Skylar Knight
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This is the second version of The Milits and I really hope you'll enjoy it. I'm probably going to post three or four chapters each month, but I can't promise anything of course. This new version has a different writing style, different character personalities, somewhat different plot, and more extreme fights. So here it is:
Chapter 1:
~The Cowboy Era~
~The Cowboy Era~
An essentially large amount of people piles into a room big enough to contain that population as everyone mutters to their neighbors in hushed tones without much personal space. Several film recorders have been placed in each and every corner to find the most suitable angle to record this historical day, and a group of journalists push their way to the front of the mumbling audience to assure them a position for a photo that is taken well enough to make the front page the following morning. Some are too nervous to chatter as they notice the imposing armed soldiers, hundreds of them, lined upon at every possible exit in the area.
The room is filled with humongous grey flags, hanging on the walls, withholding a white emblem in the form of a clenched fist, which belongs to the government, as a sign of peace stated by them. A ten meter high door stands at the clearest side of the room, the entrance, and as the people flow in the crowd increases dramatically. Civilians, even children, rush in to see the big event and join the others without hesitation.
Suddenly, a repeating sound echoes throughout the room; a stepping noise that soars between the crowd’s anxious ears, making all of the people, from the journalists to the kids, tense their bodies and begin searching for the source. The heavy pattering becomes louder and more distinct as each second passes, until a figure emerges for everyone to see , clearly female, and find an exhausted woman in their midst. Several soldiers straighten their backs becoming more wary and cautious as the woman appears from the dark passageway.
The woman wears cuffs upon her wrists, binding her and causing them to be useless. As the light drapes over her tanned skin, fresh wounds and past scars become visible. The once muffled muttering becomes earnest mumbling as she stumbles into the flash, and glares, both of fear and anger, are directed at her from every single viewing eye in the hall. She limps carefully out of the shadows with her heavy mechanical leg dragging beneath her, black hair flows and messes around her forehead, and small drops of blood fall down to her freckled nose. Strong, pestering beams of light hits her green eyes as she stumbles in the same lazy pace to a somewhat old platform, close to the passage she came from, followed by a few well-guarded soldiers. The tempo is the same, even the moment she starts her stride up the rotten stairs to the platform, and gives off a discreet, yet annoyed sigh when the thought of her being seen by the whole, hateful world comes to mind.
Pictures are immediately taken by the greedy journalists the moment her foot reaches the top, and a repetitive booing from the audience begins while she is blinded by the flashes of the cameras. She suddenly notices, after opening her now tearful eyes, several ropes hanging down from a beam in the ceiling. One of the few soldiers rush forward, takes one of the leashes and ties it around the woman’s neck without a warning, something she expected, and does not bother to resist. It’s put tightly around her; making it sting all over the new wounds under her small chin. She is suddenly left alone so fast she can’t comprehend it, but can’t show a single reaction as she stands for herself against the world in front of her; which is a thought that makes her sweat.
Another minute goes, and some sharp, mechanic screeching surprises everyone in the building, which is clearly from a speaking device. Coughing is heard from the other line. Everyone is listening to now, even the handcuffed woman who stands on the highest position in the room. Not many seconds after a masculine voice appears from the speaker, preparing itself to give off a little speech before the event takes place.
“Noelle Rose...,”said the calm voice and gives off another cough, “You have finally been captured”.
A frown appears on her face when she recognizes it, disgusted that the person talking mentions her name without a trace of feelings. She didn’t want that man to speak so provocatively toward her, but she shows no emotion herself. It’s obvious how hard she is trying to prevent herself into letting her guard down around him, something she has regretfully done several times in the past.
“You, a threat who have changed the world greatly, have been brought here for one reason,” he began after a short pause, “…. and one reason only”.
Noelle could feel the rope scratching around her wounded neck every time she slightly moved, leaving a small speck of blood around her chin. She looks downwards at the open-mouthed citizens, and receives another moment of heavy booing, but simply ignores it just as before.
“You have been sentenced to death, without a trial, for the murder of over two million people and being a rebel against the government”.
