A shot was fired. The bullet flew towards its target, perfectly aimed. A smoking, empty shell ejected, its owner unblinking at the scene unfolding before him. What should have been a day of joy, a day of triumph against corruption, became a day of sorrow.

TARGET ELIMINATED: Leonard Erand Vandersteen (35), United Technocracy of Eurasia, Full Citizenship, Member of the United Council.

Leonard Erand Vandersteen would never get to finish his victory speech. A paragon of justice in the political world who just a few days prior had celebrated his thirty-fifth year of living on this earth, was now struggling against the icy grip of death.

Heh. You think it’ll end with me, huh? thought Lev as his life began slipping away. I can’t blame you. As always, you’re a bunch of shortsighted fools.

Lev had prepared a contingency plan for this very situation. Upon his death, all national media outlets would be hijacked to broadcast all his rivals’ dirty secrets—not the usual dirty secrets that politicians would hire foreign parties to spread, drawing eyes away from their recent activities, but all their secret prostitution rings, all their unknown crime syndicates, all their hidden deals with foreign parties, all their secret wars, and the worst, all their “fun” activities involving children who had gone missing in recent years.

He had wanted to reveal the truth sooner, but he needed the people's trust, as few would believe an unknown upstart over leaders they had been taught to believe and rely on. Over time, he had collected more and more evidence against them, and would have released everything once he had the power to repel their efforts to undermine him and cover the evidence back up. Not that he had been silent all this time—he had spread rumors via third parties across his own network to prevent them from discovering his efforts.

Lev could not help but grin. What should have been an act to cement their control over the government would ultimately lead to its collapse, and a new state would arise like a phoenix from its ashes.

A frantic man shoved his way forward. “Out of the way!” he shouted. “Lev!”

Though Lev’s already blurry vision was darkening, he could never mistake this voice, whose owner had followed him through thick and thin all his life from the tender years of their childhood in the orphanage to the callous present. Brutus, he thought.

“It’s not your time, man!” Brutus yelled. He turned to a woman just behind him. “Maria, call an ambulance!” He applied pressure to Lev’s wound, but it was too late. Death demanded its quarry.

Leonard was relieved that he would die held by those he loved. Even so, a tear ran down his left cheek, for this was goodbye, and alas, he wouldn’t be able to fulfil his promise that they would see their world change together.

Instead of trying to solve the problem, those crooks had made empty promises and stolen from the people, most of whom had been helplessly indoctrinated into serving their foul masters.

They had implemented their system into schools to pollute the minds of the youth and given paltry sums to their parents to buy their loyalty. People were taught that these vile oppressors were their representatives, their protectors, and their saviours—that society would suffer at the hands of other factions and ideologies. Those swindlers had spun a web so tough that it seemed like nothing would ever cut through it.

So many people had taken their propaganda as truth that even Lev might have believed it, but he had seen the bakeries close, the parks dirtied, the shops boarded up, and the orphanages suffering from disrepair, hardly able to support their children, let alone accept more. He had seen the world he loved disintegrate, and he had realized that this was wrong.

Why are these monsters the only choice? he had thought. Why do we help the ones who hurt us? Why do we have to aid them, work for them, pay them, and then thank them? Shouldn’t they be helping us instead?

As the years passed, he had worked hard, studied hard, and learned how to lie through his teeth. He had seen those who had tried to fight the autocrats honorably always somehow fall from grace, and disappear. To defeat the monsters, he had to become a monster, but instead of feeding on the weak and downtrodden, he swore to protect them as he devoured their predators. He too had once been a twelve-year-old lad, his life ruined at the greedy hands of the corrupt who’d worsened a devastating recession.

Brutus and Maria had been the first to follow him—since they were practically siblings, it was only natural—and as time went by, others had joined his cause. Two people became four and four became hundreds; his following had grown and grown as he proved himself an enchanting orator.

They had tried to invite him into their ranks like they had many respected professionals before him, but he had refused to submit. Instead, he had foiled their plans and dismantled their traps, and by the time they had realized how much of a threat he was, it had been too late. Their web had been torn apart and the people were awoken.

As a last resort, the tyrants had set loose an assassin to slay their indomitable foe. This was their last chance to pluck this thorn from their sides. The dastards had succeeded.

Lev smiled for the last time and muttered “thank you” as he, much to his friends’ grief, closed his eyes.