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Takashi Koji
May 9th, 2007, 05:05:37 PM
A week had transpired since the massacre. It was on the television, in the newspapers, and found throughout the internet. The world was in a state of shock. sixty bodies were found within the walls of the New York hospital and in the street outside. No clear evidence could be found, all the bodies were too mangled and any DNA or fingerprints left behind were destroyed by being touched by too many people. Security cameras had been destroyed and their hidden backup storage archives burned. Police were dumbfounded of the whole event and lack of evidence. But what puzzled them the most was the complete and utter lack of witnesses. Evidentally there was no one else on the street save for the attackers and the soon to be deceased. It made no sense, no sense at all. Not a single suspect could be found or tracked down. The result? Sixty dead people and no one to blame. Everyone was in uproar, especially the families of the dead. Someone needed to be blamed, and all that blame was now centered on the government, who's steps of protection and security had failed. The torches were being brought out and the pitchforks sharpened. It would only a matter of time before the government of the state of New York and the United States as a whole would have a serious problem: Open Rebellion.

In the New York slums, a dark and dirty place, a secret meeting was taking place. An old abandoned church had been found, half destroyed and burnt, but the roof was still intact. The place was a mess, but the rows of pews were, for the most part, intact, and filled. Everyone from the attack had come, and even a few more who had been brought by the partakers of violence. It had been simply to gather them. Most of the survivors of the attack, nicknamed the "Saints", had kept in touch with at least one other Saint, and thus the message of a meeting had passed through the Saints and now all where gathered together again.

Takashi Koji accended the podium, a raied dais of fire blackened, splintering wood. All looked up to him, their faces depicting a hunger, a hunger for justice. Koji's deep blue eyes scanned the crowd, identifying new faces and, more importantly, looking for anyone who should not be there. Most of all he was looking for that one asian man, the one who had stood there and told him to run after the massace. He wondered if he would show up, and if he did, why? But he was unimportant. What was imporant is that he had his army of justice gathered, and now their next target could be established. They all waited for him to talk, to hear his words, to be told what to do. The beast had broken free of humanity's chains and found a new master, a new master who preached great words of justice, freedom, and retribution. A hundred pairs of ears listened in. They did not care what was said, aslong as it was said.