer!
Except for one person. One person who, barging out from the curtains, lifts a concealed pistol and shouted, "Die, Liberal!" Three shots are fired before anyone could take down the Conservative Scum, all aiming for Pariah's chest, flying straight and true, and the founder, the leader, the heart of Liberal Crime Squad would have his murder broadcast to everyone, and he would become a martyr as did Grimith...
...until the lanky figure, showcasing an otherworldly speed fueled purely by Heart, without even looking back at the terrorist, sidesteps the bullets. They slam into the podium, blowing splinters into the air, but the mutant only had eyes for the people before him. They are chilled into quiet once more, their brains too filled with Wisdom to comprehend how Pariah managed to survive.
Spreading his shaky arms, his eyes piercing the collective soul of the audience, Pariah bellows, "What, dear Liberals, say you!?" And he has them, unquestioningly and unerringly, his aura too overpowering to resist, his presence too masterful to witness. While the saboteur is taken to be ReEducated, the people roar their approval at the mutant. Three minutes later, only Pariah's hand motioning for silence causes the crowd's voice to cease. Lowering his arms and leaning once more against the damaged podium, he continues.
"Thank you all for welcoming me to this convention; better yet, thank you to President Florence Kilbourne for inviting me here... as a matter-of-fact, how about a round of applause for the ELITE LIBERAL PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!?"
She blushes and bows as the crowd voices their pleasure, particularly when Pariah turns and smiles at her.
"And what a beautiful, radiant woman she is. How could I refuse her request? Made at my doorstep, at a time I thought I'd never be found, she is the reason why I am here today. Thank you, Miss President."
He then turns his eyes to Hugo.
"And you, Hugo! Claim the credit you deserve. We all know what you did to help the cause. No one may ever belittle your actions, and your deeds will never be forgotten. Why, no one ever need look further than your wholesome body as evidence for how great your heart is. How could the Conservatives hope to defeat a man who regenerated his limbs as a starfish whenever they shot them off of you? A round of applause, please, for Mister Hugo Ransom!"
Cheers and whistles escape the crowd while Hugo good-naturedly shakes his head. By nature, he's a journalist, someone who captures others in the limelight, not himself. Still, he gives an embarassed, accepting wave to the crowd, all under the beaming approval of his one-time leader.
"But let us not forget that we would not be here, that this would not be possible, without the aid of each of you. Through your actions and deeds, you carried by lip and writ the glory of Elite Liberalism, thriving actively and covertly against the Corporate Menace. Without your aid, Heart never would have won. For that, I thank all of you."
The crowd erupts into another roar of approval. Truly, they would all have sore hands and throats before this occasion ended.
"Yes, yes. Keep going. You've all done a wonderful job, keeping the faith and staying the course until the very end. Not everyone can say the same... not even me."
The cheering subsides. The crowd quirks an inquisitive brow.
"As you all know, I vanished two years ago. Disbanded the militarist element of the Liberal Crime Squad, ordered the active group to lay low, and observe from afar as the country peacefully transitioned into the Elite Liberal Agenda. I faded from view, self-assumed my namesake, and became a hermit living in a log cabin, isolated from America. While my actions ultimately served the better - we achieved more success through less bloodshed - my motives were impure: full of Wisdom, and devoid of Heart."
People watch in shock while the aged mutant continues.
"I abandoned the cause to which I set myself years ago after Grimith's death and sought a simple life, one of quiet and peace. Foolish? Of course it was. That's how Conservatism sunk its teeth into our nation, and that's part of how it nearly obtained a complete stranglehold on our nation: inactivity. If all of you here, if everyone at home were to stop fighting today, quit championing for right, our children would be the ones to face the next Conservative Nightmare. Consequently, I failed myself. I failed the dream. And I failed all of you who, over the past years, have come to see me in a different way, to view me as a champion for the cause, a leader of the Liberal Crime Squad. I was nothing more than a brute, a sham!"
Pariah trembles more fiercely, emotions saved from two years of solitude boiling to the surface and overwhelming him. In the company of fellow Liberals, he should feel free to open himself as such, but the people, unprepared for this occasion, had nothing to offer but rapt attention while he pours himself out before them.
"So you're wondering, 'Why, Pariah? Why did you do it? Why did you dismantle the Liberal Crime Squad and abandon us?' You feel cheated. Betrayed. Don't even dare to shake your head; I see it in your eyes! Don't dare lose Heart by lying to me. Am I not a traitor to you all, no better than the Conservative Scum who attempted to murder me!?"
This is too much for the people. Almost as one, they begin shouting their collective denial at him. Honestly, how dare he do such a thing, appear out of nowhere and declare them all fools for continuing to hold him in high regard!? If he kept this up, HE would be the one full of Wisd--
"Silence!"
Two years, and he hasn't forgotten how to command others. The words of protest die on their lips.
