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superman86to99 · 6 years ago

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Adventures of Superman #504 (September 1993)

REIGN OF THE SUPERMEN! The three weakest Supermen team up to take on the most ridiculously overpowered one! Last issue ended with Superboy, the Man of Steel, and the long-haired Man in Black flying towards Coast City (or what used to be Coast City), and this one starts with... the same thing, because it's a long-ass trip. At least they use this time to ponder on important matters.

When they finally reach the Cyborg Superman's city-wide robo fortress, the Man in Black loots some giant guns and ammo from an alien mook. You know, just in case you forgot this comic came out in the '90s.

(Needs more pouches, though.)

While trying to hide from the 800 aliens shooting at them, the Super-Trio bump into a giant missile that's about to be launched into Metropolis. The Cyborg Superman wants to nuke the city and replace it with another giant engine, as part of his plan to turn the Earth into a massive evil spaceship (Warworld 2.0). While the Men (in Black and Steel) continue infiltrating the fortress, Superboy manages to latch on to the missile to try to stop it from reaching its destination. It's not an easy task, but after a Spider-Man #33-esque effort...

...the Kid manages to change the missile's trajectory, taking it away from Metropolis. He saved the city! And then the missile blows up anyway, right in his face. Good thing he wasn't wearing his cool jacket in these pages, because there's no way it could have survived that one. It remains to be seen if HE did.

Character-Watch:

OK, he did. I seriously feel like turning that missile is Superboy's "Spider-Man lifting the rubble" moment. He's trapped in an impossible situation and doubts himself, but then gets his shit together and pulls it off because he has no choice. It's interesting that Karl Kesel made the Kid particularly punny and vapid at the start of this issue, almost like he was daring us to be annoyed by him, only to level him up at the end. I bet a lot of Superboy haters were converted right here.

Plotline-Watch:

Superboy's Platonic Friend Tana Moon breaks down and cries on camera about Superboy's sacrifice, probably earning a juicy raise in the process.

When we get to Superboy #60 (the kickass “Hyper-Tension!” storyline), someone remind me to check my suspicion that the page with the big multiverse-crossing missile looks exactly like the page with the regular missile in this issue.

There’s a quick cameo by journalist Jack Ryder (secretly The Creeper) as a talking head on Lois Lane’s TV, alongside Superboy’s manager Rex Leech and one of the wacky Superman cultists who paint their face like the Cyborg. Look at this guy. He shaved his head but only painted the face part? Come on man, you either commit to it or you don’t!

In Engine City, Mongul gets snappy with the Cyborg Superman again, and again gets humiliated in front of everyone (Cyborg calls him a “dog”). Why do you do this to yourself? Dump him, girl!

A robot sniper almost headshots the Man in Black, only for some invisible force to yank his gun at the last moment. Hmmm. In unrelated news, Don Sparrow says: "Interesting note that Luthor II can’t find Supergirl -- I wonder where she is?" Hmmmmmmmmmm.

Don also points out: "The Man in Black asks if he can call John Henry ‘Steel’ because the Man of Steel is too much of a mouthful on their mission, setting up for his permanent name change." Steel should have said "OK, then I'll call you Black."

I'll stop cannibalizing Don's section and just hand the mic over to him. Click "read more" to keep reading!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We start with the cover, and it has a unique heritage. This cover was sketched and laid out by Karl Kesel, penciled by Tom Grummett, and then inked by Doug Hazlewood, and it’s a good, accurate description of what we find in the issue—our three Supermen fighting their way into Engine City. Added points for bringing up the pre-Crisis concept of the Superman Revenge Squad, which was actually a grouping of Superman rogues (an updated version would appear in a few years). Weirdly, editorial is still seeming to hide the Fabio-hair on Superman proper on the covers—I wonder what that’s about!

Inside the book we get our first look at a trait that defines this issue visually: grease-pencil clouds!

Max pointed this out to me when we were chatting about the issue, and I think he’s right—this book doesn’t look like it was inked in Hazlewood’s usual way. It’s 1993, so it’s hard to imagine they could pull off “digital inking”, the practice of just darkening the pencils, but we see a pencil-like texture so often in this issue, a guy could begin to wonder if that’s maybe what they’re up to. So for the whole issue, there is a slightly looser, rushed feel, especially in the backgrounds. Then on the credits page, we notice a special thanks for Mark Heike—who google reveals to me is a comic artist in his own right. Maybe he pitched in with some semi-credited inks? Smokey clouds aside, it’s another nice splash, with the returned Superman leading the charge.

