We thank you for the lion; we thank you for the claws.
At twelve noon in Gilboa, history will rest on the whim of eight tiny bullets.
But the day starts with nightsticks. In the chill before dawn they strike, the Gilboan Royal Guard coming down on the civilian population of Port Prosperity like a storm of locusts. They were warned; their city will be given to Gath, a sacrifice they never offered to a king who no longer deserves their devotion. Two lines of troops stream down an apartment complex hallway and turn homes into battle zones. In the name of peace, its residents are pulled from their beds and midnight bathroom trips, beaten and dragged by their shirt collars out into the dark. For their own good they are loaded into vans, flailing and bleeding, while those in the next building over, the ones waking to cries and shattering glass, scramble to prepare. Some gather what they can and run for their cars, but some--one, two vastly outnumbered--hold their ground, raising their fists against men whose job was once to protect them. Their battered bodies mar the morning news.
In Silas's secret prison at Gehenna, David Shepherd awaits execution. He prays.
Words are the weapon of choice at eleven forty, when the prince arrives at Port Prosperity's handover ceremony, Lucinda at his side. Jack stands before his father, jaw set.
"I come to beg forgiveness."
"Forgiveness is a form of love, and I do not love you."
"Silas," Rose chastises, moving to her son's side.
"-Yes, you do," Jack says in a whisper, words meant for his father alone.
"Kneel." When Jack doesn't move, his eyes harden. The kings stares down his young progeny. "Kneel."
For no one else would he do this, and even for this man it is a struggle. Silas is not worthy of the crown he bares. Jack has not forgotten. He drops to his knees with impeccable care, every motion tightly controlled for fear of what the slightest slip would unleash.
"Now kiss the ground I walk on."
"Silas!" his mother bites but dares not step forward.
The king ignores her. His mocking gaze meets Jack's. "Your mouth's been in dirtier places."
Jack can feel every set of eyes in the room drop with shame, skittering nervously across the floor as if looking somewhere--anywhere--else will make them not be here, listening to a man emasculate his own son in front of his wife-to-be and his family. It takes every ounce of strength Jack possesses to buckle his pride, bend before the king, and press his lips to the floor.
"That's the second time your mother's given you life," Silas hisses in his son's ear as he rises. "It'll be the last."
Jack recoils from his mother's touch when she reaches for him. He pulls himself into Silas's vacated chair, shaking with barely withheld fury, and some part of him despairs that this will be the last thing they feel for one another.
The trumpets sound. They file out onto the stage. The ceremony begins.
David is led out before the firing squad. He offers his last words to God alone.
The first bullet enters Jack's left shoulder, passing cleanly through muscle and tendons without shattering a single bone--exactly how William told him it would, but when it happens it feels like being backhanded by God. The pain is raw and sudden and nothing like what he remembers (wartime wounds years ago when he had adrenaline and his men to pull him through), and for an instant he wishes he could stand his ground in spite of it. Let the assassin's next shots strike him instead. But he doesn't; he lets gravity take him. His mother cries out.
Bullet two passes through the king's chest. Blood sprays across the adornments of peace at his back. The third lodges in his abdomen, and as he falls the gunmen turns his weapon on the crowd, spilling innocent blood beside the king's. Rose is at her husband's side when he hits the ground, her dress soaked with red by the time they pull her away, rushing the king onto a makeshift stretcher and out. Jack watches Silas in a haze of shock. He sees a monster, a tyrant, a murderer, a fool, a king, and a man. His father.
Five final shots ring out in Gehenna. Five would-be executioners fall. Jack's men move in to free David Shepherd and bring him before the new king.
[dialogue © canon]
But the day starts with nightsticks. In the chill before dawn they strike, the Gilboan Royal Guard coming down on the civilian population of Port Prosperity like a storm of locusts. They were warned; their city will be given to Gath, a sacrifice they never offered to a king who no longer deserves their devotion. Two lines of troops stream down an apartment complex hallway and turn homes into battle zones. In the name of peace, its residents are pulled from their beds and midnight bathroom trips, beaten and dragged by their shirt collars out into the dark. For their own good they are loaded into vans, flailing and bleeding, while those in the next building over, the ones waking to cries and shattering glass, scramble to prepare. Some gather what they can and run for their cars, but some--one, two vastly outnumbered--hold their ground, raising their fists against men whose job was once to protect them. Their battered bodies mar the morning news.
In Silas's secret prison at Gehenna, David Shepherd awaits execution. He prays.
Words are the weapon of choice at eleven forty, when the prince arrives at Port Prosperity's handover ceremony, Lucinda at his side. Jack stands before his father, jaw set.
"I come to beg forgiveness."
"Forgiveness is a form of love, and I do not love you."
"Silas," Rose chastises, moving to her son's side.
"-Yes, you do," Jack says in a whisper, words meant for his father alone.
"Kneel." When Jack doesn't move, his eyes harden. The kings stares down his young progeny. "Kneel."
For no one else would he do this, and even for this man it is a struggle. Silas is not worthy of the crown he bares. Jack has not forgotten. He drops to his knees with impeccable care, every motion tightly controlled for fear of what the slightest slip would unleash.
"Now kiss the ground I walk on."
"Silas!" his mother bites but dares not step forward.
The king ignores her. His mocking gaze meets Jack's. "Your mouth's been in dirtier places."
Jack can feel every set of eyes in the room drop with shame, skittering nervously across the floor as if looking somewhere--anywhere--else will make them not be here, listening to a man emasculate his own son in front of his wife-to-be and his family. It takes every ounce of strength Jack possesses to buckle his pride, bend before the king, and press his lips to the floor.
"That's the second time your mother's given you life," Silas hisses in his son's ear as he rises. "It'll be the last."
Jack recoils from his mother's touch when she reaches for him. He pulls himself into Silas's vacated chair, shaking with barely withheld fury, and some part of him despairs that this will be the last thing they feel for one another.
The trumpets sound. They file out onto the stage. The ceremony begins.
David is led out before the firing squad. He offers his last words to God alone.
The first bullet enters Jack's left shoulder, passing cleanly through muscle and tendons without shattering a single bone--exactly how William told him it would, but when it happens it feels like being backhanded by God. The pain is raw and sudden and nothing like what he remembers (wartime wounds years ago when he had adrenaline and his men to pull him through), and for an instant he wishes he could stand his ground in spite of it. Let the assassin's next shots strike him instead. But he doesn't; he lets gravity take him. His mother cries out.
Bullet two passes through the king's chest. Blood sprays across the adornments of peace at his back. The third lodges in his abdomen, and as he falls the gunmen turns his weapon on the crowd, spilling innocent blood beside the king's. Rose is at her husband's side when he hits the ground, her dress soaked with red by the time they pull her away, rushing the king onto a makeshift stretcher and out. Jack watches Silas in a haze of shock. He sees a monster, a tyrant, a murderer, a fool, a king, and a man. His father.
Five final shots ring out in Gehenna. Five would-be executioners fall. Jack's men move in to free David Shepherd and bring him before the new king.
[dialogue © canon]