Victory Speech (January 2024)
This is it.
Each step towards the podium is monumental, each time my foot comes down I feel history being made. The crowd roars. I smile brilliantly and spread my arms towards my adoring subjects.
They love me.
My coup was a success. I had the military's support, but more importantly, the people’s. Now all that remained was my victory speech. The first of many.
“My people!” I yell into the microphone, the crowd quiets as I grip the podium, “we have won!”
The cheer is deafening. My smile stretches from ear to ear, the perfect image of charisma. I scan the mass of people, drawing off their incredible enthusiasm.
And then I see him.
Dressed in a black suit, mourner’s clothes. A porcelain mask with a perfect, gentle smile.
My next words escape me. What am I suppose to say? The hours spent memorizing my speech, gone in an instant. I strain to keep my smile wide. I struggle to keep the humor and charm in my eyes. I grip the podium until my knuckles turn white.
The mask, the empty holes for eyes, are looking right at me. Right through me. Where are my security guards? Do they not see the threat in the crowd?
The crowd begins to quiet down. They murmur expectantly. I’ve been silent for too long. That gentle smile. It’s a promise. My mouth is frozen in a false grin. It refuses to open. I want to shout, I want to scream for someone to tear that mask off and execute the man beneath it.
The crowd is silent now.
They’re waiting for you.
This is your moment.
This is your victory.
You must speak.
Speak.
SPEAK!
I say nothing as an aide rushes in from offstage and pulls me away.