What's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?
I'm not the sort of guy who likes confrontation. I avoid it if I can. When I can. But sometimes - most times - I don't have much of a choice. There are a lot of predators in the world. The ones who survived through violence and anger, preying on the weak.
Some bullies are bigger than others. Like Daniel and those who flock to his cause. They've taken survival of the fittest to a grander scale, carving out their vision of a perfect world in the blood and lives of others. Hundreds have fallen beneath Daniel's scythe. Thousands . . . hundreds of thousands more will die unless something stands up to them. Like the Western Alliance and men like Markus and Kurdy and Jeremiah.
Me? The guy who doesn't like confrontation? I tried to make a difference on my own. Once. Through violence. I took justice into my own hands and tried to kill someone. Not face to face, but by stealth. I hid in the woods with a rifle and I waited . . . waited for hours. Waited for the convoy I knew was coming. Waited to see him. Sims. The Dark Man. The leader of the forces laying siege to Thunder Mountain.
I can do this, I thought. I can make a difference. Take out Sims and you cut off the head of the serpent. Another might grow in its place, but it would take time. Days. Months, maybe. Time enough for the Alliance to regroup. Time enough to rekindle hope.
You might not know it, but I'm a pretty good shot. Better than you'd think. I wouldn't have missed, either. Not if I'd been given the chance.
It doesn't really matter how they found me. I realize now I was doomed to fail the minute I decided to assassinate Sims. It wasn't my place to try and kill him. That was meant for someone else. Someone who needed it more. Just like it wasn't meant for me to take things into my own hands, unbidden.
I barely survived the encounter. Shouldn't have survived, but the Voice isn't finished with me yet. There's still work to be done.
Some bullies are bigger than others. Like Daniel and those who flock to his cause. They've taken survival of the fittest to a grander scale, carving out their vision of a perfect world in the blood and lives of others. Hundreds have fallen beneath Daniel's scythe. Thousands . . . hundreds of thousands more will die unless something stands up to them. Like the Western Alliance and men like Markus and Kurdy and Jeremiah.
Me? The guy who doesn't like confrontation? I tried to make a difference on my own. Once. Through violence. I took justice into my own hands and tried to kill someone. Not face to face, but by stealth. I hid in the woods with a rifle and I waited . . . waited for hours. Waited for the convoy I knew was coming. Waited to see him. Sims. The Dark Man. The leader of the forces laying siege to Thunder Mountain.
I can do this, I thought. I can make a difference. Take out Sims and you cut off the head of the serpent. Another might grow in its place, but it would take time. Days. Months, maybe. Time enough for the Alliance to regroup. Time enough to rekindle hope.
You might not know it, but I'm a pretty good shot. Better than you'd think. I wouldn't have missed, either. Not if I'd been given the chance.
It doesn't really matter how they found me. I realize now I was doomed to fail the minute I decided to assassinate Sims. It wasn't my place to try and kill him. That was meant for someone else. Someone who needed it more. Just like it wasn't meant for me to take things into my own hands, unbidden.
I barely survived the encounter. Shouldn't have survived, but the Voice isn't finished with me yet. There's still work to be done.