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Equilibrium Fan Fiction
by David W. Huang
The
Cleric
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1 | 2
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Notes
Introduction
Based on concepts from Kurt
Wimmer's "Equilibrium."
The events of "The Cleric"
take place during two time lines. The first is several months after the
end of "Equilibrium" and the other is made up of flashbacks starting on
the day "Equilibrium" ends.
This story was started
shortly after watching the film three times in theaters and due a lot
to the promotion of it in the CHUD forums. I quit writing several
times, changed directions a few times, and am afraid I've forgotten
specific details from "Equilibrium" over time, but I hope the themes
are still there somewhat.
"The time has come." Pacing
on an ad hoc stage with terse energy, all eyes in the derelict
warehouse were focused on him. His audience flexed their trigger
fingers as they leaned against crates of munitions and narcotics.
"While those self-proclaimed statesmen debate endlessly on how best to
guide the path of us- the helpless masses- we die." The venom
and anger in his tone was infectious, those listening sneering along.
"As they seek out their places in history upon our fates, we die.
Whilst they see only the high ideals of government and law, they're
blind to the lawlessness happening here and now as we die. Well, no
more. No more! It is their turn to die!" His impassioned
rhetoric sent his cohorts to their feet, their voices and rifles
raised. To be suddenly silenced.
[*BLAM!*]
The gunshot
made them jump. The bullet through their leader's head made him fall.
But they didn't notice. They were too busy dying. Only a few realized
what was happening and, of those, only some had time to react. Who was
shooting? Where was it coming from? Had the Ministry found them? Death
danced among them silencing their questions.
When it was
all over only one walked away? as composed as he came.
"Damn."
"First day
and we get a job like this."
"Nate, we only get jobs like this."
She was
right. The agents of SIMM only dealt with the messes. Since the fall of
Libria, the revolutionists had been struggling to create a new order,
treading carefully on the line between chaos and oppression. A
provisional government, the Ministry of the New Republic, was thrown
together to decide upon the foundations on which the new society would
be built. Statesmen representing every faction and viewpoint gathered
to debate these building blocks. Unfortunately, little progress was
ever being made… other than their hatred of Father, they had little
else in common. Their views on government and politics varied from
Communists to Federalists to Anarchists to Capitalists and so on. As
they struggled to find a common ground, a world awakening to emotion
tried to run on autopilot. Naturally, there were problems.
The Ministry
tried to let people govern themselves as much as possible but a branch
of enforcement- without the force- was necessary, the Special
Investigations and Mediation Ministry or SIMM... and its agents, the
Ministers. The dual meaning's similarity to Cleric was no accident.
With no law or social consensus, Ministers were without anymore
authority than given to them by consent. The name invoked the same
fear- and hatred, in some- of the Cleric while stressing this was a
temporary arrangement to be terminated as soon as possible.
Ministers
Tatiana Cassidy and Nathan Loric surveyed the carnage.
"Drug
dealers? Strictly speaking drugs aren't illegal- except Prozium- but
they could be outlawed at any time so there's a black market of sorts."
Nathan shook his head and picked up an automatic rifle.
"Would be
coup d'etat. The drugs were just to be bartered for all the guns. But a
good theory. This probably would have been written off as a drug turf
war if Statesman Prescott's son wasn't involved."
"Highly
vocal activist against pretty much everything his father stands for,
right? Which one is he?"
"Looks like
the guy under this one. Cassidy, this scene's all wrong."
"Should we
ask the locals if they touched anything? They were nice to baby-sit the
scene but they're not enforcement trained. Well, neither are we but
that's not the point-"
"No, aside
from a few missing guns- and probably drugs- I don't think they moved
the bodies."
"How can you
tell?"
"Blood
splatter and lividity. I've seen my share of violence, remember."
"Sure, only
survivor of your rebel cell, how could I forget.", Tia rolled her eyes.
Nathan's reputed experience made him the primary in terms of
investigations while she would be expected to handle the meditations.
SIMM partnerships were of such dissimilar pairs to supply checks and
balances.
"The problem
we've got is motive and means. If this were a turf war, why not take
the goods and guns? If this was a hit, then how did they do it?"
"What do you
mean? They shot everybody."
"Without
getting hit? There's no blood or bodies from the other side."
"So they
cleaned up or hit them by surprise."
"No, these
bodies haven't been dead long enough for a clean up. There's enough
return fire evident in the walls that someone should've been hit."
"'Should've...?'
Are you suggesting Gun Kata?"
"Look at
these guys. Almost every hit is center mass or a headshot with only a
few rounds each. A hit squad would have riddled them with bullets.
Plus, I've got this." Nate pulled a stove-piped bullet casing from the
rifle's ejection port and dropped the gun.
"Brass? But
that's from a victim, how does that help?"
"Look
around. The only casings are from the victims." A look of wonder began
to dawn on Tatiana's face.
"How is that
possible? They're shot all to hell. Was he right in the middle of them?"
"Probably by
the time these guys died, if you look over here. But if you're
suggesting the gun casings got mixed up, rifle casings are very
different than Cleric T30 casings."
"Right, but
T30's are different still... they're caseless. Let me show you." He
walked over to an open crate of munitions and pulled out two boxes of
ammo. Nathan took out what looked like a square piece of chalk. He
removed a knife from his coat and cut into it. "This is a caseless
round. Everything except the bullet burns up upon ignition. Without
casing and using smaller- but faster- bullets a T30 has about double
the capacity of a typical pistol and by skipping the extraction and
ejection phase a firing rate that rivals most machine guns. The
downside is that tolerances are tight and the costs are high. This one
round is roughly equal to this entire box of rifle ammo in price, but
no expense would be spared for the Tetragrammaton." Nathan let it set
in. His partner let out a low whistle.
"A Cleric."
"It all adds
up. If the revolutionists hadn't bombed the Cleric headquarters, we
could've probably used their forensics lab to confirm it. But I'd say
the missing boxes of caseless ammo from this crate clinches it. As much
as one man could carry."
"Damn, a
Cleric. I thought they were all captured and killed... except for John
Preston. The Partisans got worried about which side he might back and
his ability to single-handedly bring down a government. Negotiating
with any faction he supported would be like debating against the end of
a gun barrel. It would have been easier to kill him but out of
gratitude and respect they just disarmed and exiled him. You don't
think he's come back?"
"It's not
Preston. His T30s were taken, like you said, and he went willingly. But
it's definitely a Cleric. No one knows how Gun Kata is practiced except
any surviving Clerics. We lost that data during the revolution."
"Then how do
we stop him?"
"Good
question."
Through a
riflescope from a distant factory window, the two Ministers were
observed talking with locals outside a bit before getting into their
cars and driving off.
Nathan
rushed into his apartment, locked himself in his bedroom, and began to
shake. Containing so much emotion was difficult to take, much less
acting "normal" over it. The masquerade was hardly easy, but he had
been getting by. He had used intelligence about the Underground to
infiltrate it after the fact. To impersonate what he had been trained
to hunt. At first, it was survival, but it was becoming his desire. If
he had any sense, he'd run. Abandon this life and disappear. But now he
wanted this life.
Incredibly, he feared losing it. A proposition completely alien to him only months
ago.
The act
could have continued if not for the Clerics.
He moved his
bed away from the wall and began to remove the screws from a vent
behind the headboard. Reaching inside, Loric pulled out a segment of
aluminum ducting and felt along the space behind the wall. Retrieving a
case, he tossed it on the bed and opened it. He let out the breath he
hadn't realized he was holding. Before him were his Cleric T30 pistols.
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