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Plot is Really Secondary

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said as he crashed through the oversized wooden double doors of Judge Krill’s chambers. “It might be very bad for business.”

Krill turned away from the girl he was molesting to admire the girl’s boyfriend, the hero, for making it past his overly extravagant phalanx of personal bodyguards. He had thought them quite invincible, what with the blinding drugs they were on to take away all thoughts except obey and fight for him. Krill was impressed and he said so.

“I’m impressed.”
“This has gone on for too long,” said the hero, tearing off what was left of his shirt to expose his blood and sweat soaked pectorals, rippling in all the fury of strained musculature. He was confident, but he also knew the judge’s extensive history: 15 years in KGB, 12 more in American Special Forces, and now, head of both the judge’s seat in the highest court in the land and the most powerful and ruthless crime syndicate in the world. Krill may look old, but you could guarantee the dude still packed a punch; you may not be able to see it, but beneath those black robes stood a body carved out of pure rock. The countless henchmen were nothing compared to Krill. They had all attacked him clumsily and always one at a time, consistently. They watched friend after friend fall in the heat of battle, but insisted on waiting their turn to take their vengeance. In addition, the drugs generally made them make poor choices. They were easy. Krill would be harder.

Judge Krill’s chambers were a little on the gaudy side: mahogany everywhere, curtains flapping in a slight breeze coming from somewhere, a large open wood floor, swords on the wall, a globe the size of a small cottage, various other obstacles lay strewn about the room. Gaudy, but he could afford it. Up till now, only the hero stood between him and world domination through drug trafficking and assassinations of the line of presidential succession. He had killed the President and the Vice, now all that was left was the Speaker. And once the Speaker was dead, it would be over. Which is why he now had her tied up in his chambers. The one flaw in his plan was this hero, an ex-New York detective who had recently been a top Presidential bodyguard, and who was dating the Speaker of the House. He was there for the presidential hit, and he soon put all the pieces together through an arduous process of ass-kicking and evidence collecting. He now had enough evidence to bring down Krill, but that was never going to happen.

So he’d have to bring him down some other way. And that other way was killing Krill, hard.

Krill turned his back on the hero to remove his robes, exposing a smart suit and tie, then he turned back around and attempted one final option before killing the hero -

“You must be an amazing fighter,” he said. “But before you start throwing fists at me, I want you to think about something, namely what are you fighting for?”

“For freedom, for democracy…”

“But what does that mean? Freedom… Democracy… Love… they’re all just words. Words expressing concepts. Concepts which really mean nothing. Can’t you see?”

The hero looked incredulous.

“The things that really mean something are the vices: money, power, sex,” as he said this, he brushed a hand against the Speaker’s cheek. “We’re not so different, you and I. We both fight for something. Our ideologies. Our worldviews. We both fight to keep our world from crumbling around us. We fight to maintain what we believe to be necessary.”

He looked pensive, but still angry.

“The truth is, I’m getting old. After I’ve instated my empire, I will probably not last very much longer, and I need someone to be an heir. I need someone with ideologies, someone who’s not afraid to fight, someone who will protect my empire. Someone like… you.”

“But why would anyone want to protect an empire of crime?”

“Don’t you see? Joining the world into one world order is an end to war! To Hunger! To Strife! We can fix the epidemics in the nations with low GDP’s because we can share GDP’s! The third world will join with the first and we’ll change it. We’ll make it better! More beautiful!”

“But at what cost?”

“A few lives here and there of mostly corrupt politicians. But these lives pale in comparison to the lives we’ll save! Can’t you see it? A bright, new future.”

The hero paused to think. His next line better be a zinger.

“When President Michaelson stood on the docks in Brooklyn and looked out at the harbor, he pointed to Lady Liberty,” the hero spoke calmly and airily, “and he said, ‘This nation was built on her, and on the promise of her.’ The idea that people can be free, to live, to breath, to love. That’s what freedom means. And also he was my father.” It wasn’t the best line in the world, but at least he got everything in there.

Infuriated, Krill tried one more time.

“JOIN ME!”

“Join yourself in hell!”

With this, they launched into a brilliant trade of fists and kicks, each placing their attacks in a well-coordinated, nearly choreographed manner. Punches were blocked, landed, and returned. Grapples ended in a man being thrown like a horseshoe at whatever was around them. They took down the swords and began sword-fighting with the proficiency of old pros.

After a good couple of minutes of intense fighting, neither side gaining much ground on the other, Krill finally decided to try the fighting style he was best at: dirty fighting. He ran over to the Speaker and held her with his saber at her throat. The hero stopped cold.

“Who’s got the upper hand now?” said the judge maniacally. “Put down your sword.”

The hero thought for a moment before deciding to throw his sword at the judge in one last attempt to save the world. It went whizzing over his right shoulder. The judge laughed insanely, but then he heard the sound of the giant globe rolling towards him. The hero had thrown the sword into the globe, loosening it from its moorings and sending it crashing down towards Krill. As Krill turned to see his fate and feel the crushing weight of the world, the hero leaped up and pushed the Speaker out of harm’s way, getting his ankle caught slightly beneath the rolling globe and instantly breaking his foot. But at least it was all over now.

In excruciating pain, he crawled over to his girlfriend and loosened her ropes with his good hand. She embraced him and kissed him hard to show her appreciation, then she picked him up and helped him hobble out the oversized wooden double doors of the judge’s chambers. Out into the sunlight of glorious American freedom, the gloriously bright future, and a huge crowd which had gathered just outside the doors. Read more...