Broken Ascension

The True Path of Patriots

Bishop stared at the message on his phone with incredulity. It was a message from the Pope. It just said ‘Good Luck’. Yeah that was going to help. Knights Templar rode to battle with blessings and prayers from their Pope. All he had was ‘Good Luck’. He got off the MTV at the Parliament stop. He wasn’t the only one. Some of them he recognized as MPs. It would have been a matter of great interest long ago if an MP had decided to take the bus. Some things had changed for the better. He took in the view of the Houses. There was that shimmering glow, the Slow Tech at work. It was less perceptible than when he had encountered the portable version Azazel had used. Perhaps he should have mentioned it to the Pope or one of the Cardinals. Maybe later. When all this is done. There were small archways situated along the length of the Houses, guarded. This was the way in past the Slow Tech membrane. You wouldn’t want people to be travelling slowly through the membrane every time they needed entry or exit. These archways created some kind of field which effectively made holes in the membrane without collapsing the whole. You still needed time to get through, it was like walking through jelly but it was much faster than going straight into Slow Tech membrane. He looked around, everything seemed perfectly normal. And yet this day would go down in history. For better or for worse. He’d checked with the Godsmen intelligence and there were not any indications that an attack might take place either. Ever since the membrane had gone up, there had been almost no incidences. There were easier targets. He walked to the first archway, the biggest one and the one nearest the main doors. There was a red stripe on the top of the archway which differentiated it from the others. This was Gateway Alpha called so not because it was the first, but because only those with Alpha Level Clearance could use it. He would need to assess it because it was the only one where they didn’t scan you for weapons. And his gun was in his coat. He wasn’t quite ready to go in yet, there was still time before session. And the breeze was lovely today. It reminded him of Callista’s lips brushing his skin and he could still smell the perfume of her. He had thought of visiting her this morning but it would have been so hard to leave. This was not time for lovemaking. This was time for duty, whatever that entailed. There were no immediate threats in the vicinity. They weren’t signs of any other Godsmen or Antagonists as far as he knew. Then again how would he know? There were a lot of Godsmen he had never met and he knew only a few Antagonists. They wouldn’t be walking around waving flags or wearing placards would they? They would be dressed normally like himself. In a proper suit and a professional looking overcoat. Not his standard uniform. But all the better to blend in. Well, time to face the music.

He moved towards Gateway Alpha nonchalantly, letting some others pass him. They nodded to him, thinking him someone important as he was using Alpha. Yes he was very important. He was going to be the Assassin of the King. How many monarchs had actually been assassinated? Not many in the long history of the Isles. And none since medieval times, wasn’t it. Well, this would be the first in enlightened times. A bloody mark for a bloodless century. Wasn’t exactly true, the bloodless century. People had coined it because Britain had fought no wars and carried out no military operations. But there was blood, much of it, contributed by Bishop and his colleagues.

He stepped up to the gateway. The guard there indicated the retinal scanner protruding slightly on the right side of the arch. Bishop leaned a little towards it as it read him. On the left side was an indicator which turned green.

“Please proceed sir.” The guard nodded. Bishop gave him a return nod and stepped through the archway. He felt suddenly weightless, his body supported by some viscous matter. He moved his legs rapidly and he felt his body slide through. He came out of it as if the archway had spit him out. He expected a pop sound. There was none.

“This way sir.” The guard at this side pointed at the entrance.

“Thank you.” He straightened his coat and walked to the entrance like he belonged there. Before he could get there someone stopped him. It was a smartly dressed man, well built like himself. And moving with a fighter’s grace.

“Pleasant day. Do you think there will be fireworks?” He smiled, opening his coat slightly. Bishop could see a crest on the breast of his shirt. A stylized letter ‘A’ with a cross incorporated into it. Antagonists.

“There might be one cracker. That’d be all.” He answered, wondering if there was going to be a fight. He was ready.

“A mutual friend of ours has a message. Before lighting the fuse, is it what you want or what others want for you.” He said then started to walk away.

“You’re not going to stop me?”

“She thinks you will make the right choice. Not all of us are convinced but I trust her judgment. I hope she’s right.” He turned but Bishop caught his arm.

“What will you do in my place?”