A common critique of Tom Grummett’s Superman is that the way his face is drawn can look a little Conan-like, and the new long hair doesn’t help that, though in these early pages Superman is looking very on-model and handsome.

The fight (and flight) choreography as the Superman trio enters Engine City airspace is well done, and while it couldn’t be more 90s if it tried, the image of Superman double-fisting blasters and ammo belts is pretty awesome, I must say. Plus, Superboy’s assessment that it’s “slammin’” might replace Robin’s “totally rad!” as a new catch-phrase in these reviews.

The reveal of the giant rocket has a great sense of scale (and is another example of pencil-like lines still popping up on finished art). Great sound effect there, too.

As Superboy heroically climbs up the rocket, Tom and co give a great sense of the speed, and g-forces the kid is experiencing. And there is such a great sense of drama in these last pages, as the celebrations for the missile having missed Metropolis quickly turn to grief, as Superboy is for sure, definitely dead. [Max: Forever.]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Interesting to hear Steel use the phrase “a bursting shell” in relation to piercing Superman’s skin, a callback to Action #1’s description of Superman’s invulnerability, which apparently was known in-universe as well.

I love how unequivocally “Superman” they write the Man in Black in these pages. On his first day back to civilization, he’s already saying he’d gladly die again in order to stop Warworld from taking over Earth. Goosebumps, man!

Does Kesel have dogs on the brain? First Henshaw calls Mongul a dog (ouch) and then just one panel later, Superboy makes his Dalmatian joke. (Note: Dalmatian is actually misspelled in the comic!) [Max: “Dalmation” does sound like some sort of Jack Kirby thing. Maybe it’s something the Kid saw at Cadmus?]

Superboy is pretty much a non-stop joke machine in these pages, as just about every panel he’s in, he’s cracking wise, so it’s hard to highlight all of them. Some are better than others—I get that hearing the phrase “full frontal” puts Michelle Pfeiffer into his head, but “full frontal assault” just isn’t sexy. [Max: You know, 26 years later, I JUST got that one.]

GODWATCH: Steel invokes “God” when he thinks Superboy might have been burnt up in the rocket launch, and then a page later, Superman does the same when he sees the charred corpses of Henshaw’s minions. [Max: Also, I don’t think I caught the significance of John Henry’s “I know” as a kid.]

I love Superboy’s self-talk as he climbs the missile, particularly the Caddyshack-like “crowd goes wild”. This is exactly how a kid his age would act in that crazy moment.

Lois and Clark was airing in this period, so Perry White is legally required to use Lane Smith’s “Great Shades of Elvis” catchphrase. [Max: Unfortunately they don’t have the rights anymore, so they had to change it for the collected edition...]

#superman #karl kesel #tom grummett #doug hazlewood #superboy #steel #coast city #tana moon #hank henshaw #mongul #rex leech #ron troupe #creeper #supergirl #dalmations #totally slammin'#reign of the supermen

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roxannarambles · 7 years ago

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Acquired Taste - Ch5

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Title: Acquired Taste

Author: Roxanna Rambles

Summary: When Heath defected from Bern’s wyvern knights and joined Eliwood’s group, he was very keen on keeping to himself, and for the most part, that was easy to do. However, a particular ex-assassin insisted on hounding him. It was extremely annoying. Heath hated it. And there was no way that was going to change. Nope.

Prev. Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Next Chapters: Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter11 Chapter 12 Epilogue

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There was a small but interesting difference after that night. Heath stopped slipping out to nightwatch on the sly and started informing Legault each time with a brusque comment or a look. Granted, that comment was usually just 'Thief,' but he did allow him to ride out on his wyvern. The gut-wrenching trips took some getting used to, but Legault was beginning to adjust. Eliwood's army was passing through a small mountain chain dotted with villages, so travel was less grueling for a while. There were even some nights they were able to stay within a village inn.