The voice seems almost proud to state this as he continues without any pauses, “The consequences of this will therefore be lynching at the exact spot you’re standing on now”. She takes a look under her shoeless feet and notices that the floor can easily open and close. Being tied up like this would mean instant death if that happens, which makes her feel rather powerless.
“However…” he says with a loud sigh, “…even if you can be considered our greatest enemy, we’ll still grant you, the same as everyone else, the option to speak your last words of regret to whomever you wish”.
The high number of soldiers is taken off by surprise and whisper to the neighbor's amongst them, but straighten up again when they see Noelle’s mouth open up slightly with the intention of speaking. She has her mouth slightly gaping for a few moments as she teases her captive audience for a bit of fun, but let’s out her last words soon enough; knowing it’s her final breaths.
“Last words of regret..?” says a clear, girly voice, yet sharp as a dagger, tensing everyone up in the room. She closes her blue eyes after a short glare at the audience, and starts yelling out, almost biting her bloody tongue, “Regret has certainly been flying over my head since I was a child, but becoming a rebel is something I would gladly do time and time again. I didn’t manage to fulfill my goals and dreams, but that does not mean I’m the one who will fulfill them. New generations will come every decade; some may fail, but one person shall certainly achieve victory.” Noelle grits her teeth and starts feeling sweat dripping down her back, mostly because she knows what’ll happen to her in less than a minute.
She screams out again, spitting in the process, hoping everyone can hear her very last words, ”This person is destined to succeed!!”.
She suddenly feels the planks she’s standing on move a bit, making her take a step backwards as a reflex. Her body falls down in the most uncontrollable way possible and a cracking sound from her neck reverberating through the room, and people gaze as she bounces a meter up in the air after the impact. The entire area falls silent after that and everyone emptily glance at the hanging body of the legendary Noelle Rose, the government’s greatest enemy. Many of the citizens are surprised she didn’t mention her rebel group, The Cowboys, in her last speech, and the audience starts leaving one after another as they take the dead corpse of the rope. No one, neither in that room nor the world, know that a new era is upon them, an era that will have a huge impact on the world; The Cowboy Era.
...
On an island far away from the execution, several years later, crunching sounds from minuscule stones being crushed flat echoes from afar. The heat from the blazing sun makes the ground impossibly dry and several carnivorous vultures fly temptingly around the young man who stumbles by himself through the high temperature. His brown, somewhat long hair is soaked from perspiration, and his green eyes get blended every time he looks up at the cloudless sky. Protests from his raving stomach are the loudest noise around him as he mumbles annoyed to the empty air.
“Geez, this would be so much better if Julianne was with me right now…” He kicks a rock as he says this and wipes off fluid that glides down his forehead.
His head moves around in circles as he tries to find the old village, Buffalo Town, which he’s been travelling to for days. He uses his last strength to stride up a small hill in the middle of the plain field, and is met with, in his eyes, an extremely cheerful sight. What he’s been looking for is right down the mound, and he doesn’t hesitate to run off toward it, giving off another pestered sound from his belly.
The town with the name of Buffalo is full of life as he walks among a few citizens down the one and only street. Heavy-set traders and shop owners trying eagerly to sell their goods, woodcutters carrying planks and drunken people crawling down the street. The boy, who is now eighteen years old, strides towards the closest saloon with his hands in his jeans pockets, but immediately puts his arms forward to open the saloon door with the palms on his hands. Everything, from the lonely men to the pianist, turns silent the moment he makes his arrival, standing clueless in the entryway as he scans the room for a place he can sit down.
“Something you want, kid?” asks the bartender from the opposite side of the room, almost a bit annoyed that this young man ruined the mood in his bar.
Heavy looks are sent towards the boy with the colorless, yet dirty shirt which hasn’t been closed, revealing his upper body. He returns an irritated glare at them before taking a seat near the man who had asked the question.
“Yes, could you please give me some beans?” the tanned boy asks nicely to the large man as he scratches his hair, “… I’m kind of hungry, so make them the way you want”.
The overweight saloon owner puts down the purple-striped towel he uses to clean the mugs, nods to his customer, and begins preparing the food. As he does this, several shabby looking men walk proudly up to the silent kid.
