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Gideon
A large stream of humans made way for their conquering hero. The street began to display its dark surface once again, a paved red carpet for the man of the hour as his admiring supporters chanted on the outside. Edward Richter waved to the crowd around him, absorbing the cheers with class and charisma. These were his people.
Gideon sat witnessing this from afar, sniper rifle at the ready. He put his eye to the scope of his weapon and watched the American Vice President make his way through the massive faithful. The center of it found itself planted onto Edward Richter's temple. All that would transpire afterwards were acts of God. It was His Word that had sent Gideon to this place and summoned him to commit this act that would be sin in any form but this one and under any circumstances but these.
He sat back and drank from his cup of water. It was about one hundred meters from where the Vice President was standing and the podium from which he would address the public. Gideon did not bother to adjust his rifle along with the politician's movements. At this moment it was unnecessary; now was not the time to release upon the world the hailstorm that would alter history's course.
With not a pint of jealousy Gideon's eyes over the adoring crowd there to greet and listen to one of their leaders. His path may not have been as glamorous among the Earth-dwellers but it was the only true path of righteousness. The only true path of God. He was confident that he had chosen the right path. It had taken no choice or strength on his part; the Word of the good Lord was all that was required. This transformation had occurred long ago.
In his hand laid the power to launch destruction. He focused his mind on that aspect of his journey. The eventual road towards perfection was littered with violence and deceit. Simply by thinking these thoughts he was contributing to this sad affair. No matter- Gideon was destined for salvation with the higher power.
He set down the rifle for a moment and stared out into the great mass of human beings. All of their faces looked oddly similar, they were all part of the same family... they were all descendants of the beginning. His eyes gazed upon Abraham's children. Their number had long surpassed that of the stars in the sky. The Lord had taken his promise even further. Through the father their blood ran. His as well, for he was one of them. Gideon was a human being, just as the rest.
The words destined to swim out of the Vice President's mouth were ones condemning the acts of homosexuals throughout the land he partly laid claim to. These words in raw form were those that He wanted, yet the true meaning behind them was corrupted. These words meant nothing when gazed upon from the proper perspective. These words must be destroyed before they infected alternate regions of mankind. God had given Gideon the power to do so. The power to bring down an army of a thousand souls.
Edward Richter was now just steps away from his destination as perceived by all but a few human beings on this planet. His ultimate destination was not quite known... nor was his ultimate purpose. The sniper rifle was once again trained on his head. His country's scope of things was about to change.
No.... it must wait a little longer, Gideon realized, exasperated. He once again sought the bottle containing water. Putting it to his lips, he immediately felt the onslaught of God's strength. If only he could fit his hands inside, so as to cup the water as his men once had... but this was not the time and that specific order had not been given. There was one purpose that needed to be fulfilled.
He brandished the rifle, taking it off of the Vice President again. It was very bulky, of strange physical shape for the ultimate stealth weapon. But physical appearance meant nothing in His eyes, and so it would mean nothing in that of his servant's. A weapon of death had just as much spirituality as he who wielded it.
Still, who was he to be making judgements? The matters of God were not to be understood, nor could they, even by any of his closest disciples. Gideon could not possibly comprehend them. The only realm of possibility for the Lord's servants was to do as He ordered and let the nature of humanity take care of the rest. This was what Gideon attempted, in all of his failures, to achieve. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak, and so it was with Gideon.
He returned the center of the scope to the head of the target. Simply by a reflex of the fingers, something as basic and fundamental as pulling a small trigger, everything inside of his frame and everything that frame was destined to do would be, in an instant, disintegrated. The speech had begun. Richter's words denounced the spirits of those humans who had participated in the recent burnings of halls devoted to His name in the regions known as Virginia, Indiana, and Texas. Richter's words denounced the entire group those humans belonged to as a whole. Richter's words were sinful.
Gideon's finger tightened. Tension was beginning to set in around his shoulders and arms; they began to grow weak. The effort to completely pull that trigger was too much. It would take time; but in His kingdom time was no issue. Time was infinite.
More applause echoed from the area where the crowd had now congregated. The man's words were well received. The index finger clenched even further. Gideon began to sweat. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. For the first time doubts began to rise in his head. Was he really capable of this? Was he the one God was looking for?
Satan, flee! His temptations were growing within Gideon. They were becoming harder to resist. Satan, depart before He strikes you down! Go back to where you came from!
Could he really do this? Could he pull the trigger and destroy something so precious as life? No, he was not to destroy this soul- the bullet, the force that flew rapidly and violently from the tip of the rifle, would do the job. Gideon was simply the mastermind behind the operation. It was his mission to give the orders, not do the work. All that was required was a demand. A demand to be enacted by a simple movement of the fingers.
The hands holding the weapon began to shake. His mind was on fire, the weight of his shoulders overpowering him. The scope lost its target. Frantically he adjusted it back into place. His breathing became heavy. Gideon realized that it was now or never. God did have a second chance in store, but it was not quite as virtuous as the first. He needed to take advantage of this first chance. He needed to do it now. Finally, he brought it upon himself to pull his fingers in. They slowly pushed the trigger farther, farther, farther down the shaft. The arrival of the click was due momentarily. As they went farther, so did Gideon's salvation come closer. So did the radical altering of the world's landscape. Moments later, his fingers reached their destination, as did his spirit. The spirit was willing and the flesh was no longer weak. A great sigh of relief reverberated from his entire body. Cleansing water was showered upon his head. The man in question lay spread-eagled across the very balcony his words had resonated from, undisputably heading to another place far more extreme than the world he had left. Gideon did not make it his duty to discover which extreme that world lied on, but he instantly felt the echoes of the place he was to achieve. The weapon that had carried out his orders fell out of his hands. He turned away from the sight of his operation set in motion. His job was finished. He was finally set free.
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"I cannot fiddle, but I can make a great state of a small city." -Themistocles
"Conrad transcended all the rules. There have been, perhaps, greater novelists, but I believe that he was incomparably the greatest artist who ever wrote a novel." -H.L. Mencken
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