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Rated: E · Novel · Dark · #2104170
The rise and the fall of an egoistic dictator

Chapter 1
The man stood hunched on the wall. He looked at the orchards surrounding the Robje- the parliament of the country of
Ascela. Today, he had been sent on a mission that he had never done before- to steal some important papers from the Prime Minister. Not exactly FROM the Prime Minister but from his room.
A whistle escaped Graham's mouth. The Robje was beautiful. Then, his expression changed to a look of scorn. The Robje was built with his own money, wasn't it?
Hmmph! Democracy! What the hell. Democracy probably meant using the bourgeoisie's money and not the politician's money. That was the exact definition if anyone was to regard the current meaning.
That was why he had joined the Anti- Corruption Mafia. It was basically a secret wing of the ALP (Ascelan Libertarian Party)- led National Uprising Movement.
He found the ALP's vice-chief Duke Blaten charismatic. It was not like how the poverty-stricken people found godmen and godwomen appealing. Graham felt like as if Duke was the only person who could save the whole of Ascela from corruption.
Graham was just one of more than eight million people who found Duke a sort of a saviour.
Graham landed on the grass softly. A small shrub had him covered. He threw a rope at a window where the Anti- Corruption Mafia leader had told him to a few hours back. He had been shown a blueprint of the Robje.
The leader had shown him that the PM's room was on the western side of th e Robje .
He used the rope and nimbly got onto the window sill. Another tree had him covered from the guards' sight. He quickly used a gas cutter and made a hole in the window. It was dinnertime and the people were eating ; he could get into the room easily.
He used the gas cutter again and opened the bureau.
He nearly screamed. There were just clothes! No papers like how the leader had told him.
Suddenly he heard footsteps outside the room; probably in the corridor.
He used the rope and slid out through the window.
Shots rang out. The guards had spotted him! He climbed over the wall and managed to leap to the other side before he got shot.
The guards were in hot pursuit of Graham. They got into jeeps and chased Graham. Graham had got a motorcycle with him, parked outside the Robje and drove off.
Pushing through alleys and narrow streets, he managed to shake the guards off his back.
He arrived at the street where the Anti- Corruption Mafia leader, Møn, had told him to come after stealing the papers.
Graham hung his head before Møn.
“Sir, I couldn't….”
“Flinton had changed his plans. I see.”, said Møn.
Flint was the name of the Prime Minister.
“What plans sir?”, asked Graham curiously.
“Something that you need not know.”, said Møn.“And if you ask any such inquisitive questions, I will have your head cut off! I pardon you now as you have tried something really dangerous.”
Møn put a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He took a wisp of smoke and walked away.
Graham felt happy for being let off fast. But it was strange of Møn to do so. Nevertheless, he got on his motorcycle and drove home. Maybe that was best.

Duke had a tragic life. His mother had died when he was 10. His father when Duke was 18. Though his father was greatly supportive of Duke and his brother Drake, his father was a heavy drinker. Duke's dad was talented but the alcoholism made him a rough diamond. When he died of multiple organ failure, it was expected but it was a great shock to Duke who had to quit college to earn money for his brother's studies.
Drake had told Duke that the former himself would quit college for the latter but the stubborn Duke did not agree.
* * *
Drake looked at Duke.
“Now that you are the vice-chief of the ALP, power is nearly unlimited,” said Drake , sitting on the settee.
Duke smiled.
“But no! I'm still not the leader of the opposition!”, said Duke solemnly.
Drake nodded. “Power hungry , eh?”
Duke grinned. He adjusted his spectacles.
Drake passed Duke's lucky bracelet to Duke.
“No, brother. The media…”, said Duke, widening his eyes.
“I forgot.” smiled Drake and took back the bracelet.
“Farewell for now, Drake. Meet you after the speech.”, said Duke closing the door behind him.
He walked through the hotel's corridor. He was to speak at the massive ground outside the hotel.
As he walked, delusioned images flew by his mind— class topper to college quitter. An inexperienced party worker to the vice— chief of the ALP, now flanked by bodyguards and of course the chief, or, it was like HE flanked the chief. Anyhow, that was a very high honour.
* * *
“....for we have such a stupid government! They launch governmental regimes against their own people. What happened in Draycott? What happened in Inverness? My friends, we shall rise up in one voice against this cruel government. Victory to Ascela!”
* * *
Duke sat at the back of the car with Krylon Morpin. In the front of the car near the driver sat the party secretary, Binder Shurtid.
Duke grinned. This presidential elections was a going to be a thriller.

© Copyright 2016 Abhinav Anoop (darkfang at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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