DRAMA NOVEL ONLINE Chapter Chapter One
“I want this son of a bitch captured!” said Antigone Gibbons, police detective of Chicago. His yellowish face was contorted, hatred making him more ugly than he really was. The chief of police of Chicago, and various leaders of the FBI were all there, listening to him rage. The various members of the media, both national and of Chicago were there as well.
The news of Wulf Gott escaping justice in the city of Chicago was big national news- no one did not know of it. How he had been in court, a court that that had already basically convicted him for murder; and, worse than that in their liberal, politically correct minds: convicted him of multiple hate crimes. This last meant merely that he had been convicted of attacking and killing black people, which had somehow become worse than any other crime possible.
But the “young barbarian”, as he termed himself, (and was now also called in the media as a pejorative), had escaped right out of the court, under the very noses of the police, and no one really knew precisely just how he had done it. Electric lights, in fact the very sun itself had been blotted out during his escape, facilitating it really, because otherwise he could have never gotten away.
It was months later, and there had been no headway in the young suspects recovery. His grandmother, Nora Gott, had been on tv multiple times, railing against her relation’s crimes against minorities, and how she wanted him brought to justice. She often appeared alongside Antigone Gibbons, who had taken on this case as his own personal vendetta, and nodded in agreement to his rabid ravings about “justice” and “vengeance”. The popular media all agreed with them, but there was a divergence of opinion that seemed to be growing, supporting the “young barbarian” as doing vigilante, law-and-order work that the police and city bureaucrats had long abandoned.
Wes Parker was often interviewed on more conservative, “alternative” types of media. Wes had befriended the young Wulf when the youth had first been ordered to Chicago, to finish his schooling with his grandmother whom he had never even met, since he was not yet 18 and of his majority, and so the law had ordered him after the death of his mother to move to the big city under her care. He left his beloved northern wilderness only because of his belief in obeying the law: after a time in the all black, decadent and savage Hyde Park high school, however, he realized that the law of the land had been perverted.
Wes, a private police force member of the mercenaries protecting the University of Chicago, reiterated his opinion on Wulf escaping, over and over, and how he was justified completely. He had been fired from the U of C after he started stating his opinions, which were “embarrassing” for the university. There were those that were convinced, but the mainstream, liberal view was overwhelmingly of the youth as a horrible fugitive from justice, who must be recaptured, brought to trial, and executed.
“I know he is somewhere up there,” said the yellowish detective Gibbons, pointing to a map of the far north United States on his powerpoint presentation. “That is where this bitter clinger is from, and I want to get the cracker!” Spittle flew from his lips, so impassioned was the detective.
There were representatives from the federal government, the Chicago police department, and even the FBI all present. All nodding agreement, they moved together to plan their strategy. They had no explanation for the total “blackout” that had facilitated the youth’s escape, but they were confident that with extreme military superiority they could easily extract the “young barbarian” Wulf Gott from his northern wilderness and reservation stronghold.
The last thing that Antigone Gibbons, Chicago detective said that day: “The best thing is- he has no idea that we are coming, his reservation may be independent, technically, from the U.S. government; but we are going in to extract this son-of-a-bitch- and he has no idea!!” Laughing like a fiend from hell, Gibbons shook with passion, the passion not of arresting a wrongdoer, no- the passion of hurting someone who has crossed you, and made you look like a fool.