We the People.
The year is 2017...
A great many things have bolstered notice and attention from the people of the United States. Most frightening among those things, the state of which the country has fallen into...
As we begin to span over a scene of darkness and despair, a rugged and burnt landscape of pit fires and homeless filling the leaking sewer like streets of Washington D.C. The nation’s capital now a desolate home for survivors and refugee from what had put this nation into the throws of the war, that long since past. An ugly shroud is heavily inferred from the looks on the people’s faces and what seems to have manifested itself into a physically depressed sickness. Most enslaved to this feeling, a few hopefuls still cling and grasp to one belief...The Truth
Running thru an alleyway, Tom. A boy born into a man, 22 years of age he maneuvers clumsily but at a quick sharp pace. Tripping over garbage bumping into the people inhabiting the alley, keeping his balance he runs toward and opens an unseen paved covered door which is hidden into the wall of a building. The building once painted white resembles an old dirty metallic handrail color and freckled with white chips. Tom, slows his pace takes a deep breath, straightening and shaking off his tattered overcoat.
We come to view a meeting of well-dressed men, in a fire, stoked room of distinguished and grand high ceilings with a descending darkness about them. Echoing the crackling fire and conversation of men below, as they discuss, into the hollowness of the ceilings above. Tom, enters the scene, Several Bearded men most notably much older than Tom are seated around an oval shaped table. Each man wearing an overcoat like Tom’s but the older gentlemen coats are decorated with medals and pins of metal and ribbons. In a smokey deep voice, welcomes Tom, “Thomas... great to see you hold punctuality in such high respect.” A few men laugh and chuckle quietly Tom “Alexander” nodding, “I apologize gentlemen, but I have seem to have lost track of time. Please, resume.”
Alexander, motions with is hand for Tom to take a seat and resumes the conversation. “Rumors I have heard here in D.C. the one of which disturbs me greatly...” He coughs clearing his throat, grunting he stares back to the men seated around the table with ferocity pivoting his gaze. The fire illuminating his face, flickering and dancing in the pupils of his eyes. Clenching his hands into fists before growling, “Treason...”
Alexander stands up abruptly with his fists knuckles faced down “A new group is forming, with its only intention being, plans to undermine any possibility of reformation.” “We will not, cannot allow this to happen!”
