John Doe. Prologue Finale.

Pain.

The first thought that appeared inside John's mind the instant he woke up was just how much his body hurt.

It wasn't the sharp, piercing ache that one would feel on getting a cut or being stabbed. Rather, it was the dull, persistent ache that one would feel after being beaten up.

Biting down on his teeth to not let out any cries of pain, John slowly opened his eyes.

Light!

Bright light flooded his vision, blinding him momentarily. He rapidly blinked and struggled through his tearing eyes before he managed to get used to the brightness in front of him. Properly opening his eyes, John peered at his surroundings.

He found himself sitting on a chair, wearing a straitjacket inside a plain 3x3m room built solely of concrete. He then tried to struggle with his body, only to realize that his legs and the rear of his restraint had been cuffed to the ground.

Sighing out loudly at this discovery, John raised his head and stared at the only object of interest within this room; a speaker.

"Hey! Can you hear me? Hello!"

There was no response from the speaker. Undaunted, John continued to speak.

"Can you at least tell me which agency got to me first? Is it the CIA? MI6? KGB? Or is it the Mossad?"

His eyes then suddenly lit up with understanding.

"Is it my friends from the east?"

"It's not."

An androgynous, obviously disguised voice replied through the speaker.

"It's not, huh? Well, can you tell me why I'm here then?" John asked.

"You should very well know the answer to that, Mr. Doe."

Hearing that reply, John lowered his head and contemplated. After a few seconds, he let out a heavy sigh and replied.

"Is this because I refused to donate $2 at the counter when I went to the supermarket last month? Cause, if this is about that, then let me tell you about my reason for not doing that."

A serious look appeared on John's face as he continued.

"For you see, it's all about not giving in to the corpora--"

He was abruptly interrupted by an enraged yell originating from the speaker.

"I'm talking about your crimes against humanity!"

"Oh…" A look of belated realization appeared on John's face. "You're talking about 'that'. Now that you say that, I do recall someone screaming something like that before I was tranquilized and knocked unconscious."

"Which, if you don't mind me saying, was a very rude thing to do!" He declared with righteous anger.

Leaning back onto his chair, he wriggled a little to adjust his hands that were restrained inside the straitjacket into a more comfortable position. He then continued.

"Seriously, Miranda. If you wanted to meet me so bad, you could've just called me, you know?"

John languidly looked at the speaker with a knowing smile.

"Haa…" A long, heavy sigh was heard from the speaker. "...How did you know that it was me? I had my voice disguised and was even speaking with a different accent."

"Easy thing, really."

John casually shrugged his shoulder, to the best of his ability given his current circumstance, and explained.

"Your word choice, tone, unconscious speaking habits, sentence formation, and deliverance…there were tons of clues hidden inside your speech. All I had to do to find out who was talking was to simply look."

"Well, listen actually. I can't 'look' at sounds. Not without synesthesia, at least." He quickly corrected himself.

Hearing his explanation there was a prolonged silence in the other end of the speaker.

"You still continue to surprise me, John. Your intellect and ability...I've honestly never seen anything like that."

"I'm flattered. Now, tell me why I'm here."

John asked with a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

"You've run out of time, John. For too long your deeds have gone unpunished. The people cannot stay quiet any longer and we…I, in good conscience, cannot allow you to roam free anymore."

"The time has come for you to pay for your sins."

Miranda grimly declared through the speaker.

"I see…" John replied and lowered his head. His face showed no expression and his body showed no movement.

After what seemed like an eternity, the heavy silence parted.

"So I'm being sacrificed to justify the meaningless war you're going to start, huh?"

Looking up, John had an expression of exhilaration plastered on his face.

"Bravo! Miranda. Bra-freaking-vo!! As expected of someone who served as my adjutant for two years! You sure learned well from me, didn't you?"

"Seriously, if not for this straitjacket restricting me, I would be giving you a standing ovation right now! Brilliantly done."

His words of appreciation, however, seemed to go unnoticed by Miranda. With shock apparent even in her disguised voice, she asked.

"H-how did you know about the war!!?"

"Oh, you know…" he languidly laid back on his chair and lackadaisically answered, "the newspaper."

Silence reigned for the following few minutes as neither of the two talked.

John continued to be very casual about the entire affair, seemingly without the slightest care in the world.

After a solid ten minutes of painful silence, Miranda strictly declared.

"John Doe, you have been charged, tried, and found guilty for your vile crimes against humanity. Said crimes are numerous in quantity and sinister in nature, the most egregious of these to be cited herewith: first-degree murder, arson, kidnapping, targeted assassination…"

A long list of crimes that took three-full minutes to fully read was stated.

"…no one person in the history of law, and perhaps Mankind itself, has had so many crimes staked against his name. As such, there isn't one punishment out there which can fully bear upon you the weight of the law."

An instant of silence later, she continued.

"That being said, the meritorious deeds that you have conferred upon Mankind are almost equal to the crimes that you've committed. The weight of which would usually be enough to forgive a number of your transgressions."

"Still, you're continued disregard for the value of a human life and the fact that you feel no guilt, whatsoever, towards your actions, you have sentenced to be, on this day,…"

"please be the chair…please be the chair…please be the chair…"

John continuously mumbled under his breath, the expectation within his voice being tangible.

"…hung by the neck until dead."

"OH, COME ON!!"

