The filthy creature was a man of thirty years old, but most citizens would expect him to be an outlander. After-all he once did live in the beautiful Mizzlier, but thirteen years ago he was illegally transported into Mirraq 's 'dystopic' borders. But at this moment, this man’s life was flashing through his head. The police officer that was beating his weak body was a faceless android, brainwashed to the point of evil. He, or if you could even classify this monster as a man, was in the midst of arresting the poor man.
The wretch had just vomited on the police officer’s metallic black armor. In his own defense, the poor man tried to defend himself and tell the police man that he was just sick and did not mean to vomit but this cold cruel officer had no mercy. The officer cuffed the wretch and threw him into the trunk of his vehicle. The officer slammed the trunks door and quickly stepped on the gas peddle. If one was close enough, hearing the officer mumble “that little fucking shit” was possible but law enforcers were trained not to talk to loud. The officer drove down the snowy gray street with the noise of the wretched man banging around on the inside of the truck. The last thing the officer saw was the painted face of a rebel, looking through a sniper rifles scope.
Blood exploded over the windshield, half of the officers mostly armored head was gone. The car jolted to a stop, and the wretch in the trunk slammed onto the opposite wall of the compartment. The wretch paused, half expecting the police officer to tear him out of the car and start beating him, but also half expecting some sort of miracle. Needless, the rebels ran up to the truck and checked the pilot seat to analyze the situation. The wretch heard the rebels speak and knew, because of the heavy accent, that they were not other officers but freedom fighters. He mumbled something about god and then waited for the rebels to pop open the trunk and rescue him....
That was the brutal account of a normal citizen in the nation of Mirraq. A black-veiled demon country, ruled with an iron fist by a sappy conglomerate of rich Nobles. Mirraq once ruled the land of Mizzlier, a now technologically advanced country of epic proportions. Mirraq once ruled Mizzlier because on a gray day years ago, the people of Mizzlier revolted with a fist of unified hearts and minds, something that cannot simply be put down by a great Iron Heel.
But now Mirraq has grown strong. We are ready. Our Nobles have raised and army formidable enough to make Mizzlier bow too us once again. Mizzlier, the day of your destruction is nearing.
"Power! Power! Hail! Hail the STATE!", chanted the 1 million soldiers organized before Arch-Noble Acestrial. Acestrial nodded his head weakly and muttered, "yes, yes, very good." He looked into the skies, preparing to inspire his troops as he stood upon the black-stained podium with the steel banners flying below him. He raised his fist, and bellowed one word. HAIL. This, he thought, would be enough to make his troops shiver with excitement. Even he was shocked at how easily his people were manipulated into believing that he, himself, Arch-Noble Acestrial, is a God! He attempted to hide a chuckle.
As he walked down from the podium into the black and bruised building behind him, he heard his soldiers cheering. Immediately as he closed the doors, he was approached by a myriad of military advisors. All of them looked the same. Small. Mouse-like. Scavenging for a shard or scrap of power. He snapped his heels together and barked "One at a time! I understand that I have just declared war on a long lost enemy, Mizzlier, and I also understand that this is huge decision, in which I need all of your guidance." All of the advisors nodded and puttered into a single-file line.
The first advisor seemed promising. Because of this, out of now-where, Acestrial simply dismissed the rest of the advisors. The advisor that he kept seemed pleased with himself, and immediately unfolded a large map onto Acestrial's desk. The advisor muttered, "Look here, O great one, this is the way to success, this is the way to the reclamation of our land."
Acestrial leaned over his desk and viewed the huge map. He gulped and said, "You are suggesting that we invade.... tomorrow?"
The advisor smiled and nodded. Acestrial thought for a moment. He silently nodded as well and shook the advisors hand.
