Animalism
It is the year 2387. Animal Humane Societies, such as PETA and SPEAK, have taken over. The world is ruined. Roles have been reversed between animals and humans; the animals now live like kings while humans struggle to survive. We are a secret society known by few and joined by fewer. We are called The Harbingers, The Merchants, The Apocalypse, along with many other names people give us. There is a group of the elite inside our society. They call themselves The Night Angels; specializing in assassination. There are only three members and no one knows any of their names. They call themselves Justice, Mercy, and Vengeance. We as a whole try to take out some of the top leaders of the government in hopes of trying to restore people to homes instead of gutters. We have one member who is different; an observer you could say. He works in The Barn; one of several homes to animals. His name is Berthold.
Berthold was walking down the hall; on his way to feed his “clients.” He didn’t know why they called the animals “clients.” They didn’t even pay for staying in The Barn; the government paid for them instead. But it wasn’t his concern; he was just doing his job. He proceeded until he came to Madame Click. Madame Click was a chicken who clicked instead of clucked. He entered her room, rang the bell, and bowed.
“Madame Click, your afternoon repast is ready,” proclaimed Berthold. Madame Click exited her domain, a quaint, padded tower, made to look like a castle.
“Today, Madame, the chefs have prepared you a special treat,” said Berthold enticingly as he laid it before her. “Escargot with birdseed pudding for dessert.”
Madame Click examined it critically and decided she was too good for it; turning up her beak and walking back to into her tower.
“Fine,” declared Berthold. “I shall leave it here and if you, Madame, wish you may eat it cold. Good day.” Berthold stormed off.
Everyday, always the same thing; Berthold thought; I show up to Madame Click’s compound and present the elegant meal. She snubs it and I leave it, but when it is time for the next meal and I show up, the platter is licked clean. I swear, she does it just to infuriate me.
Berthold proceeded on his rounds to the rest of his clients. By the time he finished it is 1700 and it was time for him to go to the kitchens and pick up the dinners for all of his charges. Berthold sighed and dragged his feet to the kitchen. The one day that holds at least a little bit of surprise and fear for him. The night he reports to The Merchants. Berthold hurried through his rounds and was done by 1830. The meeting began at 2000 and Berthold still had to prepare and then hustle if he was to get to the secret meeting that he still didn’t know the location of.
Berthold strolled up to his room and took a shower. He finished getting his notes together when he saw quick blur. He paused, turned around, and saw nothing. He disregarded it and went back to organizing. Another blur, this one closer. Berthold started to sweat a little. He checked all around the room but made one error. He didn’t check above him. As soon as he returned to his notes a black shadow dropped from the ceiling and quickly knocked him out. The figure dressed in black picked up Berthold’s unconscious body and threw it in a black bag. It proceeded to pick up all of Berthold’s notes, handling them with utmost care. The figure jumped out of the window with Berthold and Berthold’s notes in tow.
The figure all but disappeared in the shadows of the streets as it made its way towards the wharf. It reached the dock where a houseboat was tied up. The figure leapt aboard and started up the engine, which was unusually quiet. The houseboat zoomed off as the figure checked its watch.
“Snap. I’m running late. Justice will not be pleased,” it muttered. “I only hope Mercy can control Vengeance.”
The boat rushed on and about a half hour later a mountain came into view. The boat drew closer but didn’t slow down. It rushed right through the mountain without crashing for the mountain was really just a hologram. The boat proceeded down a narrow tunnel, dimly lit by torches. Berthold was waking up. He could hear the crash of the waves on the rocks and smell the salt in the air. Berthold realized he was trapped in a bag. He started to struggle, trying to free himself, and felt himself falling. Berthold screamed as he felt the icy cold water rush into the bag.
“Aw man!” shouted the figure in black as it dived into the water.
It swam down, grabbed the bag, and struggled back to the top. It heaved the bag containing Berthold onto the deck of the boat before jumping up. It untied the bag and a soaking, coughing Berthold crawled out.
