Spoiler! :
A large fire surrounded the capital of New Britain. A decade before, the area was known as New England, and was made up of several small states on the Northeast coast of the United States. As the fire continued, Tiviel stared in contempt at the blaze, a devilish smile upon his face.
After Britain took New England as it's own, the citizens of the original states had been treated like trash, thought of as terrorists and murderers by the British. The other states in America did not intend to interfere. Forty-four states sat and watched as Britain took control and forced New England into oppression.
Tiviel couldn't stand the unjust ways of the British any longer. He put together a large army of “Terrorists” in order to take back control of what was once theirs. He chuckled deeply as he watched over what he created, and backed away. He was sure this war would last a few years, and he was proud. Slamming the door of his car, he sped off toward his home, away from the mess he created.
“Tiviel, are you home?”
“Yeah, I'm back. Sorry I'm so late, work was crazy today.”
His wife came out of the kitchen to greet him. She kissed him lightly, stating a firm “Don't over work yourself” and gestured to the kitchen where dinner was waiting.
“Hi daddy!” his little girl shouted as he entered. Patting her head, he smiled and sat down.
“Hey, Griffin, did you finish your homework?” he asked his son.
Griffin mumbled a “no” and started filling up his plate with food.
Their tiny house was barely enough space for just the four of them. Within New Britain, there were seven designated sites that kept the original citizens away from the new inhabitants. These sites were run down and poor, often having several families cramped into one small house. Tiviel's family was one of the few lucky ones that didn't have to share their home. Once every week, soldiers would invade the small villages and check up on the citizens. They always treated them harshly, throwing mothers and children inside the houses if they got in the way.
The only time they were treated equally was when the soldiers came. It didn't matter how old you were, how young you were, tall, short, or ill, every factor became null. If they thought of you as a burden, you would be taken out of the way. Tiviel may have been thought of as a terrorist, but if he was a hero to his family, then that's all that mattered.
“Daddy?” the small voice of his daughter asked as he tucked her in for bed.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Mommy said that I can't leave the house tomorrow. Why can't I?” she looked sad as she stared at her father, pulling the covers over her nose.
“Because. Men will come tomorrow and check up on our village. Mommy just doesn't want you to get hurt, okay?” Tiviel comfortingly combed her hair back behind her ear and kissed her forehead.
“The Green Men?” Children in their village often described the soldiers as “Green Men” due to the green uniforms they wore.
“Yes, so Mommy and Daddy want you to stay inside for tomorrow, okay?” He sighed as she nodded her head.
As soon as the door closed, his smile turned into a scowl and he glared at the wall. Tomorrow he would go back to the capital. He needed to create a world that his children could grow up in and no matter what it would take, he would give them that. Though it was too late for Griffin, being seventeen, his daughter was still only six. This oppressive world was all she knew, and that just wasn't acceptable.
Once again, as darkness fell, the sky lit up with the glow of flames burning in the capital. Tiviel chuckled at the sight and blew on his cigaret. His friends and fellow “terrorists” ran through the streets, shooting off their guns into the night.
His cell phone buzzed. “Hey, T! The Brits are coming in from three sides, what should we do?”
He sighed in frustration and looked around. “Where is your team located?”
“On the west side, the intersection with the four churches.”
Tiviel looked toward his right. From the roof top of the capital building he could see just about everything and everyone of his attacking soldiers. “Go straight ahead.”
“What? B.. But that's right into the oncoming soldiers!”
Angrily, Tiviel threw his cigaret to the ground and stomped on it. “I said, move.”
As he watched, the seven soldiers ran straight forward, shooting their guns at as many oncoming soldiers as they could. He saw three of them fall to the ground, clutching at various body parts stained with blood. The holy corners, as it was known, was tainted red in the night, and the moon seemed to reflect the burning fire and the blood soaked streets back at them, cloaking the capital in death.
The four remaining soldiers shot off the Brits in their way and ran for cover. Once again, Tiviel laughed, placing another cigaret into his mouth and lighting it.
“Perfect,” he sighed as he blew away the smoke. “Absolutely perfect.”
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