Compelled - Part One: Arrival

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A three part science fiction short story. Don't really want to spoil anything with a description so you'll just have to read this short introduction part to find out more. Don't worry, the other parts will be much longer.
Warning: This is not meant to offend anyone but I fear it could offend anyone, so if you are easily offended, don't read.

Submitted: June 18, 2014

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Submitted: June 18, 2014

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Soundtrack for part one: Legion by ADN Compositions

Morthol, the most powerful man in the world, stood at the center of the stadium. An assassin would think him an easy target if not for the kinetic shielding and his army of security.

“Listen, my people!” he exclaimed. I rolled my eyes at his overabundant sense of drama. “The people of Toro have suffered under the influence of Neria for too long. I say, we strike at the heart of their empire, tonight!” The people cheered. And just like that, he started a war. Within a few hours, Neria would be crippled by an outburst of civil war. Within a few days, it would be controlled by Toro.

How does this clown have so much power? I wondered. Most governments hated him, even his own, not that they would publicly admit it. That’s why he had so much security. There had to be at least a dozen assassins watching him, waiting for a chance to strike.

I looked around the stadium, spotting two of the assassins and at least four more who were also likely here to kill the great Morthol. I have a gift with this sort of thing. I’m not magical or anything, just highly perceptive. I could of course warn security about these assassins but what’s the point? I didn’t like him anymore than they did. I just didn’t feel the need to murder him in a stadium full of his biggest fans.

My name is Arania. I am a trained assassin, keeping an eye on the most powerful people in the world. But like I said, I didn’t feel the need to kill Morthol. For now.

Sparks started flying out of nowhere at the center of the stadium. I pulled out my binoculars to get a better look. Morthol jumped away from the sparks. He’s not as tough and brave as people think. The sparks came more quickly. They started to spin, like some show at a festival. They then spread apart and a red disk formed, shooting off small bolts of electricity. Every member of security and even the assassins, fourteen of them apparently, I was sloppy with my estimates, had a gun trained on the strange phenomena.

Out stepped a man, tall, beautiful, strong. Bullets flew at him from every direction but bounced off his flawless skin. When the disk had vanished and everyone was out of bullets, other than me because apparently I was the only person here who wasn’t trigger happy- who knew?- he looked around. Security dropped their weapons. After only a few seconds all the men in the stadium started cheering and the women sighed.

His eyes found mine, for only a fraction of a second and I ran to him, compelled by some unknown force. I wasn’t the only one. I had to jump over hundreds of people to get close to him. Most people were stopped by the wall at the bottom of the stands but I got over it with ease.

The man looked surprised by the response at first, but slowly his surprise faded, replaced by a warm smile. I, and a small group of others, got to him. Several girls brushed up against him and the men stood a couple feet or so away from him, awkwardly yelling “Yeah!” and pumping their fists, apparently not really sure what to do. I didn’t brush up against him like the other girls, worried that I may displease him by being too pushy. Morthol was there with the men, also apparently unsure of how to react, but trying none-the-less.

“My name is Prosaus,” he said in an angel’s voice, and everyone within earshot nearly fainted.

I don’t know why we were drawn to this strange man like this. We were simply… compelled.


© Copyright 2020 James Clawk. All rights reserved.

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