John bellowed, the rage within his voice unfiltered.

"You intentionally did this to me, even though you knew just how much I wanted the chair!! Damn you, Miranda! DAMN YOU!!"

Unconcerned with his curses, Miranda piously declared.

"May God have mercy on your soul."

"GOD CAN HAVE MERCY ON MY D--"

The sudden sound of something cutting through the air was heard and John felt a familiar ache on his neck. Feeling himself losing strength in his limbs once again, John cursed.

'Ah, fu*k! Not again!!'

----------

Waking up once again, John felt a cool breeze strike him against his face. He could smell the distinct scent of the sea as its salty shares lingered around his nose.

Opening his eyes with difficulty, John found himself greeted by the endless expanse of the Pacific Ocean.

Looking at this scene, a smile appeared on his face as he hoarsely mumbled.

"Not bad, Miranda. I'll cut you some slack for securing me this excellent view."

He then felt his body being secured differently. He looked down and caught sight of the coir noose around his neck. His hands seemed to be tied behind his back and his legs seemed to be resting on a wooden platform of sorts.

Directing his gaze towards the sides, John immediately discovered multiple drones attached with cameras flying around him and filming him from a distance.

"Ah, I'm being recorded and broadcasted too. How nice."

He then smiled with his aging face towards the cameras and loudly greeted.

"Hello, people of the world! How's it hanging?" He then chuckled to himself and continued. "More like, who is it hanging? Me!"

Shaking his head, he then stared straight towards the endlessly blue expanse. The sky had been cloudy for some time and rain seemed to finally fall.

Feeling the droplets strike against his body, John muttered.

"How poetic, even the sky seems to cry for me. If only—"

His words came to an abrupt halt as the floor beneath his feet gave way. John plunged towards the earth and the noose around his neck almost immediately caught him.

Feeling the air escape his lungs and darkness slowly cease him, a peaceful smile appeared on his face as he closed his eyes.

Quietly, he muttered.

"So long…Farewell…auf Wieder…se..hen…goo—"

His words came to an abrupt pause. With the final twitch of his legs, John's body came to a complete stop.

----------

Seated behind an elaborate marble desk, a quaintly-dressed middle-aged lady watched the large TV screen before her. Hearing his final words and seeing the final twitch of his legs, she softly replied.

"Goodbye to you too, John."

Exhaling a sigh, she reached out for the TV's remote. Holding it in her hands, just as she was about to turn it off, the picture within the screen suddenly flickered…before changing entirely!

On the screen was John dressed in a long, loose white robe.

"Hello everyone! Did you miss me?"

At the same moment, every single device around the entire world which was tuned into the broadcast saw the same video. The only difference was the language that came out of John's mouth.

"Konichiwa!..."

"Namaste!..."

"Guten Tag!..."

Inside Miranda's office, she continued to watch the screen with an expression of shock plastered on her face.

"Did you really think that I would die that easily? Well, guess what…I really did die that easily. Yep! I'm completely and totally dead. Good riddance, am I right?"

"Anyway, what you're watching now is a pre-recorded message that I made months before my death. Calculating and planning for my exact date of death was honestly a pain but well, here we are."

"If everything went according to plan, you should be seeing this broadcast, just moments after my death."

Widening his arms, he continued casually.

"I originally wanted to broadcast this worldwide three days later, you know? Go for the whole 'Jesus' narrative," he gestured at his dress, "however, I couldn't secure a broadcast time for three days later so we'll have to make do with today!"

"Now, let's get to the point."

John faked an expression of pondering and folded his arms. Resting his chin on the plan of his right hand, he spoke.

"You might be thinking, 'What is the point of making this? It can't be that he simply wanted to talk on world TV, right?' If you're thinking this, then you are correct, my friend!"

"The reason I'm making this recording is because, I, have an exciting new game for all of you to play! A game that can be played by anybody, irrespective of age, gender, and class!"

"What's the name of this game, you ask? Well, it's called 'Find the Bomb Before the Timer Runs Out!'"

"Now then, rules of the game. It's pretty self-explanatory, actually."

"All you have to do; is to find the twenty-four terrible, terrible bombs that I've hidden throughout the world! Oh, and did I mention that the bombs are NUCLEAR! Exciting stuff, right?"

"All of the bombs will exactly go off in THREE years from this instant, so everyone, you better set your clocks correctly."

Clapping his hands, John smiled.

"I believe that I don't have to tell you what will happen if you fail in finding these bombs. As someone who has lived a few years in the north, let me warn you; winter is not all 'snowmen' and 'warm hearths'. It's terrible, cold, and most importantly, your socks are always damp for some reason!"

"Anyway, enough from me. I wish you all good luck in your mandatory quest. May you play well and prevail."

"Goodbye and Godspee--"

BANG!

Miranda threw the remote towards the large TV in her office causing it to fall and break. Visible fumes could be seen exiting her nostrils as she irately declared.

"JOHN DOE, YOU SON OF A—"

Her enraged screams were quickly drowned by the sounds of multiple phones ringing at the same time.

And that is how the story of a man called John Doe came to an end.

----------

At the same time that John's 'Final Act of Malice', or so the media called it, broadcasted, the eyes of a small, malnourished youth chained against the walls of a dark dungeon, opened.

His sky-blue eyes which were hollow and sunken blinked with confusion.

"I'm…not dead?"