I want to become a killer

The next day came like a wave, crashing over everything, sweeping away the last remnants of peace. The protests had grown into full-blown riots. The southern districts were engulfed in chaos. Fires burned in the streets, and the air was thick with smoke and tension. The once-beautiful city, the symbol of our revolution, had become an unrecognizable battleground. What was once meant to be a beacon of hope had now become a reflection of the very thing we had fought against: corruption, violence, and decay.

Mara and I had spent the entire night in the command center, working to control the narrative, issuing orders, trying to calm the situation. But nothing was enough. The anger had taken on a life of its own, and it was no longer something we could simply manage with meetings or speeches. This was about more than politics—it was about survival, about a broken system that had let too many people down.

I sat in the command room, staring at the monitors as they flickered with images of destruction. I could hear the distant sirens wailing, the occasional gunshots echoing from the streets. My mind was racing, but there was a gnawing emptiness in my chest. I didn't know how to stop it anymore.

"Where's Mara?" I asked, my voice low.

One of the officers looked up from his desk, his face grim. "She's been coordinating with the military. They're deploying reinforcements in the southern districts. The situation's escalating rapidly."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure I believed in the reinforcements anymore. Every attempt to bring order had only added fuel to the fire. The police were outnumbered, and the military wasn't trained for this kind of conflict. We weren't fighting an enemy anymore—we were fighting a force that was as much about ideology as it was about rage.

I stood up abruptly, unable to sit still. I had to do something—anything. I couldn't just sit here while the city was burning.

I moved toward the door, but before I could step outside, my communicator buzzed. I looked down to see Mara's name flashing on the screen. I answered it quickly.

"Psycho," her voice crackled, sharp and urgent. "I need you at the southern perimeter, now."

"What's happening?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

"We've lost contact with the reinforcements," she replied, her voice tight. "The rioters have surrounded the checkpoint. It's not looking good."

I ran my hand over my face, trying to collect my thoughts. This wasn't just about maintaining control anymore. This was about survival. About not letting this thing spiral out of our hands.

"Give me the coordinates," I said, already moving toward the exit.

I didn't wait for a reply, just turned and pushed through the doors, stepping out into the chaos. The city was alive with noise, the air thick with smoke. In the distance, I could see the flicker of flames, the red glow reflecting off the buildings. The ground shook beneath my feet with the sound of marching footsteps, the hum of military vehicles moving through the streets. It felt like the whole world was crumbling.

I arrived at the southern perimeter a short time later, the place teeming with soldiers and riot police. The scene was chaotic—orders shouted over the noise, barricades being set up, people running in all directions. I could feel the pulse of fear in the air, the tension hanging heavy like a storm waiting to break.

I found Mara near the front, standing with a group of officers, her expression hard. Her eyes locked onto mine as I approached.

"Psycho, you're here," she said, though there was no relief in her voice, just more urgency. "We're losing ground. The rioters have split into smaller groups. They're attacking from multiple angles. We can't hold them off much longer."

I looked around, scanning the scene. It was bad. Worse than I had imagined. The military reinforcements had barely made it through the perimeter before being overwhelmed. The rioters were everywhere—groups of people, some armed, some not, but all with one goal: to tear everything down.

I could hear their chants even from this distance—shouting for justice, for revenge, for change. They were demanding an end to the system, but I knew what that meant. They didn't just want to replace the government—they wanted to destroy it completely. And once it was gone, what would take its place?

"Where are the civilians?" I asked, my voice grim.

"Some of them are caught in the crossfire," Mara said, her voice tight with frustration. "We've been trying to evacuate, but it's difficult with the rioters everywhere. The city's grid is falling apart. It's not safe anymore."

I clenched my fists. I hadn't wanted this. I hadn't wanted to see the revolution turn into this. I thought I could fix it. I thought I could be the leader they needed, the leader who would bring about change without the bloodshed. But now, it was clear: we were at war—not just with the rioters, but with ourselves.

"We need to push back," I said, turning toward the military officer beside me. "Get your men into position. We're going to reclaim this sector."

The officer hesitated, looking uncertain, but Mara spoke up, her voice steady despite the chaos. "Psycho, if we push back too hard, we'll lose them. This isn't just about control. If we use force now, we'll be feeding into what they want: violence, chaos."

I looked at her, the weight of her words sinking in. She was right, of course. Every step we took toward violence, every arrest, every clash would just fuel the fire. It would turn us into what they feared we already were—the same thing the old regime had been.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This wasn't just about military strategy. It was about what came after. How did we rebuild once this was over? How could we change the system without destroying everything we had fought for?

"Tell the reinforcements to fall back," I said, the decision weighing heavily on me. "We'll try a different approach. No more force. We need to talk to them."

Mara stared at me, disbelief in her eyes. "Talk to them? Psycho, you can't be serious. Do you really think that's going to work now?"

I met her gaze, my mind made up. "We've already tried everything else. We can't afford to keep fighting. Not like this."

She didn't argue, though I could see the doubt in her expression. But she trusted me. She always had.

I turned back to the officers, issuing the orders. "We'll go out there and speak to them. Calm them down. If we can do that, we can avoid more bloodshed. But if we fail..."

The unspoken words hung in the air. If we failed, everything would fall apart. This would be the end of the revolution, the end of everything we had built.

We made our way into the heart of the southern districts, the sounds of the rioters growing louder. I didn't know if it would work, if anything could work. But I had to try.

The city was burning. But maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to save it.

........

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