That was not the case on this particular evening-- at the moment they were halfway between two villages, in an area bandits sometimes trawled. As such, it was one of the nights they stood guard. The gravelly path crunched under boots as the pair walked to the summit, surrounded by towering pines. Hyperion was back at camp, having gotten into the camp's food storage and gorged herself until she couldn't move, and was now sleeping off her indulgences. Although Heath was quite annoyed with her he hadn't minded the extra exercise through the cool mountain air. It was a steady but gradual slope, and the final dying rays from the setting sun were dropping dappled light and shadow around them. For a while they hiked in tranquil silence, simply enjoying the landscape, but eventually began chatting casually about the bustling market Eliwood's group had run across the day prior.

"I was skeptical because it was only 300 gold, but it appears to be of quality craftsmanship. It feels well-balanced, as well."

"Yes, I saw that merchant. They did seem like good pieces."

"You should spar with me. I could test it properly then."

Legault laughed nervously.

"Well, I don't know about that."

"Why?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered. But you're likely to just be disappointed."

"Or are you afraid to face me?"

"You're damn right I am."

Heath gave a dissatisfied grunt as they reached a small clearing,

"I don't buy that."

"Heath, you'd likely turn me to a kebab. Is this where we're stopping?"

"Yes. Over there between those two trees, there's a lot of flat ground there."

"All right. You can clear an area. I'll fetch something at least vaguely flammable."

Clearly still keen on the sparring idea, Heath crossed his arms and smirked a little,

"I could kick you again. Seemed to work last time."

"Please don't."

"I make no promises," Heath murmured as Legault left to hunt for firewood. The thief felt his skin bristle at the low, teasing tone.

Twilight had fallen by the time they started up their fire, and Heath thankfully seemed to forget about sparring and had moved on to describe the more awful trinkets he'd come across in the market.

"I think it was intended as a charm for St. Elimine, but it looked to be carved from dung with a spoon. I had no idea Lycia contained such an impressive amount of garbage."

"Did you see the fellow with the magic potions? He tried to sell me something I'm pretty sure was pond sludge."

"Con men, counterfeiters, and peddlers of junk, every last one of them."

"Now, that's a bit harsh. What about your new lance?"

"The only exception in that village."

"Mm-hmm, but you're wrong there," Legault sing-songed, grinning knowingly. Heath looked at him quizzically.

"What are you on about?"

"I brought us a special little something I acquired yesterday."

"I swear to the gods, Legault, if it's more of those pies--"

"It isn't. They sadly didn't have those," he said, rooting about in his shoulder bag from the market. He pulled a large clay bottle out and held it aloft.

"Tadaa!"

Heath actually seemed mildly impressed.

"Mead?"

"Yep."

"Are you certain it isn't just pond sludge?"

"Only one way to find out," Legault said, rocking the cork stopper out with a pop. He tilted the bottle back and took a small sip. Heath watched expectantly for the verdict.

"Ok. That--" Legault said, and tilted the bottle again, taking a much bigger swig,

"--mm. Is some excellent pond sludge."

He held out the bottle to Heath, but the wyvern rider was hesitant.

"We're on duty, Legault."

"Pfft. It's just a bit of mead, we're not going to empty it tonight. And when's the last time we've actually run into trouble during nightwatch?"

"That isn't the point. We should always be prepared. We're responsible for protecting the safety of the camp."

Legault raised his brows and fixed Heath with a look. Heath frowned. Legault continued to look at him. Heath set his jaw. Legault stared.

Heath tried to ignore him. It didn't last for very long. He sighed.

"All right, just hand it over."

Legault passed it over, saying,

"I'm afraid I didn't bring cups so we need to drink out of the bottle like dirty savages."

Heath took a cautious sip from the stout bottle. His expression was unreadable. Legault asked,

"What do you think?"

After a moment, the man nodded and said approvingly,

"Good job, thief."

Legault tried very hard to not look like he was basking in the glow of Heath's approval, but a dumb smile reached his face anyway. Heath took a healthy swallow of mead.

"I guess not all of Lycia is garbage after all."

"Not when you have the right connections."

Heath handed the bottle back and then seemed to register what he said. In an unsurprised tone, he asked,

"Were your methods for acquiring this less than virtuous?"

Legault chuckled and said in a honeyed tone,

"I'm not sure what you're implying, Heath."

"That sort of thing could get our group into trouble, you know."

Legault took another drink and replied,

"Don't worry, nobody's going to miss a bottle that's fallen off the ample shelves of the local noble."

