FREEDOM

They were sitting in the limousine. The streetlights were casting swift flashes of light inside the car as it followed the well-known road home to the prominent areas of Apatia. Naoki hadn't spoken the entire evening. He was mad at Raoul and could have killed him if he had access to a weapon at this moment. How could anyone be so cruel and cold as to subject someone through such degrading and heartbreaking events as that he had to suffer through? He sighed as the tip of his eyelashes held the tears back. He dared not to blink or his cheeks would be wet from those salty pearls of water and he didn't want to sacrifice those for the sake of Raoul. He felt as if his tears were the only innocent left in him after tonight's events. Naoki's silent hatred was not passing unnoticed although he tried his best to present a contained self. It was a struggle to even nod or to shake his head, hence speaking was impossible without breaking.

Raoul made no effort to push him further then he had already done, even though the Wolf inside him wanted to torment his precious prey additionally; just to hear him scream and cry, or to see him crumbling into madness. It would be so deliciously fulfilling to see Naoki at his feet bound in chains and shackles and tormented by blissful ache that would leave him exhausted and completely emptied of all emotions. The Master was soaking up the sufering of his beloved Pet as nurshment to his soul.

Now the boy was degraded into nothing, yet he dared not to confront his Master or he would loose the last fortress upholding his fragile pride. Raoul didn't want to deprave him of that and so he turned his attention to Iason and brought up the business of the future. At the same time his words reached for Katze like an invisible hand to include him in the conversation.

"There will be demonstrations against the meeting," Katze brought up and tore his gaze from Riki who sat across from him. "Rumors of this meeting have already spread across Ceres like a wild-fire, so you can expect a large mass wanting to be involved in the questions regarding their future."

"I know," Raoul said and looked outside the window. I had anticipated that. I contacted Hari Fachtna, the head of law enforcement."

"The chief of the Enforcement Intelligence Bureau?" Katze asked, while paying attention to the conversation.

Raoul nodded and enlightened Iason about the prosperous development of Fachtna's career the past months.

"You could say he is the directorate. Maybe just as well," he pointed out with a provocative tone. "He is the only one the word intelligence could apply to. He has fought his way to where he is today, a really hard working person that I respect. He is a brilliant tactic and completely devoid of empathy, which makes him dangerous and a relief to have on our side. Hari Fachtna is in charge of the military forces and has previously struck as unexpectedly as a cobra. "

"And how do their plans look?" Iason cut in.

"I have had a series of meetings with him concerning the matter, the last one this morning actually. Two hundred droids will be placed out around the conference centre where it has its weak points, snipers will be watching around the clock and guards will be patrolling in and outside the centre."

Raoul's explanation was good, but Iason it still made him feel uneasy. If things got out of control, the Elite would have to take drastic measure against the opposition.

"What about Ceres police," Riki asked although the matter had no concern to him.

"They are not as well equipped for these things," Katze sighed and lit his cigarette, but Raoul asked him to put it out since the smoke annoyed him.

"Won't there be a huge bloodshed if aggressions explode?" the mongrel went on in a worrying tone, but his Master stepped in to round up the discussions.

"Let's just hope that it doesn't come to any violence. It is not likely."

Iason knew he was lying, for the chances of an outburst of brutality were greater then a peaceful event.

A society is like a meadow of flowers. There are boundaries outside which the flowers do not bloom – laws to which structures are bound. The tallest and most successful ones, with the brightest colors and magnificent petals reach towards the skies to bask in the light each day the Sun rises above the horizon. Those that receive less light, the less fortunate ones, are shorter, weaker and closer to the cold ground. Then there are those that prefer the shades where they can live off the less fortunate ones without ever revealing their true identity. They are known as parasites, weeds; spreading their roots in the dirt until they formed a web beneath the meadow and impoverishing the ground – sucking the life out of all of the above.

The meadow looked flourishing and healthy form above, but beneath the dirt it was rotting.

The rebels were no longer a small groups or associations of frustrated individuals seeking for the comfort in likeminded. They had become a breathing organism that just like weed spread out of control and consumed all in its path. An organism with many heads and if one was cut off, another emerged from the network of roots; growing and advancing towards the skies.

The illegal weaponry was neatly lined in the transportation vehicles including explosives, minor launch systems and plasma rifles with enough capacity to vaporize five feet thick walls. The underground storage hangars were filled with equipment to take on Tanagura by force. The five rebel leaders strolled along the corridors. Their faces were like stone. None spoke. They didn't have to. All that had to be said, was already in the light and they all knew what was to come. As they arrived to the hangars, two thousand loyal followers roared out in tribute. Their eyes were black with hatred and their hands eager to handle weapons to subdue the oppression. There was, however, one person among them, whose hands did not lift a weapon towards the sky but a simple tool to capture the madness boiling under the streets of Ceres. This madness was about to surface and only a camera would be able to capture the undistorted truth about the war. Sean gazed up on the leaders standing on the ledge to the staircase, about a hundred yards from him. He could hardly see them from this distance, but he raised his camera to his eyes and focused in on the proud faces of the leaders that would lead these followers to their death and once again fire would be the only thing to cleanse the streets from the blood spilled by innocent and sinners.

The flowers would lose their petals; burn into black, charred remains on a dead meadow. But they would hopefully return to the impoverished ground to serve as a single source of nourishment for future generations.

It was what the leaders had said – thus it must be so. It was the right thing to do – the only thing to do in order to be free.

He lowered his camera and looked around. Hoping to catch a familiar face from the past of someone who had stirred his mind and heart. A stranger he had become obsessed with finding, but had not succeeded. He reached inside the jacket and took out a printed holographic photo of a black haired towering stranger. A beautiful face looked back at him and an instant flash of memory made Sean smile. He remembered the insecurity of the stranger, his obstinacy as Sean had proposed a daring session of ropes and leather and the hot kisses flowing from his lips. He was hoping to find this stranger among the rebels, but he had no such luck. It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the planet. No one had heard of him and no one had seen anyone resembling the descriptions he gave. Still, he haunted Sean's mind each time he closed his eyes. Who was that stranger? Well, if Sean would survive all this, he would most definitely search until he would find this person again.