They call me a villain, a criminal - a monster.

A traitor.

But I am none of those things: I am an inferno, a cleansing light, a necessary governance. I am a bastion of flame that shines against an oppressive darkness, whether they can see it or not.

But it wasn't always this way. There was a time where I hopeful, naive. I longed for a future that could not exist. I fought and I bled - I dreamed and I wept - I sacrificed and I gave - but I hoped.

I do not hope anymore.

Hope is for the ignorant and the foolhardy. There is no word more deceiving than hope. It is a facade, it carries on like the blanket of a dream in the wind, and flows through your fingers all the same.

When you say that you wish, or that you hope; you place what could be in the palms of somebody else. It is a lie, for if you want it, if you want to change something - you have to step out of the darkness and do it yourself.

I fought for a system I believed. I did not fight for me, I fought for what I thought we could all be. What I hoped for. But I am not we, and the system was not us.

It churned through the motions. A status quo was its ocean and mediocrity was its currents. To ride atop the crest of its waves gave you direction and the simulated sense of movement but you did not move, and things did not change.

For years I wasted away, I toiled and fought. In the end though, I looked back and I realised that the world was no better with me in it than without. The same problems in the same places, so much effort, yet I had solved nothing.

So I left and struck out alone. I shed the organisation that controlled me, that contained me. To try and do right.

For the first time in a long time things are clear - there are people who need me.

And to those that that stand in my way?

They will burn.

You FOOLS!

​

I *warned* you what would happen if you elected those moronic [political party]s, but did you listen? NO, you bought their lies and look what happened!

​

Once [low level elected official with minimal actual power] stole power from the People, this day was inevitable. Everything has gone to shit under their totalitarian rule. Traffic is worse. The kids don't pay attention in school. The stores can't get any [item discontinued by manufacturer three years ago].

​

And now... this

​

Tom and Jane Smith were the pillars of this community, and they lie dead - dead because of the mismanagement of that *monster* you fools support. They are..

​

I don't *care* that my three minutes are up! Try to take this mike away from me, sonny, and you're going to regret it

​

The Smiths would still be alive if [candidate that received 18% of the vote in the primary] were in charge. A man of strength! A man of honor!

​

*He* could have stopped this madness! He would have seen this coming, and put a stop to it! [Tom and Jane Smith died in an auto accident. The losing candidate in question had offered no policies related to traffic, and would not have the ability to implement them even if they had]

​

I hope you're all satisfied with what you've done. May you all rot in hell for your crimes against this community

The long sandy road Max had taken all these years now stood alone, the town it belonged to now charred and blackened. While walking past the stone arch painted in soot, he gazed mindlessly at the town that used to be. All he could think of was smoke. The smell made him light-headed while the heat singed his eyes.

"If only you had listened to me, we would have lived. We could have rejoiced in a new town with endless feasts and dances. We could have drunk till the reaper came to us, we could have all lived but you...you all!" Max threw up his arms and yelled in exasperation.

"You all thought I was mad! You all said I had a sip too much! You all scolded me for spreading lies! I might've been a fool drunk, but I am not a fool sober! I warned you all, I saw the demon emerge from the forbidden cave, I saw it spawn hellfire and flame and poison from its mouth.

"I saw the deer and rabbits and sparrows run without a look back. I saw the trees try to escape their roots! I know they want to live, but you fools thought you were too smart!"

"What did you all say? "Oh Max, we live near water, fire cannot hurt us!" or "Oh foolish Max, the demon in the cave is a child's story!"" In a fit of rage, Max picked up a smoldering plank and threw it aimlessly.

"The druid spoke of the guardian's emergence and called me immature. What shall the guardian do when the people don't guard themselves?! The guardian lived in those animals and birds, not in you all, you idiots!"

He looked to the large obelisk and yelled, "Chieftain, oh chieftain! I thought you were the smartest of us all, yet you sat there playing the fiddle as the village burned! I pulled your hand over and over to show you and you refused to move!"

Max's voice began to choke. Clutching his hair, he whimpered, "We could all have lived....". he turned to a pile of ash by his side and cried," I wonder who you were. I wonder what life you would have lived instead of feeding the earth."

Max collapsed on the blackened ground and held his head between his legs. Unable to control himself anymore, he bawled loudly without anyone there to hear him.

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Iwatani Naofumi (Shield Hero) vs Maple (Bofuri)

"So..."

She screams.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Why aren't you unconscious?"

I shrug as much as the bindings allow me. "Did you mess up the dosage?"

She stares at me for a second. I make a popping sound with my lips, looking around.

"I guess the candles and rope threw me off. Totally misread what was going on here, didn't I?"

"Big time. You are not my type. But she will love you." My date, who introduced herself as Tabitha but might have been lying about that as she did about everything else, points at a statue of a woman.

"I'm not a virgin, by the way."

"What are you talking about?"

I clear my throat. "If you need a virgin sacrifice. It won't work. I'm not a virgin."

She laughs. "I didn't think you were a virgin."

"Ok, that's great. Cause I'm not."

"Ok"

"Ok"

There's an awkward pause. The sound of a mortar fills the air for a couple seconds.

"She'll like you because you are a linguist, by the way." Tabitha is trying to make conversation. I appreciate it, it's not like I can do a lot while tied down, so at least we can talk. She continues. "You have no idea how hard it is to find someone in your field. No one puts it in their bio! What am I supposed to do?"

"You could have made a false work ad, couldn't you? Would have had the linguists coming to you."

"Oh." She leaves the mortar and looks at me. "Didn't thought of that."

"Kinda wish you did." I shrug again. We laugh. Our conversations usually went smoothly. We have a lot in common. Not everything, of course, but we have a similar sense of humor.

"Ok, seriously." I ask her. "What's in this for you?"