“I am not in your place.” He walked away, leaving Bishop to curse the heavens. There was nothing else then. It was his choice, that was Azazel’s play. They were not going to stop him, they were going to let him choose. He would rather have them descend on him in droves. He would have to make a choice. Not the Pope, not the Devil. Him. He’d always been solitary. But he had never felt so alone in his life.

They were congregating in the Commons public area. It was a new addition. There were two staircases against the sides of the walls that led to a platform at the end of the area. Behind the platform were the doors that opened into the main chamber. They did not have a similar area in the Lords. The House of Lords was now much reduced, hereditary titles were rare. Their main purpose was to advise and they had no longer any powers to restrict bills. As such, there were no longer any formal sittings for the Lords. The power now lay fully with the Commons. Even the ceremonies of Parliament had changed much. Now the monarch could enter freely and be part of the session since he was an elected official. He was standing on the platform looking out towards the public area. The sitting MPs were all lined up on either staircase with the Speaker at the top of the left one so he would be at the King’s right. The King would give his address to the press from that pulpit. That was the purpose of the public area. If there were announcements to be made by Commons, the Speaker would use the same pulpit to make his address. As of now, most of the people in the public area were press members. They were easily identified with their bright ‘P’ badges. Bishop noted the lack of security. Was it something that the Godsmen had engineered ensuring that he would succeed in his task? Or the Antagonists so that they would have unfettered access to any action they chose to take? The Antagonist outside had said they would leave things be but was that really the truth? It didn’t matter now, the ends justified the means. Or did it? Was putting a bullet in your King justifiable in any way? Lord, there had been scores of bad monarchs. But in this day and age to commit regicide? He surveyed the area. Azazel was there standing in a corner, looking at him without expression. He turned away, what was she doing if not here to stop him? If she thought he would make the right decision why did she or any Antagonist needed to be here? They were all playing a game and it was beginning to sicken him. A woman walked passed him and a whiff of her perfume came to him. A vision of Callista opened in his mind and it was such sweetness. It calmed him, the memory of sweetness and desire and heat.

He looked up at the King. His Majesty was getting his notes ready. That position made a good target, high up with no body in the way. He imagined himself pulling out his gun and shooting. It would take no more than a few seconds. And it’ll be over. The security would apprehend him. Would the Godsmen contrive to free him? Or leave him to rot in prison? Jut one movement. Just a small moment of time. He almost did it then but the memory of Callista was still fresh and that weakened his resolve. Closing his eyes he tried banishing her from his mind.

He looked up again to appraise his monarch and his victim. Why had he been chosen? Because he was perfect wasn’t he. The looks, the suaveness. The background, the family. The perfect candidate. Born and bred to rule. And he would push this true, attain this Divine Right through his perfection. That was it then, all so perfect. Kill him and he would become a martyr. And someone else as perfect would step up and on the strength of this martyrdom, surely there was more support for the bill? Surely. No, this was a miscalculation then by the Godsmen. There would be other Jacobite candidates. And if not, they could make the next monarch theirs anyhow. Why had the Pope chosen this path then? Did he not consider this possible sequence of events? No, the Pope had lost confidence then. Confidence that the Godsmen could do it any other way. This was a revelation. How could he not have seen this? He almost sank to his knees, at this powerful new understanding. They were right, the Godsmen were spent. This was against all they believed. Chaos would be the result. He looked over at Azazel. Her expression had changed. There was a smile forming on her lips. He hated that she was probably feeling vindicated. He could tell that she knew now what choice he would make. But she was right. This path set for him by the Pope he could no longer take.

He looked back up again at the image of perfection. A bullet would immortalize that perfection as it had all those years ago with Kennedy the American. Perfection, what could he do against the perfection? They would enter the chamber and come out with the Bill. Come out led by their perfect King in a perfect situation. What could he do? Callista came to his mind again unbidden. What they had was not perfect but beautiful. You wouldn’t want to enshrine something so real. Perfection was vulnerable to the smallest blemishes. He would want,…….Blemishes. That was the answer.

