Extreme

3. Before It All Began

Francis Stillwater, now a man, had kept his promise.

Before, there was cruelty. Now, there was hope.

Although, mankind still choose hate over love. But with all he had done to take off the blindfold of the little amount willing to change their cruel ways, he was able to walk the streets, the sun feeling warmer as everything felt brighter.

But is it really? His subconscious would always ask, bringing back all the dark he had lit away.

Francis stared down at the ground, sighing. All around him the people unwilling to change surrounded him, feeling as if they were crowding him in his pain. He would never see them as people, but as monsters.

He saw too much to bare the slightest of humanity.

But humans are intelligent, compassionate and ambitious.

Yet, destructive.

Yet, cruel.

Francis had seen it all. The stupidity, the cruelty and anything else as hopeless as the actions and beliefs of humanity.

His father had always admired humanity.

Their ability to think, and their emotion to feel. He found himself curious about them and saw the beauty in them. Such magnificent creatures he thought of them as, but not as magnificent as the creatures he had made them to be.

Zombies.

Humanity is cruel, Francis thought to himself, his mind wandering back to those dark days.

The nights of his nightmares.

In his pocket, there he held his deceased father, Victor Stillwater. He held a photograph of his, in which he pulled out to stare down at him, a faint smile on his face.

"Good evening, father," He welcomed him warmly, as if he were right there, standing in front of him.

As calm he had seemed, he felt as if he kicking and ripping apart all the ones that hurt. As if he were breaking and burning. Soon, he felt, violence would not be his enemy, but his victory.

"I know things are going extremely slow in all the years I have dedicated to our organisation, but no one has really been willing enough to join," He told him. "But I promise, I will give them what you were unable to give them; what they deserve."

Despite feeling as if he were there, he felt lonely. He was not there, but gone with rest. Tragically ended by a bullet shot into his head, the gun held in the hands of a human he had feared he would never know of before his own passing.

If the unknown killer of his father were to be known, he would've avenged his father and shot the bastard back like they did him already.

All he knew his father to be was a man striving for peace and freedom of the innocents that suffered. Yet his killer left off, never turning back as if he had killed so many times before.

I will find you, Francis vowed, hands gripped tightly on the photograph of his father. And when I do, I will kill you.

"Francis," A man suddenly called out, snapping him out from his dark thoughts.

He quickly put his father's photo back into his side pocket, his father to be seen afterwards. He looked up and put on a smile, seeing who was walking towards him.

"Liam," He greeted the familiar man, giving his hat a bow.

The man, Liam Hollis, approached him, smiling softly. He leaned against the wall beside him, staring cautiously at the people that passed by. They gave him a small glimpse, almost none not caring to give him any thought, just continuing straight ahead.