CHAPTER
TWO633Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgXz6LxG1Ru
Damian lay slumped in his chair as he slowly and clumsily fluttered open his eyes, due to the nature of the topic Damian had fallen asleep.
“Damian I told you not to fall asleep during dinner, this is important to know once you usurp the throne. Also, for my sake it puts a bad view on me as a father.”
Damien could only think of how bad of a father he was.
“I’m going to go cremate your mother, care to join me?” he asked in a welcoming voice, Damien nodded his head and raised himself of the chair leaving the comfortable imprint left in the green cushions.
The two started towards he giant wooden door and wandered out into the moonlit courtyard.
“Say, pa did you deal with Tesla?” said Damian warming his hands in his coat pockets. He was worried for Mr. Tesla, Damian idolized Tesla and his ideals and mindset.
“Yes, Damian the little wanker and I came to an agreement.” He was speaking in an oddly vague tone.
They walked in silence for the rest of the stroll to the small field where the ex-empress was still tied to the wooden stake being pecked at by crows. The Governor shooed the crows away and began to untie her from the wooden stake taking extra pleasure in touching her again. Bloody sicko.
Once untied he threw her body on the tall emerald blades of grass, He walked into the booth and pulled out a large burlap sack with grey laces and stitching, while Damian knelt beside his mother looking mournfully at the extensive wounds his mother had retained.
Large gaping holes of blood plagued her body like freckles that sprinkled her nose. Her clothes were stripped away to the point that there was only barely enough to cover her up. The eyelid to her right eye had been torn off and a large wound in her stomach where the crows were nourishing themselves.
Without a word the Governor slid her body into the body bag and laced it up, slinging it over his shoulder.
The pair walked out of the field and started down the cobblestone street that led to the church in the middle of the city. The lamps that lined the street flickered their gas lit flame lighting the road. The sentry’s that Tesla created stood at every street corner following Damian and his father with their one red eye, as they walked through the streets and alleyways.
Eventually, the pair reached the foot of a hill and looked up to see the church and it’s spires reaching high for the sky. They made the hard climb up the steep hill, the idiot who built the church on top of a hill decided only those with determination to worship god should be allowed in the church. Damian wasn’t doing this for a god; he was doing it for his mother. In his words, “Bloody bollocks to the big man.”
They reached the doorstep of the church, green roses and yellow tulips were planted in rows leading up to the front doors of the church. Damian pushed open the heavy iron doors of the church, and held it for his father. There was no one there yet the gas chandelier remained on and shone light on the black and white tiles that checkered the floors.
The walked past the rows of wooden benches cushioned with yellow pads that stood in front of the stage where the Pastor’s podium was. A set of lighter iron doors with circular windows in the middle of each door beckoned them to the crematory facility.
Pushing past the light doors they entered a room lined on either side of the room with incinerators, some shown active by the orange light they emitted. These bodies would most likely be ready by the morning, really a fascinating machine, the incinerator, first incinerating the incarcerated as a form of paying for their indictment in the form of impalement, next comes Tesla riding in on his white stallion as usual to use at as a way to keep a physical part of your dearly deceased in your possession.
Damian’s father slung the body bag into the open tray of an incinerator and slid her body out of the body bag and onto the metal tray. He slammed the tray closed and hit a button. “Tray locked.” Said an emotionless and automated sound of a woman. He presses another button. “Feel the burn, burn initiated.” Said the same automated voice as the orange glow shone out of the vent.
“Damian, I want to come out here at sunrise to retrieve the urn, then come right back to the house.” Said Damian’s father but he yielded no response from the boy who was entranced by the flickering glow of the incinerator. “Son?”
Damian snapped out of it, “yeah not a problem.”
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Damian lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling observing the putrid portrayal of god in “The Creation Of Adam”. He just couldn’t believe the concept to be plausible in the slightest, why that guy up there, thought Damian. “Why not me?” asked Damian to himself every time he saw the famous painting.
Damian awoke from the first beams of sunlight hitting him right in the eyes. He slipped out his nightwear and slipped on a blue shirt and black silk pants. He walked over to his desk and slung a hefty backpack over his shoulder, slipping a knife into the back of his pants for easy access and dashed down the stairs and out of the door and towards the church.
The quiet streets lit by the honey glow of the sun rising was only occupied by the sentries, Damian, and shopkeepers prepping their food carts and merchant carts.
Damian ran through the early morning worshippers and into the crematory facility, he pressed the lock button. “Tray unlocked” said the voice. He pushed the other button. “Tan is sufficient.” Said the voice. Tesla was a sarcastic man that was yet another thing that Damian adored about him. The tray popped open and in place of the body was a gold urn with green zigzag lines ran horizontally on the urn.
Damian licked his lips and cracked his knuckles; he could pull off his master plan sensationalizing all five of his senses. With his urn in one arm he charged out of the growing crowd of religious nuts. Until one man in a dirty white tunic had the audacity to stop Damian, “There’s no hurry in the house of god little one, join us.”
“No, get the heck off of me, quim.” Responded Damian in a hurry.
“I insist.” Said the burly man who towered above Damian whose face was unusually small; a beard brushed the top of his chest.
Damian didn’t have time for this. With one quick move he grabbed the knife from his pants and stabbed it into his chest before pulling it out and sprinting out of the door. Everyone was gasping and murmuring a few had began a chase towards Damian.
Damian tripped while running down the hill in turn rolling onto the cobblestone road, earning a couple scratches in turn. Sentries that were even taller charged Damian head on once he recovered and continued the sprint towards the city’s gates. With a remarkable show of adrenaline he took a step off of the sentry’s chest and stabbed the knife down into the sentry’s one red eye. And jumped off the shoulder of the Sentry and weaved into an alleyway between houses.
Within running through a few alleyways Damian could see it, a huge iron door that lead to the outside world. He dashed through the last alleyway and then towards the booth where a patrolman controlled the gate. Entering the booth and without a single word dashed towards and knocked him out with a bludgeoning to the head with the hilt of the knife.
Damian pulled a lever to deactivate air locks and other locks, then with the push of a button the giant iron doors, with a show of amazing human ingenuity slid across the floor and into the wall.
With the citizens screaming and shouting, Damian was gone.
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