New World Order: Prologue, Part Three

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

Without altering his course, the man brushed by the human obstruction and with a negligible hand gesture sent him spiraling to the ground.

More hands reached out for him trying to take hold of anything they could. When they found something to hang on to, a belt, a wrist, his cape, they attempted to use their body weight to slow him down. It didn't work. The man's stride never slowed.

This was not how he wanted his grand entrance to go. His first appearance would not be one where he arrived covered in insects. It wouldn't take any effort to put them down but that would take time, and he was on a strict schedule. Dawn was upon him.

On his next step, he bent his knees and leaped high into the air. Most of the attached hands let go in surprise or some sense of self-preservation. Screams of fear and pain came from the owners of the ones that didn't let go. These were silenced in the ground shaking impact of his landing.

Gunfire erupted behind him.

They felt like aggressive taps--mere annoyances.

He smiled.

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Inspired by (sequel to):

The child babbled something in a language that the man didn't understand and ran off, calling out in…

New World Order: Prologue, Part Two

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