Bleeding North Heirs And Defenders [Original] |Dedicated To Choicefics|

| Ignoring The Mist| Chapter 7

Eliminating The Future, they say. But their lies fold. They hate us, you know?

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Time: 11:30am, Westminster, London Underground, Tube station

"Insanity destroys reason, but not wit. Their eyes wide and hungry, inhabitants of Britain's overseen mist, They wish to ignore it, unsoundness of mind...their loss of reason. Blood stains the walls, graffiti smeared same the organs of people. Posters ripped, the schedule stained so no times were present.. Corpses left and right. Many bodies on the train tracks, many had committed suicide to run away from the pain on these tracks. The population on a decreasing rapid speed. They cry and cry while people beat surrender or give up trying. Insanity in individuals is something rare - but in groups, parties, nations, and epochs it is the rule. When we remember that we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. They became stronger, faster, more durable from their excitement and crazy minds. The government gave nothing but a hate on themselves as they hid in parliament and nothing could stop them. not even the prime minster. Gabriel Channing as he started this mess. Even to the population's support.". "Oh bloody hell!" A voice echoed, a former politician, of the labour republic . Not Alexander, he was doing something at his own wit...no, his voice hissed , down a blood-filled tube station, in the London Underground, the voice was a male, he snarled at the other "Fitty bloody quid for a fuckin gun?! I told ya misses you're a fucking prat! How the fuck cock-up a gun on that?! SOME OF US WANT A RISE UP AGAINST OUR CURRENT MINISTER! WHY THE FUCK WOULD NOT WANT A MOTHERFUCKING GUN?!" The other tilted his head and trembled in fear, the blackish haired, a down at heel male smirked, he was a drunk, face bloody, his eyes brown had long faded, to the same colour as his hair, he was dying per say. The other male scoffed, "Fine! But I don't want warn to you lad. You make quite the kerfuffle, especially for a git who worked for Gabriel Channing. You can ignore the mist, ay?". The male gave up his gun, before getting shot, killed him with a single shot in the mouth, he was killed instantly, blood drained from his exposed jaw, the mist echoed, like the cries of people around, the mist around him, he lost the plot completely. Insanity stuck into his mind, his wife in fear, not knowing why did that. Ethan at first fortune smiled on him . "That was for my brother.". His brother...Samuel. He was blind, due to his blindness being critical, the poor chap died, he was the only family left, he was like a boy who cried wolf and usually listened to TSC, also known as The Style Council regularly through memory of where put his records. He wasn't with anyone when he died, he died alone. Mary, the male's wife, was a worried, saddened creature, her pale blue and locks of blonde hair blowing in the wind of the train going by, she was carrying something, a baby wrapped in cotton, the baby, a small delicate thing. The male snapped upwards from the corpse as the child cried, howled almost. "ARE YOU GOING TO FUCKING SHUT UP?!". The male snapped, Mary held the child close, looking at her husband, tears stained her bloody face...."WHAT THE FUCK?! IS WRONG WITH -". Is all she says before being shot too, the baby dropped while he caught it, "My little boy....my tiny little boy, he put him in his messenger bag, getting himself on tracks of tube station, and walking down the tunnel of light, now running, directly to the edge of the train, grabbing the edge and holding on for his dear life, taking the mad risk of his own life, his face covered by the mist, he smiled, the blood staining. He got in the train and sat, Before getting stared at by all suspects of their domestic and cannibalistic ways, it smelt of booze and drugs, blood stained the windows of the insane. So uncivilised, especially for the British public, and the government itself.

There is in every madman a misunderstood genius whose idea, shining in his head, frightened people, and for whom delirium was the only solution to the strangulation that life had prepared for him.