Paradigm and Other Short Stories by E.P. Hubbs

Author:E.P. Hubbs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dalygood Media, LLC

The End

The End

She was wrapped in a towel, standing in her bathroom, thoroughly applying her foundation. Finishing the final touches of the base application, she closed her eyes in thought. The show the previous day had been jarring enough. She never liked it when minors were on. She knew their sadness was real, she could see it in their eyes. She felt anxious when she realized the gravitas of the upcoming show. It made her nervous to think of how many people would be watching.

General McMillan sent her the encoded message at four o’clock in the morning: they had captured a terrorist by the name of Michael Grad. McMillan’s team had been pursuing Grad for eleven weeks, ever since he attacked an office building in Michigan with an assault weapon, but he escaped instead of taking his own life. The media didn’t cover the story until military intelligence branded him a terrorist, confirming that he was conspiring to bring down the government. The story had been all over the news. There was only one punishment for treason; it was a supreme offense.

She began the task of drying and straightening her long, white-blonde hair and putting the rest of her makeup on. She wanted things to look just right; she knew there would be millions watching. She dressed in her executioner’s gear: the base layer was a skintight black jumpsuit, the outer was a large crimson hood that covered her face in shadows and flowed into a long cloak that extended to her calves. The cloak’s design was influenced by the longest running executioner in the Papal States of old: nicknamed Mastro Titta–Master of Justice. Fastened to her shoulders were flared silver pauldrons, and on her torso, a silver fitted breastplate matched with purple-tinted metal vambraces and greaves.

The outfit was more of a symbol of her power than of actual defensive use in combat. Her ‘patients’ were always unarmed and shackled. They were cowardly, pitiful excuses for human beings. However, she was commissioned to wear the ensemble and didn’t care enough to alter its design. Besides, she looked fierce, she thought as she smeared dark purple makeup over both eyes in a wide band across her face. She opened her bright blue eyes and stared at herself in the mirror. She smiled sinisterly, then spun and walked out into the hallway.

Hanging from a loop holster at her side was her plasma ax she named ‘Ker’. The hilt could be glimpsed when her long crimson cloak would flow in the wind as she walked. It had a golden handle and a platinum ax head, with plasma coils running along the bladed edge in illuminated pink lines. She had single-handedly struck down over six thousand criminals with Ker, which was twelve times as many patients as Mastro Titta killed in his lengthy career. Her justices were televised, and none of her patients ever required a second swing. Her silver boots clacked loudly on the polished stone flooring as she walked past two guards into the elevator.

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