Yet Another Wicked #NSA Story (Part 1)
Once upon a time in a democratic country far far away, there lived an evil Dark Lord. A man born in the deepest of hells, cast into the mortal world by powers unknown jealous of us. His darkness was only dwarfed by his powers of persuasion. He was so evil, it’s said, that any man who went near him would start living his darkest nightmares. He could smell the faintest dark thoughts in men around him, and with one look of his grey eyes, those thoughts would grow in them, till evil was all that’s left. His hands were never too cold for knives, and through his deceits and trickery, any man who might have voiced words against him, would simply vanish. Even worse was that he was no ordinary evil. He cast himself as the necessary evil, to those who could stand against him. Before anyone knew it, he had killed and bribed his way into a position, more powerful than any had held in that country.
Despite his powers, deep beneath he knew how weak he was, put next to the power of the crowd. He was so afraid that the people would rise against him, that he took the services of a man called Spider. The man was an eunuch born with five eyes, born in the slums of the Capitol Hill. But over the years, he had built a network of spies all over the nation, listening to what the people were talking. The Eagle and the Spider were so powerful together that even ordinary people could see that something was amiss, but never could spot what it was. Years passed and the Eagle’s clutches deepened across the nation, and it appeared as though none could ever point a finger against him.
But even as time slept, a young boy named Snow, whose father was a goat-herd killed by one of Spider’s goons, did not. He was dragged back to Fort Mead the night his father died, where his cries ringed across the dungeons and fell to the ears of the Eagle. ‘Kill the singer of that song’, he ordered his dogs. And as the boy was dragged to his feet, the Dark Lord saw the eyes of the boy and shuddered. He staggered back as a ray of light struck deep into the cavern where his heart should have been, and felt pain like never before. Even as he was helped up to his Throne, he ordered the guards to ‘Take the boy to Spider. That will teach him’.
Nobody ever knew what happened to the boy, and none remembered, but for the Dark Lord. In his dreams, the boy was the sole guest, and in it’s eyes, pain was the sole gift. Too afraid had he become of the boy, that he convinced himself that it was a lie, that his mind was telling him.
Years later in a shabby pub in the valley of the Capitol Hills, the story continued.