He had one choice now, ruin the perfection. Mar it irretrievably. Leave a mark that would be difficult to erase. With this new idea, he relaxed, knowing what he was to do now. There were no regrets. He had walked such a long road and to end it in a meaningful way was all that he could ask. Only, Callista – he would have liked at least another moment with her. But he comforted himself thinking that he was doing this for her. For beautiful, simple, common people like her. He looked again at Azazel and smiled. She smiled back – perhaps she had anticipated what he would do. Had she manipulated him into it perhaps? Knew that this was the solution? Perhaps. But it didn’t matter because it was the right thing to do. He straightened himself and spoke out loud.

“Your Majesty, esteemed Members of Parliament, ladies and gentleman.” His voice rang out clearly and powerfully over the whole public area. The King looked up and straight at him, a puzzlement in his face. He was not the best at oratory but he had conviction and that would sail his words. He needed a Churchill moment. Even so, mere words could never be enough guarantee. He needed to do something that would etch itself in people’s minds.

“Today, a bill comes before Parliament to be passed. It is a bill that few people are aware of and it contains much that is obscure. But there is one fundamental purpose to it. To give ultimate powers to the King in the event that it is required for the survival of the kingdom. This is what I understand. There may be no objections because ultimate power in the hand of the King would only be realized on an unlikely scenario. But the fact remains that this bill offers such widespread powers to our monarch at the expense of destroying the power of Parliament.

If the bill is passed today you will begin to subvert the rule of the common, a measure that will slowly but surely erode the foundation of our democracy.” There was now murmuring through the crowd. He noted that many of the Members of Parliament were not surprised, merely looking down. It was true then, many were compromised. There were a few with shocked faces, some with accusing stares at the King. These were those few who were either unapproached or had declined to join the madness. And they were so few of them. The corruption was indeed great. Still no security agent stepped forward.

“The situation may never come to pass when the King may receive ultimate powers. But the principle of it will nibble at the core of all that we believe in. We cannot support this. We cannot support this.” He paused. His next words would not be received so calmly.

“I was told that to beat this madness I should embrace madness as well and assassinate the King.” There was now uproar among the crowd. His majesty the King however did not seem shaken. Under control.

“I will not do that! I will not raise my hand against the King!” He held up empty hands. But people were backing away from him. And he could see uniforms moving. He saw the Antagonist prepare to move as well; to help him or stop him he could not tell.

“Your majesty! By taking you out, I am in a way supporting this path, that to take away choice. And to step on the very principles I am suppose to maintain. I implore you as my King to veer from this path. Our nation has been great because of the link of Parliament and Monarchy. Let us continue as such. Let not one limb try and undermine the other. You were chosen because Parliament knew that the Monarchy need to remain. Why do you attempt then to usher in a principle that puts them at such risk?” The King’s eyes narrowed. Whatever it was that Bishop had achieved, one thing was sure, he had managed to agitate the King. A little bit more push.

“You, my Majesty who was but chosen through a democratic process. You surely cannot believe that the future of our nation could rest in the hand of one person?”

“The bill would ensure that when our nation is threatened to its very core, all will not slide into chaos. If you cannot trust your King to this, who do you trust?” The King roared from his pulpit, his face triumphant. Perhaps he expected the people to roar their approval and cry out in fervor. But the was a silence and he looked around furtively, perhaps realizing he may have played a wrong move. Bishop thought that his hubris had gotten hold of him. No matter how he saw it, the truth was that few still saw him as a real King. Perhaps if he had proven himself before attempting this farce. Now to finally crack that perfect exterior. It needed the most dramatic of moments.

“Perhaps your majesty. Perhaps you have the vision that I do not have for this nation. Perhaps you have the foresight to see something in the future I do not see. But I cannot support you in this. I am nobody important and my life may mean nothing in the end. But I see no solution except that my small sacrifice may represent what the common may do. What we live and die for. But a snowflake that may start an avalanche. Or may not. I do not know. Perhaps I can move you, perhaps other people will be moved by me that can move you. But my choice is to do nothing or to do this. To show what it really means to us all. I regret but I have but one life to give this nation.”

Bishop pulled out his gun smoothly and put it to his temple. He managed to see Azazel’s shocked face and the security agents running now. Well, she didn’t know after all he managed to think as well. Callista, he began to see her in his mind, but the bullet entered his brain and there was nothing but the void.