“Breaking news out of the Neklandia City where PACR Party’s leader Ramshutu has been shot at his rally this morning. Ramshutu seems to be doing fine in ER, but plans on stepping down from the spot. The Institutionalists claim responsibility for the attack.” the news reporter echoed.
“Son of a fucking bitch.” yelled Dr.Franklin while slamming his fist down to ground. “I shot that fucker right in his chest and he’s still fucking alive.” Dr.Franklin starts to pace around the room mumbling words and phrases to himself. Dr.Franklin looks into his closet to see his wardrobe for today’s rally near Main St and 40th Ave. He debates whether or not he should look casual, or decide to fancy himself out to appeal to other side. He decides to go casual for the day, proving himself to be a man of poverty and tough origins. He walks away from the dresser and lifts up the mattress to grab his fully loaded handgun. He tucks it into his jacket, just in case.
The rally was getting wild. Cars were flipping over and everything was going crazy when Dr.Franklin walked up to the mic. He tapped the mic and the crowd went silent knowing they would soon hear from their political hero. Dr.Franklin talked passionately with a monotonic, but powerful voice that riveted throughout the crowd.
Dr.Franklin went to grab a sip of the water that was placed for him to the stool on his left. When he picked up the water, he suddenly heard a shot from the right of his ear. Without hesitation he ducked down as low as he could, making himself into a ball as more shots rapidly fired down onto the crowd. He saw a helicopter from the sky float up with 2 people from it sitting and firing down onto the ground. Suddenly, Franklin stands up.
“Time to die, fucka.” whispered Franklin. He cocked the trigger and fired his rounds onto the helicopter. He hit the window a couple of times and shattered the glass. He aimed his bullet on the captain and fired the trigger. He hit the captain dead in the head. He moved the pistol onto the 2 shooters and without hesitation, shot them in the arm and leg, demobilizing them and letting them bleed out. From there, he used his last 5 bullets to take out the engine of the helicopter. The helicopter fell and was going down at a steep decline and was aimed at hitting the 40th Ave Tower. All of the sudden, the wing clipped the side of the building, followed by the base hitting the building. A loud roar engulfed the city and a fire was soon blazing.
40 people were killed that day. Including a loyal fighter pilot named Type1. He was a controversial pilot, with his radical views on race, but his legacy will live on in their hearts.
----
Speed huffed and puffed around the office with his morning cup of coffee in hand. “How could we let these shits kill off our pilots?” he screamed.
“Procedure was followed.” answered PressF. “We couldn’t do anything about it.”
“We had 2 agents die! We have him in our grasp. What more could we have asked for?!” Speed howled.
“What choice do we have? It’s game over for us? How are we going to make an impact now. They are more powerful than ever?” replied Water. That is when the door was kicked down. The open door revealed a young man with a lit cigarette in hand. He took a puff of it and slammed it to the ground. “I heard you need help…” the man added.
“Oh really? Who the hell are you?” exclaimed Speed.
“Treat your elders with respect,” said the man right before pushing down Speed to the ground. “You need some serious help if your gonna defeat Franklin and the Institutionalists. It is the most powerful thing I’ve seen.”
“And what asset are you?” responded Speed.
“You don’t read the news, do you?” replied the man. The man pulled out the newspaper behind his back pocket, where he also pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He pointed to the title. “RationalMadman?” proclaimed Speed in a shocked tone.
If Ramshutu’s company was big business, RationalMadman’s was bigger. Winner of some of the most prized accolades in Neklandia’s history, he received recognition for being a honest, yet intimidating person. He was not someone to mess with if you wanted to make a deal with. He owned some of the shadiest businesses, but made the most profit. He was public, yet seclusive at the same time. He was a master of misconception and misperception.
He had a long rivalry with Ramshutu and his company. The words they exchange were harsh and decrippling to normal people. Both of these people had skins of steel, and could not be perpetrated easily. When a scandal came out against one, the other would be the first to respond in a fierce and unforgiving manner.
