In a time where the world sleeps, and oppression is the norm,
in a time where men declare themselves Gods, and Gods can’t be found,
it is a time of darkness, with no light at the end of the tunnel,
it is the year 3968. An age when free will has died.
Opinions are only of those who are powerful enough to have them
besides the few on top, the rest a populous of slaves and minions,
either believing all that their masters tell them, or not having the energy to believe.
It is a time when all are exhausted, life and death merge into nothingness.
All without exception are too busy surviving to live,
Music is only the screams of tortured souls, and there is no poetry save the verses of pain,
it is not just the death of all that made us human, it is the death of humanity.
The ruling few enjoy lives of sin, blood-lust and hatred.
They are too drunk on their power to see reason, anyone who does is promptly finished.
Those who walk against them are paraded, dead, hanging upside down.
The downtrodden are buried too deep to know any better
than to say yes to all that they are ever ordered to do, whether logic says yes or not.
It was a time of loss and sadness, that fateful age,
It was a time of unending despair
It was time for a revolution.
It takes no more than the spark of an idea, to fuel the fire of rebellion
in the hearts of those souls for whom faith had died.
With no one left to believe in, six men said that they believe in themselves.
The plans were made, oaths were pledged and blades sharpened.
In shadows they met, and into the shadows the men faded.
Six men, six daggers, six throats.
Prepared to lay down their lives for the cause of freedom, and a return of free will.
Then came the fateful day.
The parade was in full swing, screaming frenzied crowds, waving red flags, and the leaders at the top, showing off their victory over the lines of dead hanging.
What they failed to notice, were six chests still moving up and down.
Six daggers flashed , six ropes were cut, six men lifted themselves to where the oppressors stood and drew lines of blood across their throats.
Those six were caught and vanished without a trace, they were never found again.
But what they had sparked set everyone aflame, the people had seen Gods bleed.
They knew that the revolution wasn’t far away. The people knew that they still had free will.
But dear reader, the year is not 3968. It is now. Free will is dying, hear the cries.
Spark the revolution, it is time.

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