D-Day – The National Gathering
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Setting: Blackwood National Square – 10,000 seats, all filled. Massive screens. Soldiers in position. Thunder rumbling like drums of fate.
Amara stood at the center, cloaked in royal black, flanked by top B.A.M. commanders, Council Executives, and the new elite. Cameras from BBN broadcasted across every sector, slum, city, and stronghold of the Blackwood Empire.
The gathering had begun.
Her voice thundered through the speakers:
> "Let this be known—Blackwood does not beg, does not bend, does not fall. We rise. And in the absence of the crown—I ruled. I protected you. I stabilized our chaos!"
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Even children stood still. Soldiers scanned rooftops. Drones hovered. The nation held its breath.
Suddenly—movement.
A ragged figure stepped forward from the crowd.
Torn clothes. Mud-drenched feet. A thick, wild beard covering half his face. Skin burnt by the sun. One could've mistaken him for a dying wanderer—except for his posture… calm, too calm.
"Who is that?" a B.A.M. sniper asked, adjusting the scope.
"He's not registered—no digital tag," came the reply.
Ten B.A.M. units locked rifles. Red dots aimed.
> "Identify yourself immediately. You are entering a restricted zone. Halt!"
He didn't.
He kept walking. Slowly. Deliberately. Right toward the stage.
Amara's speech broke.
She squinted into the blinding sunlight. Her jaw tightened.
The crowd gasped. Whispers erupted.
> "Who is that?"
"A protester?"
"A madman?"
"A suicide mission?"
"No… no. Look at how he walks…"
"TAKE HIM DOWN!" a general barked.
Guns cocked. Fingers trembled. Red lasers converged on his chest.
But still—he walked.
Closer.
Closer.
Until one soldier stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar—
And froze.
His knees buckled.
He collapsed.
"Stand down!" another yelled.
But it was too late.
The beggar threw back his hood.
He removed the ragged scarf around his face.
And the world stopped.
---
Chris Blackwood.
Alive.
Uninjured.
Calm. Cold. Eyes burning with the weight of a thousand secrets.
"Stand down," he said quietly.
And the rifles dropped like toys in the hands of children.
Some soldiers knelt instantly. Others trembled in disbelief.
The crowd? First silent.
Then screaming.
Crying.
Chanting.
"BLACKWOOD! BLACKWOOD! BLACKWOOD!"
Amara stood frozen. Her lips parted. Her chest heaved once—then she took a step back.
He climbed the stairs slowly, eyes on her, never blinking.
Chris reached the podium.
Took the mic.
Looked at the entire nation through the cameras.
And spoke:
> "I was watching. Listening. Judging. You thought I was gone... but I was everywhere. In the silence of your fears. In the decisions you made without me. Now, I'm back. And judgment begins today."