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The Starved Rock Series

The Citizens of Ottawa, Illinois were your average, friendly Midwesterners. However, when seemingly insane things begin to happen, as any Patriotic American would, they answer the call. From the New World Order to the Total Collapse of Society, the Ottawans following the lead of the Ghost of Ottawa struggle and try to survive even the most impossible of odds stacked against them. But is their American Heritage and Midwestern Grit enough to survive? {Rated R due to profanity and the nature of the violence portrayed in the novel.}

Ghost_of_Ottawa · 军事
分數不夠
109 Chs

A Moment of Peace & Understanding

As the ribbon was cut, people began to wander around. The first stop was the Jordan Block. There, food vendors from the various parts of the Alliance had stalls set up and the lines were packed. From Sushi and Rice dishes, Texan Brisket, Gumboo, Jambalaya, to the forgotten recipes of Midwestern Party Salads and crazy Ottawa staple foods like a Mac n Cheese Burger. Even Tones Cones was slinging their best ice creams, sundaes, floats and cones. Many were attempting to gain access to the Wall of Fame in the Belt Buster and Kitchen Sink Eating Challenges the small Ice Cream place had to offer. 

As the Ghost made his way over, he stopped over to see President Keith, who'd set up a brisket and ribs station. 

"This is one mighty fine fair you Ottawans have put on."

"I'm glad you're enjoying the festivities! Fix me up a plate of that brisket you've got cooking. It's got my stomach growling like a top fuel drag car."

After he'd polished off the brisket, he made his rounds to the many booths and stalls of the various groups. The many groups had decided to come in force to participate in a far more relaxing event. For most, this was an event of much needed downtime. They'd been through some crazy things in the last year. Even with all of those things, the Ghost made it a priority that his citizens get periods of rest, relaxation. It was a good way to ensure they have far better lives than that of the average New World Order Citizen. 

Meanwhile, Scott had been in the theater watching the battle reels. The things Archie had filled him in on, began to make sense. His son wasn't upset that he'd survived.... He was trying to take a momentary pause in his mind to come to the realization that what he was seeing wasn't some specter trying to haunt him, rather, it was in fact, his dear old dad. 

As the reels played their most recent encounter with Rothschild's Chimera, those watching saw the Ghost pummel the enemy. However, while others cheered, only Scott understood what exactly was happening. From day one, his son hadn't fit the normal description for a child of the early 2000's. Rather, he'd make friends with plenty of people, and this persisted into his high school years, but those years were eerily similar in climate to the way things were now. 

Where others saw their dauntless hero, a father saw his son taking on a burden. One, normally easily handled when done by a group of people. "I'll be a better Atlas..." Scott muttered under his breath, finally seeing what it meant. The Ghost wasn't just trying to simply help people keep their heads above the ever darkening line of the New World Order. He was standing on a simple set of principles, ones he'd defended during high school. 

Once the reel was finished, Scott went to find his son. As he made his way down the many rows of Fair-goers, he found the Ghost standing at the ends of the Lower Lots Parking Lot, alone. 

"You should be enjoying the fair." 

"I wanted to come talk to you."

The Ghost turned, a gentle breeze blowing the cape Dr. Sue's wife had made him. 

"I'm all ears, Dad."

As they stood by on the riverbank, the questions and words his father spoke were ones the Ghost had wished to hear years ago. 

"To Be A Better Atlas..." The Ghost's gaze never left the Memorial Bridge Pillar Supports. "To answer a few questions at once, I'm still putting people on my shoulders, still doing things out of some outdated sense of honor, loyalty, even love at times. All things stolen from me, all things I wanted to keep, and yet..." The Ghost's copper eyes dulled for a brief moment. "It's because of those things I lost I am still standing here, standing for the values I find to be right, regardless of others opinions."

"That's a noble thing to do... and yet, a double-edged sword, son."

"You need not lecture me on the fact it's a double-edged sword." The Ghost's glare met Scott's gaze. "Unlike you, mom and whatever god is out there, forgiving the sins of the past, isn't my strong suit. Seeing as I am still collecting scars as proof of the sins I've paid for. Regardless of what those years of Sunday school and church taught me."

"You don't actually..."

"Believe that? Unlike the masses of socialite morons within the confines of this godforsaken country, the very same ones who blindly trusted the intentions of others... I learned never to trust the intentions of anyone, let alone the actions of those who are supposed to love, supposed to care, supposed to catch you when you're falling, spiraling into insanity..."

"Look, Mom and I..."

"We all speak for ourselves. I may be the voice of the people, but you and I, we speak to each other, on behalf of no one else. While I acknowledge I am not blameless, an unintentional action of mine led to the intentional stripping of my love, my sanity, and the very soul you'd claimed had vanished."

The breeze allowed the Ghost a moment to take a deep breath.

"Please understand, Dad. I am happy to see you alive, but Brittany watched me burn down that home. She watched me peer back over the edge of insanity, all because someone was trying to bring more pain into a place that brought me nothing but pain. On that day, I found out that the many scars I bear may have stopped bleeding and have healed... they do in fact run deep."

The Ghost readjusted his mask and began to head back. Just before he left, he turned back to his father. 

"Know that for as long as she defends her actions, I will have rage enough to put the New World Order down, conquer this world if I wanted, and still have plenty of fire left to make anyone who choose to make others suffer, and by God do I mean anyone, I will make them suffer with the fire that burns hotter than hell, and the willpower not even she could shatter."

The Ghost clenched his fist tightly and raised it above his head.

 "I'm not the hero who can reassure you everything is going to be fine, nor the hero who can forgive even a deed done in hate, but I am the hero who's never going to stop fighting, no matter the cost to myself....."

"Why, son? You should care about the cost!"

"Why, you ask? That's simple... What else have I got to lose? When what little love I have left to give and the single shred of sanity I cling to are on the line, I'd be willing to fight society if it meant saving them. Seeing as the Order is in charge of society now... That's just what I'll do."