The Imperial/Fiction/Angola Storm
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
This is one of three short vignettes written about The Imperial by Alumette. The were originally posted in December 2006 on the COHGuru fan forum.
- "The Library"
- "Angola Storm"
- "Queen of Peace"
Angola, 1961
Alistair watched as the fires blazed to the sky. His heart broke as he heard the screams of the dying—Angolans and Portuguese alike. The rebels had moved quickly across the countryside, savagely destroying coffee plantations in their wake. Alistair had come here to help, and there was so much confusion. He could not disagree with the rebels’ cause, but this violence and mayhem was wrong!
How many had he saved, on either side? And yet there seemed to be no end to this violence. Neither side would listen to reason. Did it matter, then, if he saved one frightened plantation owner, or three Angolan children, that day? His despair and hopelessness threatened to overtake him.
Alistair closed his eyes and exhaled. This weight was so heavy sometimes…
And then he saw them. The two strangers—poor, simple folk going about their business, and in the blink of an eye they were gone. He heard the deadly rattle of Tommy guns, heard his mother scream, felt the involuntary response to go for the magical source—any spell, to protect himself and his mother. But there was no need. Those two men, who moments earlier had simply been loafing on the street, hoping for a break, hoping maybe to find work, had in that moment become heroes.
Their moment was brief. Alistair remembered their dying breaths, remembered looking into their eyes as their souls receded, remembered feeling the warmth of their blood on his hands as he knelt to try to help them, to thank them for their sacrifice. The whine of the police sirens wailed in the background, an urban dirge for two nameless, forgotten heroes. What went through their minds? They placed themselves in harm’s way on behalf of Alistair and his mother without hesitation. Two men he never knew took a bullet for him and his mother.
And the gangsters had gotten away.
It seemed so long ago. It was so long ago. 1932. He knew, as he always did, that he could not sit by and do nothing. Those two men did not have the luxury of invulnerability that Alistair had. They saw their chance and they took it, without once thinking of what it might do to them. They’d chosen their side.
Alistair knew he couldn’t choose sides in this situation. Except for the human side. He could not abide this pain and violence. Something had to be done. He would continue to save everyone he could, and make every effort to stem the violence.
He put in a call to the Portuguese government and the UN. And then he flew off into the night, hoping to be a voice of reason and peace in this dark time.
