Give it a read, if you'd be so kind, and let me know what you think. They'll be more..

Rain falls.
It’s a fact of life. A known process. A simple one. You walk out while it’s raining and your head will get wet first. Providing you stay standing. It’s a one sided coin. Until… you look for the other side.
Rain rises.
It’s a metaphorical fact, but nevertheless, still as true as a pure fact. The water that eventually becomes rain, must by definition of it’s process, rise before it falls. How else can it fall from a height?
How true this process also seems to be of certain people in life. Those who achieve great things. Those who rise up the ranks of recognition, throughout their life, then drop down. Be that due to retirement, fading away, or corruption.
This however is not a story about a rising virtuous figure of public admiration. It does not depict how that person falls from the pedestal they have been thrust upon. This is about the one that nobody thinks about. Nobody sees. This is about the one, who help’s people rise. And then.. Leaves them to their own ways. Some float. Some expand. Some fall. But all of them, may never have risen at all…

The year is 2120...

The gates were closed. Of course they were closed. They’re always closed. Rain was pouring down and small drips, gaining in size, ran off the cold metal bars. Footsteps. Too many to be a 3 man team. Too few to be the entire security force. That left only the elite squads. There was only two squads. Both were bad. Very bad. Vicious and condemning. Angry and seething. Dedicated, even to the smallest fact. The squad that was giving chase, calculated every fact, quicker than most humans. Quicker and more precise. This was bad news for the slave boy who’d ran into the gates. The closed...gates.

‘Damnit.. What do I do..?!’
He thought while starring through water
logged eyes at the metal monstrosity that stood before him.

Pure unforgiving metal. Spiky and slippery. Unchanging and unemotional. It didn’t care how much you wanted to get past it. It didn’t take into consideration your past or how short your future might be. It was a structure. Built to keep you out.

The squad came around the corner, like a flurry of hate penetrating a small, flickering light of hope. Five soldiers. Built and trained through hate and anger. Aggressive destruction personified. They each stood over 6’0. Wearing black combat gear, and an assortment of weapons designed for pain and tracking, they were a formidable sight. It was too much for the slave boy, as tears replaced twilight rain in his wide eyes. His fists clenched together as he watched them stand there, viewing their prey in the moon light monsoon.

The squad stepped forward…The boy closed his eyes…This was it. This was real. The pain and torment of his short time living had reached it’s peak. The world would never know him. His story would never be told. He wouldn’t even be graced with the decaying dignity of becoming a statistic on a form. He would go unnoticed. His memory would not live on. This was his fate. Can it ever be altered? He’d asked himself this question many a time. It seems, it was destined to be unanswered. He clenched his eyes shut and listened to the rain thudding against the cold muddy ground.

Thud…Thud… Thud…Th-thud-thud. His ears noticed the sound. Questions… Why the change in rhythm? Sure rain falls in random drops and you can’t predict what sound it will make, but rhythm is recognisable. Everything develops a pattern, even if that patter is obscure. Or maybe.. That was wrong. The boy risked opening his eyes to discover at least one small answer to this very last question before death. What he saw however… was life.

Not his life. But LIFE. Another person. A figure. The change in sound was thanks to an unknown figure, who’d landed in front of the boy. He had his back to the boy, and his face was hidden. The stranger was crouched, in the position he’d landed in. Where had he come from? What was he doing? The boy noticed the strangers arm held out… almost in defence. As if… this person, had jumped to protect this slave.
The stranger stood up slowly. He was starring at the squad, who watched intently. The new arrivals hair was thick, and medium length. Soaked from the rain, it covered half of the strangers face. He wore a dark green combat suit.

The stranger clenched a fist. The squad looked at each other. A smile crept across their faces. They knew they had the advantage. They ALWAYS had the advantage. So what was to fear? Fear came from not knowing, and this group of soldiers knew they were feared. Basic mathematics. The smiles were justified…

The stranger sprinted towards the group. All but one of the squad kept their cool. The one who didn’t, had made a mistake.. A potentially fatal one. He was the first target..

Part 2 coming soon..