"Lord Gladwin?"

Legault nodded.

"Not a very popular fellow around here. Wasn't hard to get to. His servants practically begged me to help myself."

"Well, I suppose that's not so bad. I was concerned it may have been one of the merchants."

Legault looked appalled.

"Give me a little more credit than that. Do you really think I'd lift someone's livelihood?"

Heath was thrown off a moment.

"I . . . really was not certain."

Legault shook his head.

"My targets have always been twisted nobles. Even when I was young and desperate, it was all I went after. Preying on the already vulnerable would just be cannibalism."

Off Heath's questioning look, Legault clarified,

"Going after my own kind, you know? Besides, exploiting the weak is as loathsome as it gets. I wasn't about to start doing it myself."

Heath smiled a little.

"An honorable thief. I would not have imagined it."

Legault chuckled.

"I do have some standards. Admittedly, I also loved a good challenge. Going after highborn fat cats killed two birds with one stone."

"And then you became Black Fang."

"Mmm. Almost seemed like a natural progression."

Heath appeared amused.

"I'm honestly a little surprised Eliwood asked you to join him, considering your history with nobility."

Legault laughed and took a drink.

"I don't hate nobility whole cloth. None of us did. We hated abuse of power. You make it sound as though we went about slaughtering willy-nilly. We actually had a very meticulous procedure for selecting targets."

The wyvern rider was clearly intrigued.

"How did it work?"

Legault made vague gestures.

"Well, you know, collecting information, holding discussions, drawing up guidelines, the likes."

"Guidelines?"

He nodded.

"What I mean is that everything was codified. Our criteria, our modus operandi, our decision-making, all of it. Reed knew playing both judge and executioner could lead to a slippery slope-- he didn't want any of us to end up abusing power in the very same way we loathed. Truth be told, we tried our best to ensure only the most abhorrent ones faced the Fang's judgment, unreachable through other means."

Heath seemed very thoughtful. He commented,

"I had no idea."

"We didn't exactly made it a habit to share information about ourselves," Legault said wryly.

"But enough of my banging on about my old job," he added brightly, handing Heath the mead back,

"I'm very happy to leave the past in the past. Best to enjoy the present. Wouldn't you agree?"

Heath looked at the clay bottle a moment, as if considering the question. He took a drink.

"A valid point."

The evening passed more pleasantly than Legault had expected, conversation curving around light and wonderfully unimportant things. As the crescent moon climbed higher in the sky, Legault found the bottle of mead growing lighter and lighter.

"Actually, an Etrurian couple took him in when he was quite young and raised him as their own. He's currently on a training sabbatical, apprentice sort of stuff."

"What about the young man from Sacae?"

"Ah, yes. Tells everyone he's on a personal crusade of sword mastery, but mainly it was because he couldn't cut it as a nomad. Nice fellow, though. Likes to cook. Makes a nice chicken curry."

"All right, fine. How about those two grody axe-fighters? I can't always tell them apart, to be honest."

"Dorcas is the quiet one. He's trying to earn money for a sick wife back in Pherae. Natalie, I believe it was. Bartre is the one always punching things. People, objects . . . he punched a horse once, actually. The horse didn't care for it. He ended up with his jaw wired shut and in traction for a few weeks. Bartre, that is, not the horse."

Heath crossed his arms and spoke with confidence,

"Very well. But here's one you won't get-- the red-headed man, Raven, I think? I've not heard him speak but two words since he joined."

"He's not much for conversation, is he? He is no simple mercenary, though, as claimed. He's disguising his identity-- he's actually of royal blood. For what purpose, I can't say, but I'd keep an eye on him if I were you."

"Dragon's teeth, Legault, how do you know all this?!"

"I talk to people! And also, well, I notice things."

"You spy on them?"

Legault snorted.

"I don't think it's spying when you're standing in plain sight. I just like to people watch. I always have."

"Strange hobby."

The thief shrugged.

"Something to do. People can be fascinating. I like to know how they tick."

Heath shook his head, bemused,

"So with all the strange and diverse characters around, why choose to spend your time sitting here?"

Legault laughed.

"Are you kidding? You're by far the most compelling."

Heath glanced away, huffing, but Legault could catch the brief embarrassed expression.

"I assure you I'm not."

