Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation ❯ III - K - Frontpage: Dermail Resigns ( Chapter 26 )

“Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation”

How these 4 s-words are intertwined with one another

By Masamune Reforged

WhenShootingStarsFall.com

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the Gundam characters, they are the property of Bandai, Sunrise or someone else, but not me. I use them for no-profit whatsoever, but for entertainment's gain.

Warnings: Yaoi, cursing, drug use, violence, angst, insanity, cameos, AU, lunacy, sanity.

 

Part K of “In the Concrete Jungle”, Page III in the s4 arc.

“Frontpage: Dermail Resigns; Kushrenada to take office?”

3rd Person Narration

 

A dense brush of cameras brave a slick, ever-whitening concrete ground. Microphones fight the murmur of the primitive fleshy creatures gathered like a horde all around them. A column of news vans clog the asphalt valley. Hawk-eyed snipers and helicopters linger in and above the massive metal and glass mountains that are like razorblades against the creamy flesh of the sky. The natives are restless.

 

The date is the 24th of February and it is snowing in the concrete jungle.

 

Out ambles the king of this place, so crammed with life and activity that it often offends the senses. His is a domain of the exotic and wild, a complex environment with more pitfalls and snakes than darkest Africa, full of territorial instincts and maintained by the never-ending cycle of hunter and prey.

 

The natives clamber like apes, primitively overworking their abused tools. The lion does not blink against the torrent of light flashes or the collective roar of the mutinous throng. You don't stay king if you scare that easily. With a hand, he silences all but the deaf twinkles of flashbulbs.

 

He is old, grey and white, appearing even more terrible in his austere, authoritative age than he was when he was faster and stronger in both mind and body. His steely eyes snarl at the swarming mass gaping at him in well-learned respect; licking their chops for a bloody offering instinctively. He clears his throat and even the wind stops.

 

“It has been my pleasure to serve as mayor of Metro City for these past twenty-some years.” His voice commands respect. His words must be recorded with rapt ear. “When I think about all I was able to accomplish, all of the things I have done here, I have no regrets. I have been honored to govern this great city for as long as I have; and from the bottom of my heart I hoped to continue for longer.”

 

The crowd murmurs. It is a crack in the pride. The wolves in the shadow edge closer, drooling. The wintry wind blows the king's elegant garb about, a regal fur coat, perhaps a trophy from one of his great conquests. But today it is he who must admit defeat.

 

“However, due to recent... personal matters...”

 

The natives cluck to each other in hushed voices. The fangs are dull. The old king, and how old he suddenly seems!, is at his last. He licks his lips nervously, his eyes dart around insecurely.

 

He draws his last. “I have decided to resign from my post.”

 

The king is dead. The reign is over. Innumerable flashes of lightning immortalize the moment like taxidermists. All had wondered what this moment would be like, but never could they quite imagine the day it would come.

 

The deposed god, for he was like a god, breathes heavily into the microphone. The wind picks up suddenly, sweeping away the papers containing his final, carefully prepared speech. There is laughter. Some of the vultures descend from the wings upon the papers. For a minute all is chaos. Then, as if trying to act like some advanced species of creature, everyone seems to remember where they are and why they are there. The natives look at their leader expectantly, so accustomed to his guidance and leadership. He, in turn, stares back at them; but seemingly stuck in a reverie as the elderly so often descend into to hide from reality. The silence is painful, too much like death.

 

“Quite honestly...” They all wait to hear what he has to say. “...I'd rather be fishing.”

 

He stares blankly at the stunned swarm of people. He turns to exit the stage he has starred on for far too long.

 

“Duke Dermail, what about the corruption charges?”

 

“Duke Dermail, is it true that Treize Kushrenada has volunteered to take over as mayor?”

 

“Duke Dermail, are you afraid of being imprisoned for your crimes?”

 

“Duke Dermail, will you take responsibility for the current state of Metro City?”

 

They throw their feces at him like so many monkeys.

 

-end “Frontpage: Dermail Resigns, Kushrenada to take office?” Part K

-end Page III “In the Concrete Jungle”

Sex, Substances, Sin, Salvation

 

Next: Page IV: “A Crow Left of the Murder”

WhenShootingStarsFall.com

 

Notes: I might have overdone it with the metaphors. But if you've ever been to a big press event, you'd agree that the similarities are scary...

 

Dermail's `last words' were actually spoken by a man called Jimmy Glass

“I'd rather be fishing.” ~~ Last Words of Jimmy Glass. Executed in electric chair, June 12, 1987 Louisiana.