It was 2008, and the United States was under martial law, a result of the constant stream of terrorist attacks. George Bush ruled the country like his own personal playground, and the US was on the verge of dropping into obscurity. Oppressive laws kept the people in constant fear of those in power, but Sanchez was different. He did his best to hide from the authorities, but when the sun went down, it was an entirely different story. They called him a revolutionary, a terrorist. His defiance was all that left hope in the hearts of the Americans.. During the day, he simply tried to avoid the ‘anti-terrorism’ cameras that were everywhere, with their searching eyes, and identification systems. This so-called ‘temporary solution’ had lasted thre

Upon entering the opulence of the White House, they were greeted by a hail of gunfire from various places, but they attackers had the advantage of passion in the heat of battle, and they once again prevailed.

“George W. Bush,” he began. “I relieve you of command, on the behalf of all present, and by proxy of the people of the United States, you are hereby dismissed.” He said in a brooding rage.

The attack nearly faltered at the doors of the presidential suite, but once again, the attackers were spurred on by passion, and they forced entry into the president’s chamber. There he sat. The man who had engineered their own suffering, sitting, smiling smugly, as they pressed their way in. Sanchez moved to the front, and drew his weapon.

As they neared even closer, Sanchez began to hear the telltale thumping of low-flying helicopters coming near. He shouted something into the CB radio in the dashboard, and the caravan behind him roared into life, as 12mm chain guns began rotating, propelling hundreds of high-speed projectiles at the approaching threat. The metal tore into metal, and they dropped out of the sky like ducks shot in mid-flight. The caravan pressed on at high speeds, pressing ever closer to the beltway, all the while, the flatbeds with mounted weapons fired at the enemy as they closed in.

The guerilla-style raid continued through the night, and the revolutionaries, terrorists, in the eyes of those who they opposed, inched their way ever closer to the center of the city. Finally, at about an hour to dawn, Sanchez was at the gates of the White House. He issued the order to regroup, and there they stood, hundreds upon thousands of the people whom the man who sat a mere few hundred yards away had ground under his boot for the last 3 years…it was time to take revenge. In short order, the gate was torn down, and they began to march up to the doors. Snipers

Some topics in this essay:
George Bush, White House, , white house, ruled country,