Three weeks went by with no change. A massive manhunt for the Guy Fawkes Killer ensued. But no matter how many officers or SWAT teams that were dispatched, no one could find him. And every three days, a new victim was shot and killed. And still, no laws were changed. But the people were restless.
“Riots are breaking out in multiple cities across the country…”
“People are begging the Senate to repeal the Second Amendment…”
“The NRA released a statement today urging the Senate to not back down…”
“Schools are shutting down…”
“…families afraid to leave their homes…”
“Protests on college campuses are on the rise. Tensions are at an all-time high.”
“Guns are buns!”
“Guns rights activists insisting on raising awareness on mental health issues…”
“Fight right! Fight for gun rights!”
“The nation is torn on this issue more than ever before…”
Clyde listened to the reports in his living room, running his fingers across his magazine. 10 victims. And still, no change. But he had done his part. The people could only take so much. He still had 46 more senators to go. One of them would eventually cave. But even in the event that they maintained their stubbornness, he would win in the end.
Suddenly, there was a bang at his door. Seconds later, it was being kicked open and the living room was being flooded with lights.
“Clyde Mills!” a voice boomed. “Put your hands in the air!”
Clyde breathed a heavy sigh. His time had come. He dropped the magazine and put his hands behind his head.
“Has the law been changed?” he asked without turning to them.
“You have the right to remain silent,” an officer barked at him.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He spun around, whipped out a pistol, and fired one shot into the officer’s leg. He got off two more shots into the legs of two other officers before the rest opened fire. And several shots later, Clyde was on the floor, bleeding from his chest and stomach. He watched the officers aiming their guns down at him and held onto his last breath.
An officer stood over him with his gun aimed down at his face.
Clyde looked up at him. “Make a change.” Then his head dropped and he breathed his last.
Reports came in immediately of the death of the Guy Fawkes killer. The news was met with mixed reactions. But after the news of his death was relayed, new information about the victims was revealed and the reaction to this news was unanimous—shock.
The public discovered that Clyde Mills had been a retired Green Beret with collaborators in every state. His colleagues had included high school and elementary school teachers, EMT’s, funeral home owners, police officers, and SWAT team members. After his death, every victim he had shot slowly came up living one by one. They had all been shot with rubber bullets laced with powerful sedatives that knocked them out for weeks at a time. His colleagues in hospitals and funeral homes had maintained the ruse of their deaths until the appointed time.
But Clyde’s death was no ruse, he had no surviving family members, and he would never see the result of this actions.