Before peace, war. Before light, darkness. Before order, chaos.
These were the thoughts that ran through Chief Null as he pressed on towards the next mansion – to fulfil the ultimate mission of Null – equality throughout all.
The Chief Null stepped forward to run his hands through the wrought iron bars of the gate. He is dressed in an ethereal white robe, stretching to the ground, and rippling smoothly with his every step.
His head is masked in a full grey mesh helmet, hiding any definable features. There were two others, standing on either side of the Chief Null – all of them dressed the same – same mask, same robes, same height and stature.
The imposing mansion rose in front of them, with an elaborate driveway and a grand fountain centred in front of the double-doored entrance. It was just one of the many residences located in this formerly premium estate.
The three Nulls nodded to one other in silent mutual agreement. One of them stepped forward and unsheathed a pulsing cylinder from within his robes, placing it onto the hinges of one of the great gates.
Several seconds passed before there was a burst of smoke and a metallic hiss.
The Chief Null kicked, and the gate fell inwards with a loud bang.
They continued onwards, boots clicking on the pebble stone path. A black-suited man with an earpiece ran towards them, his sidearm raised. He yelled, but the Chief Null brought him to his knees with a swift kick, the quiet cough of a silenced pistol. Security had been disarmed.
The Nulls entered the mansion once more. Breaking through the doors with pulse charges.
Luxurious bedrooms, grand foyers, and bathrooms the size of small flats all turned up empty with no signs of life. Had its residents escaped? Impossible.
This was proven by the subtle ping of the infrared sensor on the Null’s helmet.
Two floors up, in the west attic, the occupants were dragged screaming from their hiding spots, down into the main hall.
The Nulls sat them down violently on the plush sofa and the chief sat opposite, with the other two on guard.
The bedraggled family consisted of a girl, no older than 15, a woman, and a man. The woman was dressed in a floral dress, with her meticulously styled hair now messed up. Her makeup was smeared, and she had been crying.
The man was in a bespoke suit, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a pair of leather shoes. His exquisite watch was cracked, and his hair out of shape.
The chief stepped forward, speaking. Both of them held their daughter tightly, who was staring at her parents in fear.
“Ada Wordsworth,” his voice monotonous, robotic, “under the purge ordered by the new Null government, you and your family, Michael and Dorothy Wordsworth, have been sentenced to reconditioning. Your immense wealth threatens the equality of this new world. You and your kind must be cleansed to restore it.”
With that, one of the Nulls stepped forth and gripped the struggling girl tightly. Her parents cried in despair, but they were restrained. A syringe of clear liquid was injected swiftly into her neck, and the girl slumped forward, disabled.
By now, her parents were clutching each other in terror and shouting.
“Monsters! What have you done to our little gi-” her father was interrupted by a quick needle jab too, and he fell to the carpet, emotionless.
The only one left was the mother, who had now calmed herself and fixed an indignant glare on the Chief Null.
“You can murder us, but you won’t take our legacy away,” she said proudly.
“Remember, you’re messing with our bloodline.”
A small pause and the chief replied monotonously.
“We’re not… murdering you. Reconditioning would be a better term.”
With that, the liquid flowed into her brain.
The three Nulls walked away from the three resting bodies without glancing back.
Before peace, war; before light, darkness; before order, chaos. These were the thoughts that ran through Chief Null as he pressed on towards the next mansion – to fulfil the ultimate mission of Null – equality throughout all.
The girl woke up with a faint hum ringing in her ears. She groaned as she got off a hard mattress, dressed in a plain grey shirt and pants. There was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal a smiling woman, also in the same attire.
“Ada,” the woman said kindly, holding out a white school bag.
“Come now, sweetheart. It’s time for your school.”
The girl followed obediently, coming out into a cramped living area. A bowl of bright yellow cereal and milk stood on the dining table, and her mother watched over her, smiling widely.
Once she finished, the girl strapped on her bag and the main door slid open to a corridor.
The corridor stretched on endlessly, with grey walls, grey floors, and grey doors sliding open to the uniform sound of children walking to school.
Her dad stood outside in grey plainclothes, a broom in hand, sweeping the floor along with hundreds of other men lining the corridor.
The girl looked back. Her father had stopped sweeping and waved back.
This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Twentytwo13.
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