A/N – The character of Victoria (and others mentioned) belongs to me, and the character of Cassandra belongs to another writer (with permission. ;)) I do not own any of the copyrighted characters of the film Equilibrium, nor am I affiliated with any of the cast, crew, writers, etc. Just making disclaimer, I know you've all heard it before. :) Enjoy.

Equilibrium: Out of Balance

Prologue.

All over again...

The city was filled with firelight. Shouts of praise for the uprising of the suppressed peasants and workers echoed in the air. It was the scene John could never forget; the image and soundtrack to match were forever etched in his memory. That was the day he set the people of Libria free – the Old Libria. It was the dawn of a new era now. He had reached his ultimate goal, by taking over the role of leader in this melancholic episode. . .He had made a world that could feel again.

What was to come now?

Dark eyes stared through the clear window, the rubble and debris scattered about the city. The explosions, the bodies, the screaming...the feeling...all erupted through the town that was previously encased in ice, figuratively speaking. Though it was chaotic, it was what he was fighting for. Though feeling had overcome the shadow of his being, filling him with every emotion a human –should- feel, his deep brown eyes were a cavern full of emptiness...

My name is John Preston. Libria has been liberated. It has become a beautiful metropolis, full of life and emotion now, thanks to me. I have become their new leader, their new…"Father". But I have chosen not to become the corrupt man that once ran this place, sending people to mercilessly slaughter those who dared to defy his word. I have become so changed by the ability to feel everything that is so wonderful, everything that is light . . . That is amazing. That is awe-inspiring.

I would not become the man I had grown to hate.

I lost a great partner in my time as a pawn in the former Father's rule. Partridge was like my brother, and because of my ignorance, I killed him. I did not know what the feeling of regret was until now. I killed him. For what? I had to stop my sorrows because mourning forever was not going to bring him back.

I am the new president, free from the bonds of a glass cage – and I can visit the people in public, answer to their needs and wants.

The Academy of the Clerics was maintained and kept at my will. I wanted to move on in the training of the super-soldiers as I had become. I have kept this youthful state in my physical being, and I am able to train those in the ranks. I will train them to become servants of the republic, not the man I had become before. Deep inside my mind, however. . .I was full of angst and bitterness--wallowing in my confusion.

My eldest daughter, Cassandra is my only safeguard against falling apart these days. She is currently the head Cleric in the Alpha division and is very headstrong. No doubt, she's inherited my hard head of things, but is still following the ways of Old Libria. She looks just like her mother...and she looks more and more like her every day.

Should I bind the hands of the people I have just freed and look back to what Father has created and what I have fully destroyed…or allow the people to run amuck within the streets that I once protected? How do I decide what is law? The city does not suffer, for they have no boundaries, no struggle. There must be order. Jurgen has chosen to become my advisor. He has chosen to help me rule this place. Gladly, I accepted, as his advice has already taken me so far. Could even he, the all-knowing, help me answer this question?

I could not answer this now. I would just have to sit and wait…Wait for the answer to come to me. . .

-

Three years have passed, and President John Preston sits at his desk, writing up some documents to the Academy. There was a knock at the door Finishing one off with his John Hancock, he set it on his desk. His secretary would fetch it later. "Come in." He called. His voice is still firm, but the feeling of unease was swimming in its tone.

Enter, a Cleric. It was a female; dressed in a firmly pressed Cleric uniform of a dark shade of navy – so dark it nears black. She stood at attention with her hands tightly clasped behind her back, her posture completely proper. Although he didn't look upon her, he knew who it was, just by her scent. It was sweeter than anything John had ever smelled before.

"What is it?" John asked, eyes closing slowly at the illustrious scent. He caught himself and regained composure quickly, acting as if he was still looking through the documents upon his simply furnished desk.

"I have finished the reports on the history of those sentenced to life in our Holding Facility, just as you asked." Her voice was just as firm as his and her eyes were fixed upon him, as if she was waiting for him to look up.

A beat.

The president's duties were never finished, he thought. He sat back with a sigh. John finally looked up, but not into her eyes...no...He wouldn't dare. He stared just behind her, giving the notion that she had his attention...but he couldn't look at her. Not yet. He smiled. "Good. Send them in as soon as possible."

Her name was Victoria Martin. It was at that moment he bothered to look at her. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight and nearly perfect braid, wrapped into a bun and securely snapped to her head by a black clip. Her features are very soft, not too sharp. Unlike most of the Clerics, she was not black nor white . . . she resembled a lady of the eastern shores, possibly a woman of Asian decent. She was known as his equivalent; with the same abilities he had when he was among the ranks. Victoria was merely second in command of her own company, a company that was opposite Cassandra's. "Yes, sir." She spoke softly, nodding politely with a bit of a bow before turning heel to exit.

He watched her as she turned to leave, words in his mind left unspoken. There was definitely something about her that was so exhilarating but it made John too uncomfortable to think. He hadn't felt this way since …

… no.

Placing his forefinger and thumb at the top of the bridge of his nose, John gave an exasperated sigh and decided to call it a day.