Legault leaned forward on the log he was perched upon and purred,

"I saw the fire in your eyes the day you arrived. You're pure, undiluted tenacity. I like it."

"Give me that mead. You're sounding more foolish than usual."

Legault grinned and passed the bottle over, saying,

"Who's being modest now?"

Heath looked annoyed. To avoid answering, he took a draft from the bottle. After a moment, he blurted,

"You don't even know me, Legault."

Legault smiled wickedly,

"Would you like to change that?"

Heath recoiled.

"Oh, come on-- I'm only joking. You always do that."

"You have a bizarre sense of humor."

"Yes, I am a little strange, I suppose."

Heath raised his brows at him.

"I think you just like to unnerve people."

The thief laughed,

"That's not true! I'm a friendly fellow!"

"The first thing you did when you met me was sneak up on me."

"That was the second thing. Besides, that's how I'm friendly."

"Uh-huh. Here, just take this back."

Heath plunked the bottle back into his hands.

"I thought you said I've been spouting too much nonsense for this?"

"I've realized it doesn't really make any difference."

Legault grinned at him and was about to reply, but the smile faded from his face. He spoke in a normal tone, though slightly quieter,

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think someone's come to crash our private party."

Heath frowned at him.

"What are you talking about?"

Legault's eyes flicked very briefly to the trees behind them,

"I wasn't sure at first, but I am now. Two or three of them, trying to be stealthy, really quite bad at it. They're closing in from the old snag, and the boulder to the right."

Heath looked around and was about to jump to his feet, but Legault spat,

"Wait."

Heath balled his fist about the handle of his lance but did not move. He replied tersely,

"Why? I can face three easily."

Legault shook his head.

"You knights are always so gung-ho about charging in, blades blazing. This calls for a more subtle approach."

Impatiently, Heath said,

"What do you suggest then?"

Legault nodded to the clearing in front of them,

"Go out to fetch some wood for the fire. Be loud about it. Drop into those trees and circle back. I'll be here as bait. They want the silly bags from yesterday's market, I'd bet."

"How do you--"

"--just go. They'll be within earshot soon."

Heath climbed to his feet, swaying only briefly, and then made a big production of telling Legault he was going to get more firewood.

"Sounds lovely to me. Can't have us catch our death out here, hmm? Ooh, try and find some pinecones while you're out there. I like how they crackle."

Heath rolled his eyes and strode off, with a reluctant backwards glance. Legault had reclined upon his log, hands tucked behind his head, looking at perfect peace. Heath clearly thought this was a stupid idea but vanished into the trees nevertheless.

Legault closed his eyes, concentrating completely on the sounds of the woods. Their pursuers drew closer and closer, emboldened and dropping much of the pretense of caution. Legault began to worry when they were practically upon him, but at that moment, a crash to his left through the underbrush announced Heath's assault.

A twisted ball of confusion burst out into the clearing, Heath whipping his lance about while two scruffy bandits swung axes at him in a panic. Heath's lance embedded itself in the leather armor of one bandit, and the ruffian's ally took advantage, going for Heath's throat while his weapon was caught. The knight ducked, the axe whistling just above him, and bodily shoved at the man while he was off-balance from his swing, then yanked his lance free and spun it around. The flat of the blade cracked hard off the bandit's skull, knocking him dizzily to the ground. The axe of the other fellow rang out against the back of Heath's breastplate, but failed to cleave through.

Thus far, Legault had been watching the scuffle, not feeling the need to step in. As Heath spun about and took on the bandit still standing, he still looked like he pretty much had things handled. However, something leapt in Legault's peripheral vision-- the third bandit that had been closing in from the other side, now charging at Heath while he was occupied. A simple glance confirmed Heath had yet to notice, busy driving his lance back into already torn armor.

Moments later Heath had felled his foe, but shot his head up at the approach of a third bandit barreling down at him. The bandit's expression shifted from angry to shocked as Legault pounced, arm hooked around the man's neck, cold blade pressed to his throat. The two skidded to a halt right in front of Heath, and stood there, Legault's dagger still pressed to the man's windpipe.

Heath stood from his crouched position over the man he'd just put a lance into. He watched the final bandit's eyes bug out as Legault leaned in, murmuring into his ear:

"Want to know a secret?"

The bandit swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing the dagger blade, but said nothing. Legault dropped to a whisper.

