Don't correct my grammar because I have no respect for this language.
…
2004/7/7
An interview occurred in a 10x20 meter wide studio, and snow-white drones brightened up the place with yellow light, as they floated about like pearls in the sea.
On the pitch black walls of the studio were scarlet curtains that swung with the strong winds.
And around this fancy space, multiple workers sauntered around. They were busy managing the various audio-visual equipments scattered across the place. However, something peculiar happened as they did their jobs, the technicians skillfully avioded the center of the room.
In the middle, two individuals: one old; one young, conversed. The conversation they were having escalated as the clock ticked.
"They are infidels, vigilantes, and crooks; these heroes are the end of human civilization and a sin against god and race," a wrinkly old man said, his voice firm. He had finally gained the courage to speak his mind, and today was the day.
The old man took multiple deep breaths and continued: "They have taken our jobs, our fate… And our culture! What's next…? Are they going out to take—our lives?"
"No, and what? We are going off track, Mr. Gerald... The question was about Hastro-Man and your thoughts about his duties and creed." The young man began to sweat rapidly, with his pupils dilating.
His job depended on this interview's success.
"Yes, you are correct. But why do we need to know these things about— Hastro-Man?
"Why do WE worship and revere him like we would gods? Exactly, so let me tell you something.
"We Gerocians no longer need heroes…"
The young man paused, and he thought about what Gerald said. He was out of it for a couple of seconds; however, he saw a man give him the cutthroat sign from the sides: it was his boss.
He signed, before shaking his head to kill off any unsavory thoughts. "I understand where you are coming from, sir. Your wife died of a rogue superhero, correct?"
A string was pulled at that simple statement. "Yes—"
The young interviewer coughed and adjusted his glasses. "But it does not mean that every-one of them is inherently the same!"
"There is no bias in my beliefs," Gerald muttered, ignoring the stinging pain in his heart.
He continued. "The incident might have hurt me, but it also revealed how bad the status quo is..."
"What about the people saved by them…? Are you saying that they should have been left for dead?"
The young man said as a horrified expression made it on his face.
"I am not against their heroic acts, no. I am against our reaction to their heroic arts!" The man's voice raised to tits highest. "We aren't meant to make a religion out of them; neither are we supposed to make laws that favor them!"
The old Gerocian hands flashed and pointed to the drone and said: "I urge you all to please stand up. And take back our country and freedom from these so-called heroes! Or they shall be the end of us!"
He stood up, straightened his shirt, and walked away: banging the door and leaving the interviewer flabbergasted.
…
2009/ 8/ 9
A new location appeared. It was a wide clearing filled with thousands of citizens in matching yellow clothes, bright lights that glistened like the sun on an afternoon beach, and black-white Georgia flags that swayed with the hot breeze—The people were cheering as they witnessed their idol on the stage.
Soon, the view of a well-dressed lady with a suit was seen on a helicopter, eloquently narrating the current state of events: "Today… we are here to witness the inauguration of marvelous Hastro-man as the President of Gerocia!"
As she kept talking, her slender face took a fanatic expression, and her breath more and more disordered.
"Turn the camera," she whispered to the cameraman, causing the view to shift from her and toward the main event on the ground.
At the back of a deep-brown podium, Hastro-man was giving a speech. He had a muscular frame like that of a lean bodybuilder, and wore gold spandex that glistened like a vault of gold bars.
Hastra-man smiled, making his sharp features stand out even more. And he said, "I solemnly swear to dutifully execute the Office of President of Gerocia to the best of my ability... and maintain, safeguard, and defend the Constitution of the 7 Tenants."
After he finished his oath, screams descended on the Black House grounds . The hails arrived louder and louder, and white light illuminated the morning like a weapon test site.
The hero raised his hands to the air to take in their cheers, causing the celebration raise more and more.
In a few minutes, a drop of water fell to the ground. Shortly after, it was followed by countless others, tapping onto the ground in a beautiful symphony. It was a new day—a new era—a new beginning, and it was also—
—
—
—the end.