“Wh…Whe…Where am I?” sputtered Berthold.
“Hey,” said the figure. “You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but where am I?” spoke Berthold, rather daftly. “I have to be…some place at 2000. What time is it anyway?”
“It’s 1945. You’ll make it there on time. I promise you that.” said the figure eerily. “Follow me or will I have to knock you out again?”
“You did what?” Berthold said, shocked. “When was this…” He fell silent at a glare from the figure. “Of course, of course, I’ll follow.” He said getting to his feet.
The figure led him down a dark tunnel.
“In here,” the figure said pointing to a door. “Here are your notes; you’re going to need them.
Berthold took the notes wordlessly and proceeded through the door. Berthold looked around and gasped. He was in a large, ornate hall with thrones lining the walls. These thrones were filled with people dressed completely in black. The figure in the center spoke.
“We apologize for this…inconvenience, Berthold. The location for this meeting must be kept secret at any cost. I am Justice. On my left is Mercy and on my right is Vengeance. We are here to hear your report. Proceed.”
“Um...well, yes of course,” stammered Berthold. “Well your Excellencies, it took some time but I think I might have gathered some very good information. I took me about three weeks and…”
“Get to the point.” Vengeance said abruptly.
“Yes, yes, of course. My apologies. Anyway, tomorrow a high ranking government official is coming to the barn to inspect our caretaking. He will be arriving at precisely 0800 and leaving at 1300. Now what I think is…”
“We see,” said Mercy, speaking for the first time. “We thank you for this information but your opinion is unneeded.”
“Yes, I realize that, but…”
“Silence!” thundered Mercy, throwing a knife so it landed in the wood next to Berthold. “Here is what will happen. You will take that knife, and when the official from the government comes, you will stab him. Just be sure that the wound is fatal. That is all. You may leave.”
“But wait, I…” Berthold stammered, the words dying in his mouth as Justice, Mercy, and Vengeance glared down at him. “Very well.” he stammered weakly.
“Good,” said Justice, voice rolling like the waves of the sea. “Outside is your escort. You will be blindfolded and drugged upon leaving, but we will make sure you get back to The Barn safely. Remember Berthold, do not fail us.”
Berthold turned and exited through the door. Outside a man dressed in black was waiting for him with a blindfold.
“Sorry about this,” he said. “We have to ensure the secrecy of this location. You understand. Now if you can turn around so I can blindfold you and if you would please swallow this pill. Don’t worry. It’ll only knock you out for about an hour.”
Berthold complied, swallowing the pill with ease. About five minutes later Berthold found himself getting drowsy. Berthold passed out and the man carried him carefully up the gangplank and started the boat. The ride back to the mainland went quite smoothly and the man deposited Berthold in his bed like nothing had ever happened.
When Berthold awoke he wasn’t sure if last night really had happened. Then he reached into his pocket and felt the knife. It had been real all right. This was the day he had to kill the government official. It was already 0900 and his rounds started at 1000. He had an hour to find the official and kill him without anyone seeing him. He leaped out of bed, left his room, and started down the hall. He acted like he was going down to the kitchens when he spotted them. The official, two bodyguards, and the head of The Barn. Berthold could not believe his luck. He pulled the knife out of his pocket and crept up behind them. He then froze. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d never killed anyone before. A knife whizzed right past Berthold’s ear and hit the official in the small of his back. Berthold whirled around and saw a figure in black standing there.
“Heh. We didn’t think you could do it,” scoffed Vengeance cockily. “I followed you here to finish the job. It’s a shame we have to lose such a valuable person, but you just aren’t up to snuff.”
“What do you mean? What are you going to…” Berthold stopped midsentence.
Vengeance was gone as if he had never been there. The only things that were evidence of him ever being there were the knife in the official’s back and the knife in Berthold’s chest.
Keep it up, I'd like to see what happens.
Is he?