"My friend here's scarier than me."

The bandit whimpered. Legault muttered to him slowly,

"So if I let you go, you'd better be quick . . . I can't promise he won't follow . . . understand?"

The bandit made an unintelligible noise, and Legault said,

"Hmm? What was that?"

The man choked out a very strained 'yes' and after a moment, Legault removed his dagger and pulled away. The bandit stumbled immediately and nearly fell, but scrambled along in a sheer panic and then ran off into the woods. Heath and Legault watched him vanish, trees crashing behind him.

Legault turned to the other two dropped bandits and said,

"Guess he wasn't too interested in helping out his buddies."

Heath nodded at them,

"They'll live. I've only injured this one and the other will wake with a nasty headache."

They stared for a few moments at the crumpled bandits, as if still taking in what had happened. The fallen men were dressed in crusted leather armors and boots and festooned with various satchel bags and numerous blade sheaths. It was clear they were just local riffraff looking to pick off travelers.

"Looks like you were right about them being scavengers."

"Yeah, it explains why they were about as good at sneaking around as drunken sailors."

Heath turned to Legault, giving a short, breathless laugh,

"You certainly scared the wits out of that other one."

Legault shrugged a little,

"Sometimes all you need to do is talk a big talk."

Heath crossed his arms.

"And you claim you don't enjoy unnerving people."

"Well," Legault drawled, smile dancing lightly on his face,

"You're still the most fun for that."

Heath plucked his lance up and smiled slyly at Legault, then sunk into a battle position, eyes shining with zeal.

"Then come at me. My blood's still pumping and I'd like the extra practice."

Legault stumbled briefly on a tree root in his haste to step back and said,

"Ah-ha uh, what? Now? Shouldn't we report the little bandit problem to camp?"

Heath glanced back to the bandits, looking disappointed.

"Right. I suppose so."

He turned and gestured at Legault,

"Next time, then! You won't get out of it."

Legault winced, but answered,

"All right, all right. Just don't be too surprised if I end up getting blood on your nice new weapon."

Heath laughed-- really did so this time, a warmer, more free sound that contrasted from usual-- and Legault felt stupid butterflies dance about in his stomach.

"I'll try to prevent it, if I can," the wyvern rider grinned, as they walked back to camp.

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#fire emblem #legault/heath #legault #heath #mystuff #fanfic

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pautassiumposts · 5 years ago

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Society without government

News Patches Board From God:

“

-We are running a BETA of the world 242 away from CELTA, hooray! (Even hooray has no definite meaning in it)

-Since we are entering a new age of reformation, we would try a newly introduced system named - ANARCHY. It simply means the formation of a society of no Government. (I know, it has been introduced with such system)

-The introduction of Anarchy includes multiple problems and benefit:

Upside-

no need to worry about the nation’s happy status (Literally you don't have to care)

Freely trading system, never a central market existence, there are only free trades. (Good economy)

More flexibility to rule a country that is never ruled

Downsides:

More chaos, more war (BURN IN FIRE!!!)

Instead of an intact national system, we realize it is possible to have a family or a great league to appear that might eventually rule a country, but these cost years and a ton of money

No arts trade, because of the quality of art and philosophy in society is very bad.

------------------------------------------------

Now then, go find your world and rule the people!”

I heard about it 11 years ago, that day where none of us can possibly forget. The nation that I loved, so beautiful and functional disappeared. Almost no resistance from the crowd or the king. They just accepted it as if the strings of the muppet broke and they are panic and don’t know what to do. All I heard was nothing but a snap of a finger from above, and not even gradually, the world changed. People always feared this moment, this is why they lock their doors when they leave. They never trusted each other, even the most trustworthy betrays. One advantage to me was that I never had any friend, I am no more than an anti-socialist. Not as if no one can never get close to me, but I manipulated all my “friends” as a tool. A soul friend you ask? I can tell you from the 23 years that I lived which a friend was not important, all you need to care about is your survival.

This is how I feel - powerless and fear. I know that everything in this world was different from the one that I lived when I was young. When I was young, my land was happy faces; everyone talked and chatted with some pain in their mind but at least - living, whereas the formation of an unbalanced society which gave people no chance to thrive in the current form of it. Confusingly, from my mother, she always bragged about how our great weapon systems such as H-gas, R-bomb and especially the Big Brother system that is keeping your safety. The children before never were forced to do anything, now they are forced to live if they wish to live. They always have a choice between life and death- it is the fear that drives them to do what they are doing right now: to live is to suffer.