“Hey, kiddo,” the largest laughs out as he leans over the disk and looks at him, “…you a new one in town?” They stare at him without being returned eye contact and some of them start frowning in anger as they wait impatiently for his answer.
“That’s correct, I’m not from this town,” he tells them as he drinks dirty water from the glass he just received from the man who is currently finding beans for him.
A few of the smaller males give off a discreet laugh as they surround him slowly, and the others in the saloon look away, trying their best to not get involved too.
“Well, then I’ll let you know that we’re the leading cowboy group here,” he smirks while putting his hand over the boy, “and people visiting this town, like you, have to pay a high bill to be able to stay.” His grip on the shoulder slightly tightens, and the young man finally returns the eye contact the men have been waiting for the past several seconds.
“…Please let go of me,” the boy mutters as he gaze at them, “I just want to eat my beans in peace, okay?” A box of cold beans is placed in front of him the second he says this, and the young man doesn’t hesitate to take up his rusty spoon and put it in the little dish. Mumbling is heard all over the dark building, someone praising the kid’s courage and others surprised by his idiotic behavior.
“I think you need to wash your ears,” states the cowboy and takes a hold of the boy’s green bandana, “I’m sure you know what I mean by this”.
He shows his hairy fist in front of the young man, and clearly threatens him for some dollar bills. No reaction is shown in the victims face as he continues to eat his food without responding and the eyes of the other customers widens as if they saw something they could never do themselves.
“Please let go of my bandana,” he mutters again, this time a bit louder, making the cowboy get multiple thick veins on his forehead.
He grabs the young man’s hair and prepares to warn him once more, but suddenly gets his own greasy head smashed down on the moldy disk, letting the whole town hear the intense scream of pain as his eye is pushed down with the crushed planks. A sharp breaking sound is heard throughout the saloon, and the kid holds his now broken glass towards the throat of the male who has pressured him for money the last minute.
“…I just want to enjoy this meal alone,” he calmly says while looking straight into the teary eyes of the man who laughed a moment ago, “You understand?” The other cowboys take a step back in both fear and surprise as the unknown boy squishes out the last of his consciousness with sheer strength.
He let loose of the man and glare at the shivering rebels, “…You understand?” he repeats and wipes off a small amount of blood on his blue jeans. It doesn’t take long before he sits down on his plain chair as if nothing happened, and the whole gang dashes out of the building when he sends them one last look. The only sounds around them are the screaming for help and heavy muttering amongst the other customers, something that seems to be ignored by the now bean-eating young man. No one would have believed that a boy younger than twenty would have beaten a member of the strongest cowboy group in Buffalo Town if they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes.
“…Er…Hey…” He barely hears it while shoving in every piece of cold food on his spoon into his mouth, but looks in front of him to search for the source.
The saloon owner is the one talking, or whispering to be more precise, trembling as much as the others in the bar. He gives off a glance at the body with the head under the planks. “…that’s my glass,” he whispers again while pointing at the rest of the broken mug covering the disk between the two who fought. It’s the object the boy used to threaten his short time opponent, something he forgot to clean up earlier.
“Oh, sorry about that,” the kid apologizes as he began eating his meal again. Every thought-bubble in the room mention “crazy” as the people stares at him, but turn their heads away again when they remember what he did to the cowboy they feel sorry for now.
“W-Who are you..?” the bartender asks him, something everyone in the bar is inquiring. The youngster licks the inside of the bean can while listening, hoping the box won’t be completely empty. He throws it away as soon as he lost interest in it, wipe off some sauce on his cheek, and answers the man in front of him, “I’m Skylar Knight”.
The one who asked the question looks somewhat surprised at him, expecting a more detailed answer than just a name. He opens his mouth to ask again, but is stopped when the rusty saloon door opens up and heavy steps marching in.
“Who is the “boy” that beat up one of my guys!?”
~To be continued~
Don't forget to rate Noelle's last words in the poll ^_^
Thanks if you read, commented or voted.
Thanks if you read, commented or voted.
~Special thanks~
I also want to thank a girl who helped me with this. She changed some stuff after I sent in what I wrote, and it meant a lot what she did. She will probably help me in the future too.
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