In two straight rows they marched, the soles of their shoes hitting the floor in unison. The gold buttons of the navy blue uniform sparkled in the dim lighting.

 He watched them approach with a curious eye. As soon as he had seen them appear he knew they were coming for him. So they have finally come to execute me, he thought, a smirk appearing on his thin lips. After waiting for so long, they’re finally gonna let me go.

 He was in jail. He had been for thirteen years. Thirteen years for a single act. Thirteen years for one explosion. Thirteen years for a flaming tank. He was a terrorist, born and bred. His father had been one too. A terrorist fighting to stop the militaristic rule.

 The United States of America wasn’t the land of the free anymore. Many, many years ago, further back than anyone could remember, there was a struggle- a struggle for life and liberty. A dictator rose, a man of such strength both mentally and physically that no one could stand up to him. He fought liberty, and won.

 And it seemed as though he never left. Each of his heirs was essentially him- a clone. Every time a clone would pass, a new one was put into place. There were many made to order clones in storage all over the planet. There was no stopping the process. There was no stopping the All Supreme Leader. He could never die.

 And the world was nightmare. The military was everywhere as though life was nothing but a giant game of Risk. There could be no opposition to the All Supreme Leader. Opposition was jailed and eventually executed. His father had been dead thirteen years. He had hated the All Supreme Leader, just as he taught his son to. But in this world, there was no toleration for unique opinion.

 The thirteen uniformed soldiers halted in front of his cell, and parted to either side. They made a path between them, revealing a man in a slick black suit and tie, smiling pleasantly. But back in his cell where he still sat with a smirk, he knew this was not an execution run after all.

 The man in suit approached. “Mr. Marvin Daley,” spoke the man, his voice as greasy as his appearance, “You are an expert with explosives.”

 Marvin got up slowly. He said nothing. A guard unlocked the cell, the hinges squeaking with age.

 “You are to come with me, Mr. Daley,” ordered the man in the suit.

 Marvin did as he was told, quite unsure of his fate. The man in the suit was unfamiliar to him, and quite mysterious. Marvin followed the enigmatic man into a brightly lit room, painted completely white. The thirteen guards surrounded him closely, their rifles pointed at the ceiling.

 The man in the suit seemed very calm. He said, “can you diffuse this?”

 One of the guards pulled back a black cloth to reveal a large concentration of nuclear materials. A large red readout had been attached, laughing at all who gazed upon it. 120, it read, 119. Marvin was beside himself. This was no amateur nuclear weapon. This was a concentrated super-erou bomb. Such a weapon had only been a myth, but clearly it was now a reality.

 “I say, man, diffuse it!” the man in the suit ordered, all sense of calm diluted by shear panic.

 Marvin glanced back for a moment, almost smiling. The man in the suit was obviously aware of the bomb’s ability to destroy the planet, like a hammer smacking into a walnut.

 Without a word, Marvin knelt beside the super weapon. 87 read the readout. 86. He studied it briefly. 83, 82. One yank on a wire would save the planet. 77, 76. One, single yank. 73, 72. He went to follow through, but pulled back his hand. The readout was at 67. The survival of the world, the survival of this doomed society, lay in his hands.  He could save them all, and let them live in fear and oppression, or he could kill them all, end their lives in a flicker of light and put them out of their misery. Could he murder so many people? Would they be thankful?  He hesitated. 47, 46, 45, 44.  It was up to him.

 “Well, hurry!  Do something!  Do something!” The man in suit was frantic.

 Marvin looked back at him again. This time it was very clear to him who this coward was.  And he was disgusted.

 21, 20, 19.  A decision had to be made.  Live or die.  Freedom or oppression.   Was it worth it to end the world forever?

 16, 15, 14.

 On the 13th second, he made-up his mind.

 And he was happy.