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The crowd of faithful gathered at the steps to the giant cathedral of St. Brutus. Hundreds if not thousands of people shouting, chanting a melody of death, occasionally throwing a rock all of this, aimed at three figures standing on a wooden platform just below the marble steps to the blessed church. The general uproar of the thriving masses could be heard in a three mile radius around the old living quarters, and has even managed to reach the tunnels of the second layer of the Undercity.  As if in a hypnotizing trance, many people passing by joined the crowds, not fully aware of what was going on but none the less mesmerized by the crowds shouting Filth! and Scum! every few seconds. Most probably, only the first few rows of outraged citizens knew what the reason behind this gathering was.

Looming over the crowds, its towers and turrets reaching heights close to those of the pillars that held the bulk of the Uppercity, the cathedral of St. Brutus stood as a monument and testimony of the power of God. Its gray walls adorned with statues representing the suffering of mankind in all of its forms. Wretched figures twisted in pain, disfigured faces of revolt, nails digging into marble flesh, eyes of stone bulging out, lifeless grimaces of pious believers who have felt the wrath of God. But as impressive as the cathedral might have been, what even more amazed all of the gathered, was just how much more of a fortress the cathedral was, rather than a house of prayer. Each of the giant buildings towers and wall were mounted full of gun pods of a wide assortment. High-caliber defensive weaponry paired with helipads and innumerable amounts of battle clerics strolling down the garrisoned wall of the church, now and then stopping to take a look at the gathering way down below.

The mass of people had gathered in a square in the center of the A-2 block of the Ground Zero level of the City-Nation of Vatican the biggest metropolis, built on the ashes of the old Vatican City, a few years after the Crusade of AD. 96 and the unification act of Agea which proclaimed the Holy Ecclesiastical Church the leader of Earth. Ecclesiastic Christianity has become the only legal and true religion that could be worshiped on Earth, all that failed to follow the truth of the one and almighty God were to be considered heretics and be burnt at the stake. Today, the City-Nation of Vatican stretched all over the old land masses of ancient Europa. Today, Vatican stood as a capital of a modern yet pious world. It was a bold statement to the people of planet Earth, that God was with them and that the Ecclesiarchy was the His hammer of vengeance. Since AD. 112, gatherings like the one witnessed on this day were rather unusual. Fear pushed people towards converting their faiths, abandoning what they used to believe simply to avoid persecution, and to spare the lives of their beloved families. But lately it seemed that the Church has started to once again question the true believers of its people.

And proof of this were the three people standing on a raised wooden platform, stripped to dirty rags, hands and ankles bound with ropes, hoods pulled over their heads. They were surrounded by dozens of armed clerics. Each one of them wearing identical black soldier uniforms, silver buttons running down the length of their waistcoats, a red cross stitched to their right arms. Laser rifles held in their arms, reflected the light shining from the millions of reflectors hanging from the thick plates that created the ground of the Uppercity, imitating sunlight and various other weather conditions, all depending on the moods of the Meteorological Control Stations. Today, the weatherboard systems were pouring down pleasant waves of warmth as well as a refreshing breeze down on the citizens of Ground Zero, Sector A-2. But the pleasant weather did nothing to stop the hatred of the crowds and the fear of the three prisoners. No one could tell who the three convicts were apart from the fact that the one I the middle was a tiny, little child of perhaps five or six. The other two figures probably its parents, were whispering words of comfort to the child that was sobbing loudly. They all stood on ignition charges, about to die a painful slow death, consumed by flames. But no one seemed to care. In fact they demanded it. The crowds wanted blood and that was what they were going to receive.
Ok, ok. So I had this wild idea to write a here is the first page. A4, size so once completed the first page will be smaller, but none the less, I would really like to know what You people think and send me some feedback. Big thanks in advance for Your comments! Just by the way, good reviews/critiques will be more then welcome and will motivate me for further writing. My English Teacher/Mentor gave me the thumbs up so I'm happy, but recently lost the passion and the manuscripts are stagnating somewhere in a cupboard. But I've got a five day break from tomorrow, so hopefully I will get some writing done:D

Quick Edit:
[link] to Chapter 1. Decided to upload it.
I felt engulfed into this story's setting, I felt as if I was a witness in the crowd, and this was only from the first page. In one page, the setting is developed, there is a tense situation, and to top it all off, it made me as a reader hungry for more, I'm practically demanding satisfaction from this. You did a splendid job with what you had in mind overall, and I hope to see this in the group as a series of great chapters. For mine as a fans sake and for others that read this, don't lose your drive for this, this is an idea too good to put in a pile of "maybe" writing ideas.
What do you think?
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Submitted on
April 4, 2012
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