Gemini Chapter 1: Heaven *ROUGH DRAFT*

         Angel sat in his room staring at the blank, grey, metal walls. His eyes scanned the four walls and the little furnishing he had. A large, metal framed bed with white sheets; an old wooden book shelf filled with hundreds of books; a metal closet standing opposite of the bed; a nightstand on the side of the bed with a small lamp; a large digital clock that read “7:30 AM”. Later that day he would be presented to millions of United Republic of Liberty citizens.
         Angel was the Chief General in Chancellor Vikter Roz’s U.R.L army. He was unlike any other general in the force, being that he was only 19 years old. He was a statuesque young man; he stood six feet and one inch off of the ground. He had jet black hair which he kept slicked back on his head. His eyes were a light blue and his gaze was crippling. He had the skills of any other highly ranked soldier, except he had something more.
         Angel was mutated by the U.R.L government while he was in the womb. This is why he held the highest position in the army; he had special abilities. Due to his mutation, he was able to move objects with his mind. This was the gift of one of his predecessors, Amari.
         Though he was able to use his powers effectively, he is still mastering this skill. He is able to lift his metal bed several feet off of the floor, or rip apart a car by just looking at it. His practice field is littered with broken and deformed cars, tanks, and any other metal object as well as shattered trees.
         He took his job very seriously, never straying from his purpose. He was steadfast, stern, harsh when he needed to be, and a great leader. But he also had a childlike kindness. If he ever unrooted a single flower during his training, he would stop everything and take time to replant the flower in his personal garden adjacent to the practice field.
         The day was August 6, 2336. Angel was to be presented to the masses as the Chief General that would win the war for the U.R.L. He walked the halls of the Chancellor’s palace with 12 soldiers following behind him. He wore the solid black suit that generals wore during formal events. His stride was long, he face ever stoic, his eyes never straying from his path. Chancellor Roz approached Angel, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously.
         Vikter Roz was a very tall, very round man of 60 with horribly dyed brown hair. He was obviously balding, with a bad comb over. His face always seemed to hungry and conniving, and his face glistened with sweat.
         “General Angel, are you ready to meet the people that you will be fighting for?”, he asked with a devilish grin on his face. Angel looked at him with his piercing blue eyes and answered sharply, “Am I not fighting for you as well, Chancellor? Are you not one of the citizens of this great country? I won’t question you, sir, only suggestion that you remember your humanity. You are not God, sir. But yes, thank you; I am prepared to meet them.”
         Roz stared at his young general with discontent. He turned around and lead Angel and his men to the balcony with millions of U.R.L citizens awaited to meet the man that will win the war. Angel’s mind raced as they were only meters from the balcony. He could already hear the people shouting, “Angel! Angel! Angel!”. These people were indebted to him, yet they never saw his face, or heard him speak. They did not know that he spoke in the same accent as the king of Amoretpaz. They had never even looked into his eyes. Yet these people borderline praised him.
         He hated it. He was not God. He did not determine who lives and who dies at any given moment. He could not pass judgement on anyone, not even himself. How did they know that he would win the war? There have been 20 high generals before him, yet war is still waging. Nothing had been solved, so how do they know that he would solve anything?
         Angel walked to the railing of the balcony. The Chancellor grabbed his wrist and held it high in the air. He shouted in a proud voice, “My dear citizens of the United Republic of Liberty, today marks a new era in the history of the world. Today, I present to you Angel, High General and Commander of the United Republic Army! This war is won by his hand and mind! The two nations will unite and all its citizens shall prosper!”.
         Angel leaned into the Chancellor’s ear and whispered, “Or half of its citizens will enslave the other half.” Roz kept the smile on his face. “I am warning you, Angel. Do not cross me, boy”, he hissed from the corner of his mouth. Angel smirked, and waved towards the millions of people screaming his name. This was his destiny. This is what he was born and raised and destined to do. His only question was why?
         He had heard the stories and read books about past generals with special abilities. He knew that the Kingdom of Amoretpaz, the country that he would lead his army against, had done the same for so many years. The stories told of the valiant U.R.L generals, such as Merrick, Amari, and Sethaniel, stuck in week long battles with the savage Amoretpazian generals. Except his country viewed him, and his predecessors as heroes, rivaling Hercules and Perseus. The opposition had weapons; mindless, bloodthirsty mutants whose eyes shone black like those of demons. Still, as vile as the Amoretpazian Empire sounded, he never truly understood what started the fighting.
         That night, after all of the afternoon’s festivities, Angel and his men, the Chancellor and his advisors, and many aristocrats settled in a large dining hall for a feast in honor of their new general. Angel sat in the middle of the large table seating the leaders of the country. To his right, Chancellor Roz (to his displeasure), and to his left was his most trusted advisor, friend, and lieutenant, Michael.
         Michael was a tall, slender fellow with a strikingly bald head. He had a prominent gash running from the midpoint of his cranium, running down his forehead, through his right eye, and ending on his cheek. His face made him look as if he were in his mid-30s, but he had old eyes. Michael raised Angel since he was a baby, and trained and watched over him every day since his birth. He was a father figure to Angel, though his caustic and witty remarks were slightly childish. He told Angel that he never tried to be too serious with him, for he did not want to make him inhumane or distant.
         Michael tapped Angel on the shoulder, gesturing him to lean in so that he could whisper something to him. “The Chancellor has been eating too many buns, dontcha think? I mean, his belly is bursting in that suit. He should send his tayler to a P.O.W camp.” Angel laughed out loud and the table stopped and gawked at the rare sight. Angel cleared his throat and continued eating with a small smile.
         Michael spoke with a dead accent that made everything he said sound funny. Angel read about an old city where the capital, Tisch was today called New York City. He frequently told Michael that he could be from a section called Brooklyn. Michael usually responded by saying that their fat housekeeper's name was Brooklyn and that he did not want to come from her.
Roz put down his fork and knife and addressed Angel: “General, when do you think your first battle will be?”
         “Aren’t you in charge of that?” Angel replied, stuffing meat into his mouth.
         Roz looked impatient. “Yes, but I would like to know your opinion and personal preference.”
         “Well, whatever my preference is, you just want to respond with your sovereign ruling. Chancellor, do not play your game with me. Do not try to address me in meaningless small talk to show off for these people. We both know you do not like me because of my accent. You think I can not be trusted, but it is because you fear what I can do. Sir, I am no more a threat to you than yourself.” Angel wiped his mouth and whispered, “I have heard the stories about Sethaniel. What you did to him, sir, you will not do to me.”
         The high general placed his napkin atop his plate and rose from his seat. He gestured for Michael to rise with him. “Now, if you all do not mind, my Lieutenant and I will be retiring to our home. Good night to you all,” He turned to face the Chancellor and saluted, “Good night, Vikter.”
          Angel and Michael exited the dining hall quietly through the back and walked out into the street. The young general looked up at the starless sky. “Michael,” He said, “did you ever wonder why we can’t see the stars from earth?”
         Michael rubbed his feast-swollen stomach and grunted, “I don’t know, sir. It’s probably because they don’t want to shine for us anymore.”