"Power, mostly. She gives boons to people that send her good sacrifices."

"Bullshit. How do you even know that?"

"Excuse me?" She puts her hands on her waist, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Don't try to tell me you've done this before. You barely knocked me out and you've been stirring that mortar ever since I woke up. It's mush already, there's no point in stomping on it anymore. You are just trying to kill time while you re-read your ritual notes."

She blushes. "Not!"

"You have your phone right there. I can see it from over here."

She covers it with her hand.

"And what's that font size? Are you blind?"

"Yes, I am. I was wearing glasses our whole date!"

"Oh" I must admit, I don't remember that.

"Come on, dude, really?" I smile briefly, but she is not buying it. "Do you even remember what I'm wearing under this cloak?"

She spreads her arms. I think I see a glint of white in the hood. Was she wearing a white top? Jeans? I can't remember. She is waiting for an answer, I won't get out of this one.

"White top, flower pattern, jean shorts." Even to myself I don't sound convincing. She sighs and turns away.

"You are all the same."

"Oh, don't be like that! I have a lot in my mind right now."

We laugh again.

"Hey, last thing, I promise."

"Uh-hm" she doesn't turn back to me.

"Next time, do a better job on the knots."

She drops the mortar and phone, rushing over to check on my hands. They are still tied up tight, so ss she gets close, I headbutt her in the nose. She falls on her ass, bleeding, but gets up quickly.

"What was that?!"

"Not gonna lie, I was really hoping you'd pass out."

"That's not how any of this works!"

"Sorry, it's my first time headbutting someone into unconsciousness!"

She lifts her face and holds her nose with two fingers. Her voice sound messed up. "Who am I to complain, right? You should be unconscious too."

We laugh again, and she chokes a bit on the blood.

That's when the police knock down her door, guns blazing and what not. I would only learn a neighbor saw her dragging me in later. For now, I'm panicking and screaming as much as everyone else.

Tabitha doesn't put up much of a fight, mostly because I weakened her. A mustachioed officer unbinds me, and asks:

"Are you alright?"

"Not my worst date, stay off Tinder my dude."

I laughed at multiple points here, haha. This would be fun to act.

And they were all blue

See - u/MikeColorado - the author ADMITS it.
I`m just defenseless against onions.

You`re stronger than I am.

But, in my defense, author MUST have been chopping onions somewhere..

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Seconded - wholeheartedly.
And yes, VERY much so .. his legacy ripples on!

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Sure do

Wait, I remember now. I'm single.

[removed]

I'll skip the panicking. It doesn't translate well to text. I wish it did, because then maybe the next part would too. I can't skip the next part. It's a big deal.

The next part is the part where the concept of "I" broke down completely. "I" died. For a few confusing moments, "I" lived after "I" died. Then "I" experienced a fascinating new kind of death. It was eerily smooth. It was ice melting, but not into water. It was ice melting into - no, to become - gasoline, in defiance of all natural laws. A transition that should not have been possible, was.

"I" was gone. I was back.

Then something even stranger happened: ice cubes dropped down into the gasoline. Right away, I and "I" both became something new. I could feel the ice melting and the gasoline getting chilly. I was becoming something new again, every single moment.

"So, that is what your life would be like," the voice intoned. "Do you want to be born?"

People talk up epiphanies. They're a party drug, to hear tell. Well, let me tell you something: not every epiphany is fun. My epiphany, right then, was that the people in charge of that shitshow were complete fucking idiots.

"Seriously?" I shouted. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

"Yes," the voice said. "We get that a lot."

Men and women materialized. Their identifiability as-such felt quite intentional: the personal touch on something profoundly inhuman. They took great care with me. I shook them off - first literally, and then symbolically. I was starting to remember. They backed off, and waited expectantly. I sighed. For one of my last acts before the delusion of humanity and corporeality wore off, it was fitting. It summed things up nicely.

"You don't have to do that anymore," I said. "I remember enough."

The men and women dematerialized. They were vibrating light, and then they were gone. I was vibrating light. I no longer sensed or perceived as a human. Space became eminently negotiable. Time, not so much. It's funny; "I" had been a big reader. Lots of sci-fi and fantasy. All the stuff about time travel was common ground. Neither humans nor we, the unpronouncable, could manage it. It was a bare-minimum price, it seemed, for an ordered existence.

I half wished there were more overlaps like that. Those ice cubes were still melting. I was no longer pure gasoline. I never would be again.

SELF: Do you even need me to outline the laundry list of fundamental issues with what you're asking me?

OTHER: Not really, no. We simply need to know if you're willing to take the job.

SELF: What number would I be?

OTHER: Three million, seven hundred thousand, five hundred forty-six.

SELF: Definition of insanity?

OTHER: Definition of scientific progress, halfway between inquiry and application.

And with that, they found - or simply struck anew - the weak spot. Science. Fuckin' science. I loved it.

SELF: Fine. I'm in.

OTHER: Seven spare cycles is the predicted ideal. There are no restrictions on your behavior.

SELF: Lovely.

It made sense. They wanted the information to spread. Your philosopher Nagel adroitly commented that a man simply cannot know what it is like to be a bat. Even so, there's something to be said for pushing stories and ideas that are closer to "bat" than they are to "purely human." It's priming. You push to stretch - plasticity. It's not a binary; it's right there in the term itself.

Seven cycles later, I died. "I" was born - except "I" wasn't, because you're reading this story. For the first time ever, some gasoline made it through the great filter.

With no sarcasm whatsoever: I hope to see "you" on the other side. Maybe someday, somehow, stripped of quotation marks and qualifiers, gloriously naked, free, and whole, some I and some you will truly meet.

But then, isn't that just another way to drop ice into gasoline?

More fun, though, I think. Yes. Definitely more fun.

[removed]

A very deserved one.