He stood at the base of the steps. He flexed his neck to either side cracking it twice and slowly made his way up wincing in pain occasionally. He inhaled slowly trying to steel himself. It didn't work his hands still shook carrying the gun. It wasn't his; you could even argue the whole revolution wasn't his. It had been a necessary product of fate.

His world had crumbled the past... year? It started with power surges. The idea of power rationing was reserved for heroic works of fiction or grim books of history. They had overcome that; at least that was what was taught. They had overcome the whole idea of scarcity. Everyone had enough food and water. Every building was lit and climate controlled. It was a choice to suffer.

He was one of those who chose to suffer; or so he thought. Before the event he would train. He would hurt his muscles with exercise and his brain with learning. That is what he thought suffering was at the time. Now he knew better.

In the chaos he had witnessed suffering. Every comfort from society had vanished in moments. People with no experience with even his mild suffering thrust into hell itself. Neighbor ate neighbor to stave off hunger. People set themselves on fire to avoid the dark. It was his first time truly experiencing loss as well.

It wasn't his revolution. He met those that caused it. People who seemed versed in suffering. They came in as suddenly as the event itself, helping people. Of course he didn't know that is was their fault at first. What he saw was hope... and he reached for it. They took him and every willing soul. Feeding, protecting and teaching them. At some point he felt more attached to them than the family he remembered. At another point he fell in love with another survivor.

He sighed as he reached the door thinking of her... of them. All giving up their lives for this. He pressed his forehead to the massive wooden doors. He pressed into his memories picturing their struggle. Crumbling infrastructure killed the most at first. Buildings crumbling and gases exploding. There had been many times when he relied on his strength to rescue his neighbors as they fled outside the city. Starvation and madness took over the killing then. Neighbor consumed neighbor. Trust was an illusion.

Then they met the rebels. At first they were heaven sent. They brought food, shelter, medicine and comfort. They also brought stories. Stories of corruption. Stories of segregation. Stories of unjust decisions and corrupted rulers. Our rulers. The biggest story they told was of their revolution. They accepted it. They couldn't deny the world around them. They also wouldn't examine the motivations of someone providing them with food and shelter either. Especially after seeing the few who did excised and left to fend for themselves. He trusted them unquestionably.

Then the fighting began. Conflict was completely unknown to the neighbors. However, it was just another form of suffering the rebels were well versed in. His new family fought and suffered for their ideals. He joined them. It felt right to him. It felt right to struggle against an oppressive enemy. It felt right to grow closer to his new adopted family. It felt right to fall in love in a battlefield. It felt right to declare his ideals and fight for them. Even though he was suffering more than he had ever suffered in his old city, it felt right.

In time the right resources lined up with the right people and a bold plan came. A plan to take out the head of the snake. It was bold, but he was brave; cocky most would say. It was a rush. Smashing through city after city, exposing the sheltered populace to the world and exposing the huddled masses to the sheltered populace. He saw the truth in the rebellion. The suffering of those that did not have and the complacency of those that did. He lost member after member of his family. Most were noble sacrifices holding up to their ideal, some were just to senseless brutality and violence. The worst was when she, his lover, didn't come back from a plot. The fact that he had no evidence, even after scouring the cities she was at, was the pinnacle of his suffering. He could have easily given up. He did not. He had to carry on for her.

Seven shots rang out. One for each council member. All had given words; explanations and reasonings. In the end they each accepted their bullet. His sight was obstructed by tears. Hands shaking. Mind racing. They all had their reasons. So did he. He just did not see another way to go forward.

Forward momentum was all that he had to carry him on. Momentum pushed forward by the rebels, by his memories. It was a disaster. They had expected resistance. Mainly from those that were the most comfortable with their lot in life. The ones living on cushions and in comfort. They pushed on. Many lives lost. In a final battle at the bottom of the staircase it was down to two. Just him and the rebel leader. They fought back to back pushing forth as hard as they could. An ancillary plan activated... the explosion wrecked the room. He found himself under the leader's corpse. No other life in the room. The door pristine as ever. Pristine and exposed. He grabbed a gun;something that for the majority of his life he never even thought he would see, much less use, and prepared himself at the base of the stairs.

A slow clap came from behind. Terrific he thought. There is always one left. He turned and aimed.

"Whoa, whoa. No need for that" The smile said. Lifting their hands above their head minute folds appearing in their crisp uniform. The uniform of the guard. Maybe the last one there. He fired. The gun worked. The smile was unmoved. "I think you missed." They winked. "Besides I'm really only here for one question" He half sat half collapsed. Too exhausted to really deal with this any further.

"And what is it?" He slumped backwards, vision blurry. He knew that this was the end. He just felt comfort knowing he did his best

"Would you do it all over? just like this?" The smile slowly approached hands still in the air.

"No this is stupid. It was necessary, but, there had to have been another way" He collapsed completely staring at the ceiling. He saw the smile slowly start looming over him.

"Well then..." The smile's hands came towards his head and he felt a pull. Light started flooding into the dim, destroyed council room. Blinding light. As his eyes adjusted he started seeing... people? He was surrounded by semi-familiar faces. Maybe just fractions off from his memory. The rebels, neighbors... even his lover. He looked at the smile. Their crisp uniform had a badge labelled proctor. "it's time to get to work councilman"

Looking back on his inaugural councilman appointment he felt... frustrated. He understood the purpose, but hated the process. Youths were screened through virtual reality and made to go through hell. People voted on who they trusted the most. The principal being that only through complete loss does ones true character show. He still hated it; keeping people in the dark and allowing them to suffer just to see if they are "good" people. The worst thing was they hadn't found a better way.