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Equilibrium Fan Fiction by David W. Huang
The Cleric

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Based on concepts from Kurt Wimmer's "Equilibrium."

The events of "The Cleric" take place during two time lines. The first is several months after the end of "Equilibrium" and the other is made up of flashbacks starting on the day "Equilibrium" ends.

This story was started shortly after watching the film three times in theaters and due a lot to the promotion of it in the CHUD forums. I quit writing several times, changed directions a few times, and am afraid I've forgotten specific details from "Equilibrium" over time, but I hope the themes are still there somewhat.

"The time has come." Pacing on an ad hoc stage with terse energy, all eyes in the derelict warehouse were focused on him. His audience flexed their trigger fingers as they leaned against crates of munitions and narcotics. "While those self-proclaimed statesmen debate endlessly on how best to guide the path of us- the helpless masses- we die." The venom and anger in his tone was infectious, those listening sneering along. "As they seek out their places in history upon our fates, we die. Whilst they see only the high ideals of government and law, they're blind to the lawlessness happening here and now as we die. Well, no more. No more! It is their turn to die!" His impassioned rhetoric sent his cohorts to their feet, their voices and rifles raised. To be suddenly silenced.


The gunshot made them jump. The bullet through their leader's head made him fall. But they didn't notice. They were too busy dying. Only a few realized what was happening and, of those, only some had time to react. Who was shooting? Where was it coming from? Had the Ministry found them? Death danced among them silencing their questions.

When it was all over only one walked away? as composed as he came.


"First day and we get a job like this."

"Nate, we only get jobs like this."

She was right. The agents of SIMM only dealt with the messes. Since the fall of Libria, the revolutionists had been struggling to create a new order, treading carefully on the line between chaos and oppression. A provisional government, the Ministry of the New Republic, was thrown together to decide upon the foundations on which the new society would be built. Statesmen representing every faction and viewpoint gathered to debate these building blocks. Unfortunately, little progress was ever being made… other than their hatred of Father, they had little else in common. Their views on government and politics varied from Communists to Federalists to Anarchists to Capitalists and so on. As they struggled to find a common ground, a world awakening to emotion tried to run on autopilot. Naturally, there were problems.

The Ministry tried to let people govern themselves as much as possible but a branch of enforcement- without the force- was necessary, the Special Investigations and Mediation Ministry or SIMM... and its agents, the Ministers. The dual meaning's similarity to Cleric was no accident. With no law or social consensus, Ministers were without anymore authority than given to them by consent. The name invoked the same fear- and hatred, in some- of the Cleric while stressing this was a temporary arrangement to be terminated as soon as possible.

Ministers Tatiana Cassidy and Nathan Loric surveyed the carnage.

"Drug dealers? Strictly speaking drugs aren't illegal- except Prozium- but they could be outlawed at any time so there's a black market of sorts." Nathan shook his head and picked up an automatic rifle.

"Would be coup d'etat. The drugs were just to be bartered for all the guns. But a good theory. This probably would have been written off as a drug turf war if Statesman Prescott's son wasn't involved."

"Highly vocal activist against pretty much everything his father stands for, right? Which one is he?"

"Looks like the guy under this one. Cassidy, this scene's all wrong."

"Should we ask the locals if they touched anything? They were nice to baby-sit the scene but they're not enforcement trained. Well, neither are we but that's not the point-"

"No, aside from a few missing guns- and probably drugs- I don't think they moved the bodies."

"How can you tell?"

"Blood splatter and lividity. I've seen my share of violence, remember."

"Sure, only survivor of your rebel cell, how could I forget.", Tia rolled her eyes. Nathan's reputed experience made him the primary in terms of investigations while she would be expected to handle the meditations. SIMM partnerships were of such dissimilar pairs to supply checks and balances.

"The problem we've got is motive and means. If this were a turf war, why not take the goods and guns? If this was a hit, then how did they do it?"

"What do you mean? They shot everybody."

"Without getting hit? There's no blood or bodies from the other side."

"So they cleaned up or hit them by surprise."

"No, these bodies haven't been dead long enough for a clean up. There's enough return fire evident in the walls that someone should've been hit."

"'Should've...?' Are you suggesting Gun Kata?"

"Look at these guys. Almost every hit is center mass or a headshot with only a few rounds each. A hit squad would have riddled them with bullets. Plus, I've got this." Nate pulled a stove-piped bullet casing from the rifle's ejection port and dropped the gun.

"Brass? But that's from a victim, how does that help?"

"Look around. The only casings are from the victims." A look of wonder began to dawn on Tatiana's face.

"How is that possible? They're shot all to hell. Was he right in the middle of them?"

"Probably by the time these guys died, if you look over here. But if you're suggesting the gun casings got mixed up, rifle casings are very different than Cleric T30 casings."

"Right, but T30's are different still... they're caseless. Let me show you." He walked over to an open crate of munitions and pulled out two boxes of ammo. Nathan took out what looked like a square piece of chalk. He removed a knife from his coat and cut into it. "This is a caseless round. Everything except the bullet burns up upon ignition. Without casing and using smaller- but faster- bullets a T30 has about double the capacity of a typical pistol and by skipping the extraction and ejection phase a firing rate that rivals most machine guns. The downside is that tolerances are tight and the costs are high. This one round is roughly equal to this entire box of rifle ammo in price, but no expense would be spared for the Tetragrammaton." Nathan let it set in. His partner let out a low whistle.

"A Cleric."

"It all adds up. If the revolutionists hadn't bombed the Cleric headquarters, we could've probably used their forensics lab to confirm it. But I'd say the missing boxes of caseless ammo from this crate clinches it. As much as one man could carry."

"Damn, a Cleric. I thought they were all captured and killed... except for John Preston. The Partisans got worried about which side he might back and his ability to single-handedly bring down a government. Negotiating with any faction he supported would be like debating against the end of a gun barrel. It would have been easier to kill him but out of gratitude and respect they just disarmed and exiled him. You don't think he's come back?"

"It's not Preston. His T30s were taken, like you said, and he went willingly. But it's definitely a Cleric. No one knows how Gun Kata is practiced except any surviving Clerics. We lost that data during the revolution."

"Then how do we stop him?"

"Good question."

Through a riflescope from a distant factory window, the two Ministers were observed talking with locals outside a bit before getting into their cars and driving off.

Nathan rushed into his apartment, locked himself in his bedroom, and began to shake. Containing so much emotion was difficult to take, much less acting "normal" over it. The masquerade was hardly easy, but he had been getting by. He had used intelligence about the Underground to infiltrate it after the fact. To impersonate what he had been trained to hunt. At first, it was survival, but it was becoming his desire. If he had any sense, he'd run. Abandon this life and disappear. But now he wanted this life. Incredibly, he feared losing it. A proposition completely alien to him only months ago.

The act could have continued if not for the Clerics.

He moved his bed away from the wall and began to remove the screws from a vent behind the headboard. Reaching inside, Loric pulled out a segment of aluminum ducting and felt along the space behind the wall. Retrieving a case, he tossed it on the bed and opened it. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Before him were his Cleric T30 pistols.

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