Thick vermillion skies hang heavy on his back. Through his veins courses new blood. Civil servants sit at the nerve centre, monitoring the operation, can't believe their eyes when the man enters through a hole he made in a 15foot reinforced concrete wall. Reduces them to ashes with one fierce radioactive glance, then turns and heads toward his next destination. In the corner of a burnt-out building you sit with the bomb.
Outside snow begins to fall as the car turns the corner.
A figure rushes into the street clutching the deadly symbol of freedom, lets loose the destruction made of desparation. You move in the shadow, the cold blue glow of a street in winter, through the snow to the house of the inner circle. You reach the door.