THE DEEP, SICKENING RUMBLE OF SOMETHING VASTLY INHUMAN shook the ground above him forcing small chunks of earth to scatter all around his underground lair as the chatter of constant gunfire sounded in the distance.
‘Funny,’ said Jonathan Walker. ‘The first time I walked into this den I was terrified of it collapsing. Now, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.’
‘You’d take a coward’s death over that of a hero?’ asked his comrade.
‘Hero?’ scoffed Jonathan. ‘That is a word that lost its value generations ago. Greek mythology was rife with them, but you name one genuine hero from our lifetime.’
He waited as his compatriot shaped to reply, which he did on a couple of occasions – yet he remained silent.
‘My point, exactly. When it comes to telling stories we can create heroes as engaging as the day is long – but in reality, what makes a man good is all but forgotten.’
A blast echoed up about them. It was close; too close for comfort, causing more of their hideaway to crumble.
‘Ruled by fear we created symbols to give us power. Our understanding of technology and mechanics may have grown, but don’t confuse this for intelligence. Intelligence would have seen us try and live harmoniously; to abandon our need to seek control. If we had done that then we would be with our loved ones right now. You with your wife and children, and me…’