My house is located somewhere around the rural part of the world. Speaking of world, the world is only part of the world. My limit to my word is the limit to my world, and perhaps this is why these two words “word” and “world” are very similar. I was trying to describe the place where I lived in right now, the world. However, every night when I just came up with a new word to describe a word to describe it I forget about it. Only that I cannot remember and I can never write it down on a paper. I instantly forget that word when I start to think about it. (Please do read this part ple..)

As usual, I walk out of the house and lock my door. I set up some bobby traps for some savages who try to steal my food. However, the traps that I had right now kills people, which helps me to get some more food. Although the meat they carry is a bit salty and dehydrated, I suppose everyone eats meat right? When I was young, I tasted different fish. Some fish’s meat was delicious because they eat vegetables, but some are really disgusting and I can even find more dead bodies of fishes in the bigger fish that I just caught.

Anyway, I got some important things to do today as I always have a dream to be safe again. I need protection: in reality, the world like such is really not gonna keep me alive for some years without a very powerful group of people holding together. I assume it is the only way to win and survive. And only with survival, my dream shall live on: I never thought this was something that I will say but I want to restore a government where no one will get hurt, but I will never allow my kingdom to be equal, ever! I thought a lot when I was dreaming, I swear I cried when I dreamed about it, tears fell down on the bed and I can hardly wash away the salty smell. A world that people have to be equal in the idea of diversity will not really work: I imagined a strong man who is stupid and a handicapped man who is smart. The strong man will always physically bully the handicapped and get something out from it. The handicapped man, although smart, will die. A equal world never works because the reason the world I am in right now. We put money into some stupid shark that eats your money and you can get his saliva in return; why did we do such thing? We used to have a concept of money and it was everything in my old world. We wished to keep our materials safe from danger, but from whom? Everyone was responsible for such an idea, if just have the simple trust between tools and man then banks would never exist- we will all put some money inside our houses or on the floor of a public street because no one would steal your money.

Today, however, we never steal money as well. In such a chaotic world, the definition of money was lost from that day where a snap was heard from above. I must, therefore, find a powerful clan filled with people that help each other and protect each other. Maybe a clan so perfect never existed, or it will cost me everything to get in there. I still have a past technology from my old world. It is just amazing I can still eat some toast every morning. Strangely, the electricity supply was still there. I believe as if one of the families owned it and offered the workers some protections to generate electricity. On my way to the meeting, I saw a child lost its arm but asking everyone for food. The poor people did not care; the rich people gave him some; the barbarian gave him an ax on the face and grabbed the food and drink from the blood. I behold but never a word I claim. As in this world, I am not the ruler, I have no right to say that the cannibal was wrong; he has his families and people perhaps, he just wanted to see tomorrow’s sunlight as fear made him do it. Fear made me do my action, fear made him do his killing, and fear made the sun die.

In this world, its to kill or be killed (Author notes: a citation from Undertale). I had seen enough and heard enough shouting. I am almost there as my steps on the sand faded by the storm of the wind. I walk. I saw. I run. I shut the door. And I am shocked...

“Why did the developer make an anarchy update to civilization VIII?”

“I don't know John, maybe it is a good one never seen before?”

“Alright I had enough, this country just doesn't work, which family should I invest in? The Barbarians, The Order or WuDi?”

“My friend, the point of this new update is for you to experience how to rule an anarchy country, not for you to rule it... did I just repeated myself?”

“Why yes, of course, you did, because everyone wanted a government isn’t it, you silly.”

“Okay.”

“How about our old world, do we just let it go? I mean I have the saves I can just turn it back right now...”

“Keep the save, but I really want to see how this is going to end. I consider it good opportunity to understand anarchy. Or at least his point of view of anarchy.”

“I knew you would say that, well, we shall see about it later, but which faction you want to join?”

“If a man not able to mind up then it shall sit down.”

“Fine...”

You decide which faction he joins, that is if you want to continue this series.

I will improve my writing skill next time, and please give more criticism than compliments. Show the parts where I can really improve on down in the comment section.

Thank you very much for reading!

#A new beginning of a new story

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