Fall of The Anarchists (Part-1)

(Edited Ver-1)

The day that Lucas most dreaded had finally come.

It was the fall of the anarchists.

Their top secret HQ in the tropical island had been infiltrated by the heroes. Lucas lay panting at the edge of a cliff, full of wounds. The Hero loomed above him, a revolver pointed at his temple.

"It's the end of the line Lucas. This farce ends now. This world is better off without the Anarchists"

"You are right Mr. Hero, It is indeed time to end this farce. However did you really think you would find anything here."

"What are you talking about?" the hero asked sharply.

"As much as you are a figure of hope and justice, dear hero. You must realise that the only reason you have so many people helping you attack us is for getting our resources. Secret technologies and other records of our deeds."

"So what?" hints of uncertainity slowly filled his voice.

"Did you really think that we- the Anarchists. The so called 'insane cultist terrorists' would leave shit for you?"

The Hero's face immediately paled.

Taking advantage of the distraction Lucas yelled into his transciever. "Vincent - kill them all!"

"My pleasure!" laughing maniacally, he pressed the big red button.

Almost simultaneously an immense explosion came over from the centre of the island. However before the shockwaves could reach him, Lucas tackled the hero and they both went tumbling off the cliff into the ocean.

They both splashed into the ocean. Lucas was already heavily injured, the fall seemed to suck away the last of the breaths from him.

"Are you crazy, Lucas!" the hero mouthed, or at least that's what Lucas thought it was.

"Crazy! No, I have never been more sane. If this world doesn't need us any more. We will leave it ourselves. We never got to choose how we lived, we can at least choose how we die."

Lucas declared. Of course the hero probably couldn't hear him, Lucas couldn't care less anyways.

Sinking admist a red haze of his own blood, Lucas could see the hero looking at him from the surface with a complicated expression. If Lucas hadn't tackled him off the cliff, he wouldn't have survived.

As Lucas went deeper and deeper, his thoughts started to wander.

"Was I really wrong."

He tried to grasp the bubbles leaving his mouth, but they evaded him just like his life-force slowly ebbed away.

The Hero's words still echoed in his head, - "I once respected you! We could have been great friends, if only you hadn't gone down the path of evil."

How nauseating.

Self-righteous bull-crap!

Lucas never went down the path of evil, he went down the path of anarchy. He just wanted to survive and be in control of his own life! Was he wrong. Did he really deserve to be destroyed by a goody two shoes hero like some sort of cliched villain.

He wasn't denying that he had sinned.

He had.

928,437 people.

That's the number of deaths the anarchists and thus, he was responsible for.

However he had only ever murdered one person his whole life. Stabbed him right through the back when he was least expecting. The blood trickled down his hands onto the cold floor and the soulless eyes of the corpse seemed to be asking him only one question-"Why?"

However it was all for his goal.

He wasn't a villain.

He was an anarchist.

He was the f*ckin' Prince of shadows the whole world feared.

That scum of a hero would long have been destroyed by the very nations he was trying to save if they weren't busy trying to deal with the anarchists. If the anarchists hadn't killed most of the human scum, and implanted fear into the hearts of the rest. No one would have supported the hero's campaigns. The hero wouldn't have been able to change the world for the better if the threat of the anarchists weren't looming by. And he DARED to call him, Lucas evil!

However, deep down Lucas knew that this wasn't what really haunted him, he had often been detested by the world and called a villain.

.

.

.

Lucas had never lost.

Not since the day his father died. A person too good for his time, someone too soft, and someone who believed in heroes. Heroes that never came. Heroes that were just a pipe dream, that once broken by reality would bring in the most crushing feeling of helplessness. Since that day Lucas had vowed to himself that he would never feel that helpless again. He would never lose to the world again, he wouldn't be soft-hearted. He would become the most powerful man alive. He would hold so much power that nothing will be able to get in his way and no one would suffer the way he did.

But today, he had lost.

To a hero.

All the schemes, plots, betrayals and backstabbing.

All the sins, the murders, the effort and the tears.

It had all been for nothing.

The anarchists were wiped off this world.

Martin was missing.

Vincent had blown himself and their base together to kingdom come, though he did take care of the parasites that still survived and followed the hero in the process.

At least the world was now a better place, and there wouldn't be more people like him in the future. He might have not had the last laugh but he did get rid this world of all the cancerous infestations it had.

Lucas slowly closed his eyes and let the darkness slowly embrace him. The prince of shadows was returning to the shadows.

However just before he could be completely embraced by eternal darkness, his blood seemed to re-arrange itself into a 4-dimensional pentagram that glowed a deep crimson.

Then he vanished without a trace.