"Haven't you all lied to yourselves enough? Don't you have enough cause to be proud of your Liberal heritage without deceiving yourself regarding me? Chock full of Wisdom you dare to be, holding me up on a pedestal, but do you all know how many times I violated the cause for the cause? No. You don't. You weren't there. You may have heard of the weekly sieges the Conservatives held on our compounds, but you weren't sallying forth to kill the soldiers scraped together and thrown at us. Grown men, trained killers of the Corporate Menace, marching column after column into our safehouses, stepping into our traps ad nauseum, allowing us to... no, it wasn't even a fight. We butchered them. Brutally executed hundreds of young men. We slaughtered them, as they would slaughter us if they had the chance. We butchered the servants of the automatons... and those fucking CEOs would keep pulling strings to send them at us. Bomb us from the skies with their planes and copters? No. Send in engineers to disarm the tank traps before raging into the complex to crush us all? No. They just sent in wave after wave of people... and they would stumble on the traps, and they would cry to God... and we would riddle them full of ammo until their bodies exploded. Over. And over. We eviscerated these trained killers, these... mindless beings. And we thought it okay, you know; you all still think it's okay, view it with such romanticism, that the Liberal Crime Squad used Conservative methods, Conservative weaponry to further an opposed agenda! You ate it all up, every single one of you! That's what happened, isn't it? You heard about the stories of the slaughter at the Cable and Radio Stations, were inspired to thoughts of dream and glory at the wet dream of murdering so many hicks and rednecks, that you couldn't help but cream Liberalism. Did you even care about our methods? Did you even bother with worrying about the bloodlust? Or did you allow yourselves to be swayed so easily by LIBERAL TYRANNY?"
Many viewers are getting angry. The President made a mistake, surely. This isn't actually the leader of LCS. This... Conservative Sleeper Scum! That's what he must have been. But no one took any action; certainly no one else on the stage. The President stands frozen, mortified at Pariah's words. Hugo, on the other hand, almost appears amused... certainly, free speech for all carried its own set of quirks.
"You know... Grimith was just as bloodthirsty of a tyrant, right?"
That does it. The people snap. "FUCK YOU, SCUM!" echos through the crowd while they charge the stage. Security pulls the President off the stage, leaving Hugo to watch the approaching stampede with widening eyes. Certainly, even though Pariah had insulted all they held dear, they wouldn't attempt anything... right?
"What happened to freedom, peace, and love? What became of free speech!? Do you dare oppress me as the Conservative fuckers oppress--"
The first of the mob to step on the stage charge Pariah like a thrown spear, threatening to impale him on his shoulder. With Heartful grace, Pariah twirls out of the way of the blow, his limbs trembling while he swings his staff into a defensive stance.
"Shall I add your names to the list of automatons I've killed?"
A circle forms around him; the people make their own fighting pit.
"Will you attempt to make a martyr of me for the Cause like the Conservative terrorist did?"
They shake their heads and roar their displeasure. Clearly, that event had been a well-orchestrated Conservative trap to lull them all into a false sense of security!
"Ancient and crippled, I've killed far worse than this pathetic, hypocritical army of hippes and crackheads. So, go on, if you must. Redeem my service to Elite Liberal Justice... if you can!"
With cameras to broadcast the event to the globe, with announcers of all languages translating the events before them, in the light and glow of the stadium, the crowd lowers it collective head and charges at their presumed foe, an old mutant who lowers his staff and sighs. The people could not help but follow in the footsteps of the Liberal Crime Squad, oppressing all identified foes with acts of violence. The peace? The love? The joy and tranquility? The thought of ever escaping the looming, oppressive weight of hatred and loathing? The dream of obtaining happiness in a Liberal society? All gone under the need for Elite Liberal Justice. As the people, his supposed comrades, dragged him down to the floor, to beat him and smash him, he offered a mental shrug. Perhaps the people were just so overprotective of their newly gained liberties that they couldn't see the truth. Or maybe they were always doomed to feel this way. If the latter were true, no wonder the Conservatives could whip them so easily into frenzies.
Perhaps, after all, The Menace had its last laugh.
- - -
After the conclusion of the convention, Hugo Ransom stood on the main stage of the stadium, his gaze staring at something beyond the floor. He could not shake the terror and shock of what he had witnessed. Neither could the global media. The European Union, the United Nations... all were harshly critical of what had transpired here. But Americans knew what was right and what was true, and they refused to be fooled by such blatant Sleeper Scum, not for long anyway. And, in the offchance he had actually been Pariah, their hero, clearly the fuckers had gotten to him, brainwashed him, made him an automaton. He would have never dared spoken like that otherwise, not the hero they loved and cherished.
"Are we destined to fall back into Conservatism?"
"Was it all for naught?"
"Why did you do it?"
The stage provided no answers, but perhaps something else would. Nestled among his belongings, found while he prepared his gear to leave the convention, he noticed a thumbdrive wrapped securely within a note. He hadn't gotten the opportunity yet to see the contents of the device, so he could only lift the note in his hand for he umpteenth time, read it, and wonder:
The Juice flowed within my veins once more after you and the President found me, and I haven't felt so alive since He saved me. I feared to lose that feeling; to falter in Heart once more. So I had to do it. I had to showcase the trappings, the flaws at work in our people, and leave the task of fixing them to you. I know you're up to the task, Hugo. I saw it in your eyes. You, of such majestic Heart as to restore the Conservative scars made upon your flesh, alone are capable of bringing our people to true Elite Liberalism. Please, save them. Save us. Don't let His sacrifice be in vain.
I will be watching. Now go be the hero you never wanted to be. He's counting on you.
- Kurt Ross, "Pariah"
-EDIT: Rabble rabble typos rabble.
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Topic: Let's Get On With It - Liberal Crime Squad: A Let's Play Adventure (COMPLETED) (Read 109993 times)