Me and my epic narrative dreams again...
In a post-apocalyptic wasteland, our community was being raided. We had only just settled inside the abandoned buildings after being pursued here. We try to hold the metal door shut as our pursuers, who have no caught up, try to ram it down. Finally, it gives way, and we back away from the dust.
A few soldiers come through in their plate-metal armour, and we shoot a few down. A voice calls out for them to stop, and a man, their leader, walks through the doorway. He knows we have barely any guns, and very few bullets. He shows no emotion, and wants us all to surrender or be killed.
All the people around me open fire on his soldiers. When nearly all of his men are dead, they stop firing, and I punch him right in the face. He shows little reaction, so I pin him to the wall by his throat and shout at him. Why is he chasing us, why won’t he leave us alone?
He says something, which I unfortunately cannot recollect, and I push against him harder. I shout at him a few times, until he starts to look in shock, then I let go and my female sergeant takes over shouting and punching. She’s shouting at him to “feel”, then I shout “feel” at the top of my voice and he just stands there, dumbfounded, but I think something in him twigged. He was broken. Whatever was driving him had fled.
Afterwards, I was saying my goodbyes: I felt my work was done. I was leaving to see if I could find something to make the world better, to fix what had been broken and restore what had been lost. I’d been given an urn as a token of thanks by someone, and I wanted to take that, but it was too large. Fortunately, there was a tiny version I could take. I walked along a mezzanine shaking a couple of fellow soldiers’ hands. The civilians just nodded or stared. I reach the end of a group and spoke to an older woman I knew, who was going about normal business. She wanted me to pass her a lamp from the shelf behind me, and I picked the wrong one a few times. There were a few of them. I looked past her and saw large urns and other pottery. The place was kind of a mess. After she left I accidentally knocked two white bowls off a pile of wicker boxes, but caught them, and this elicited a smile from her as she walked away.
Next to the shelves was a computer desk, and the occupant asked where I was going. I told him down south, to see what good I could do. He nodded and smiled.
I looked back, but my sergeant was wearing her helmet – she hadn’t said goodbye the first time around. I slowly wandered around for a bit, then went back down to her and when she didn’t acknowledge me I awkwardly patted her on the back/shoulder, said “sergeant” matter-of-factly and walked away.