Dystopia

“The thing about the Gods is they don’t give two flying fu–.”

“Issac! Ssh! The police will have your head if they hear you.” Rosetta raised an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes at her.

“I’m only telling the truth you know.” He clenched his teeth and stood, gun in hand, with an agonised groan. “They could put a stop to all of this in the blink of an eye.” he continued, raising his voice. “But they don’t. And you know why don’t you?” he headed for the edge of the canyon. “Because this is a game to them.” Issac sighed wiping a bandaged hand across his brow. “This is all a joke to you, isn’t it? You’re looking down at us laughing!” The sky above yielded no response. Rosetta could see a throng of people approaching from the guard station.

“Blasphemer. Code red. Canyon edge. Back up ASAP.” Officer Raimes spat into the radio and broke into a run with his other officers, forming a semi circle around Issac, guns aiming for merciless headshots.

“Solider, name, now.” Officer Raimes demanded. Issac laughed manically. Raimes repeated his demand.

“Alphas Band, sir. Issac Delaware.” Rosetta piped up from her position, standing to give salute. “Possible signs of Delirium, sir.” Issac chuckled again, throwing his rifle off of the edge. It fell soundlessly.

“Solider, report.” Raimes inclined his head in Rosetta’s direction.

“Delaware has thirteen years of service Officer. Previously posted in New York. Fought in last year’s battle, receiving honour and injury. Shipped here to Canyon five months ago.”

“And you?”

Rosetta gulped audibly.

“Z-Branded sir,” her gaze fell to the floor. “Miss Rosetta–”, she stammered but Raimes had lost all interest.

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