Joe the Homeless Guy

A flash of light... A bolt of pain... The world is ending. Men have lost the fight.
Years ago every company, business, and group consolidated their assets into one corporation, creating a super monopoly on every producer. For the first time the consumer was at the feet of the producer. This producer took advantage of this control, bashing away monopoly laws, buying land, implanting their agents into important government positions, becoming the government. This corporation, BITECH, soon rose above the restrictions of the state becoming a totalitarian group. It exerted it's control over everything, everything it consumed was in an effort to raise profits.
They announced their claim to all worldly assets on the day now known as The Day of Proclamation. Anarchy broke out that day. The corporation's cognitive mind saw it beforehand, dividing each country into districts, clearig out dissedents one at a time. The riots only helped their attainment of power as people placed their trust in the savior of cities.
Thos who did not follow the corporation were left to rot. They were unable to own land or buy goods. They were dead to everyone affiliated with BITECH. They were also the start of a rebellion.
This rebellion of sorts had staged an attack on the main building of the corporation. They had sent in assasins to kill the CEO. The CEO was a tall man of medium build. His handsomeness was never asserted though. Noone could ever look directly at his face. He was an abhorrence of the human race, a perfect example of evil incarnate. A reprobate. His will was the will of the company, the company's will was the will of the world.
The rebels, being underfed and homeless, were motley in appearence and short in breath. The assasins, however, were fully rested and ready for their assignment. Oscar and Joe had long waited for this day, Joe especially. He had grown up under the rigid hand of BITECH and was ready to end his suffering, end his reminder of his hate. He had thrown down the cold impersonal touch of the corporation for the humane grip of the rebels.
In learning their ways his ambition had been stunted. Malignant and cancerous it eats at him everyday. He fights it though. He reinforces the idea of choice every morning. He has too. His well-being depends on it. He has made a living on being a deadbeat, on fighting the system. It is his responsibility. Does he abscond from it? No he takes it in stride, allowing his caste to take control, allowing his freedom of choice to take control. His society lives differently from that of the corporation. In that difference they developed a type of coalescence. They come together in their self-chosen dejection, in an attempt to overthrow ambition. Who needs self-fulfuillment when you lose your ability to effront? They believe that it is their right to be rebellious, to be a circle in square indention, to not fit. The funny thing about their predicament is that they have no goal other than the obliteration of ambition. After that they have no idea what they want. They are the closeminded revolutionaries, but they are fanatics. They believe in what they do. They pursue their goal with such a fervant intensity that they are a contradiction. Joe is a hypocrite. He is like many of his society. They declare their ambition banished, yet incidently their fight against it reinforces it.

Oscar and Joe walk quietly down the hall, letting the light flow past them, through them, they are ghosts and invisible. Oscar is scared, Joe can tell by the way he is shaking. This only reinforces Joes courage, his distaste for Oscar growing by the second. Step by step they walk towards the big blue door at the end of the hall. The motion detectors in corner are dead, an example of Joes ingenuity. Joe readys his gun. He wonders whether or not he should just kill the CEO. Capturing him would only slow their escape. The frontal attack was only enacted to distract most of the guards so Joe could fulfill his mission. It would useless to sacrifice lives to capture someone they would eventually kill anyway, might as well kill him now.

They reach the door. Its bigger than they suspected, hovering over them. Oscar murmurs, "We're almost free." Joe never thought it was a big deal to Oscar. Then again Joe never thought of Oscar.

Joe understands that this mission will end the corporation. The CEO is the head. There is no body, only arms. He is a brain that moves his appendiges through telepathic imagery. There is noone under him close enough to take up his job. He managed years ago to distance any human being far away from him. He is a walking anonymity. He is an unknown. The men and women who work for him don't even know him. Just like the arms follow the brain, they follow blindly.

Joe and Oscar inspect the door, lookin for a way in. Unexpectadly the door slides open. Bang!!! Oscar's head explodes into a medley of brain matter and blood. Joe fires his gun randomly into the dark abyss in front of him. He must complete his mission, he must be free. With that thought he ventures inside.

Again Joe becomes a ghost, merging into the wall, becoming the wall. He stands still for what feels like ages, looking for some kind of movement, looking for the reason Oscar's head was just blasted away. No sign of anything. Joe waits a little longer, with every minute passing, his fear rising.

The lights come on suddenly, blinding Joe for a moment. He raises his gun, blocking the light. When he lowers it, he sees him. The CEO is sitting in a black leather chair behind a brown mahagony desk. He is holding a lit cigar in one hand and a handgun in the other. With the handgun pointed at Joe he stands up. Joe immediatly notices his eyes. They are completely black, completely devoid of life and compassion, capitalism at its finest, ambition. But this isnt capitalism, this is supremacy. Joe's fortitude is beginning to wear down already.

The CEO opens his mouth and hisses, letting his forklike tongue roll out of past his lips. The he speaks. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? Are you here to kill me? You aren't doing a very good job." He walks over towards Joe, motions with his hands for Joe to drop the gun. Joe lets the hunk of metal slip out of his hands. "Kick it over to me" the CEO commanded. Joe kicks the gun with his left foot, right foot planted, ready to lunge. The CEO's eyes look down for a moment. Joe dives. The CEO notices at the last moment and gets a shot in before Joe grips his hands around the CEO's neck.

"I must be free." Joes strength failing he tries to end it quickly, but the CEO struggles.

"Free from what? If I may ask."

"Free from you."

"Why? I'm not that bad. You don't even know me."

"Not just you, what you represent."

"What I represent? Progression? You need to learn that the world evolves."

"Not progression, regression. I am not going to regress to the feudal age, allowing myself to be a serf to a landowner. I will choose my path."

"Tell me this then, what would make you not choose your path?"

"You. Your company. I would be delegated a job, losing my freedom."

"Freedom to choose?"

"Yes."

"You will be delegated a job that benefits the company as a whole and what benefits the company benefits the world. You do not wish that?"

"No."

"Then you are selfish."

"Selfish?"

"Yes, you care nothing about your fellow man, you only care about yourself. I've never understood your type. You build up your 'noble' cause in an attempt to get supporters, never realizing the supporters you are getting are just noncomformists, wanting to be opposed to something. In that opposition, they just conform in a different way. The real people, the majority, support the other side. Why? Have you ever asked yourself that question? Have you ever really thought about it? This is a stable way to live. We have plans for the future. What do you have? other than high-hearted dreams of this 'freedom'."

"We offer them choice."

"Choice to do what exactly? To choose their job? They chose this. We are more of a democracy than you are. You have this idea of freedom implanted in your head, deciding what you do, taking away your actual freedom. The people who work here live by ambition. You see them as drones, as mindless ants bringing food to the queen, well look at yourself. Who is your queen?"

Joe has no idea what to say. He was taught all his life that ambition was bad, that the corporation was bad, but now he's rethinking, rehashing, trying to fight freedom. He is free, he thinks to himself.

The door opens up and in comes a squad of soldiers. Joe hears a sound. It sounds like air being pressurized and released. Something bright blinds him. He feels a sting on his neck and everything goes dark.

A flash of light... A bolt of pain... The world has just begun. Men have decided to stop fighting.