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As the soldiers stormed his base he contemplated what he had done. Was his actions right? Or were they misguided they say even the most gruesome people will come to this stage. The stage where you are being approached by the reaper, and wonder what could have been different. 

It's funny how just a few days ago he was so sure in himself that he would never think to question his own actions. Though now as he sits and awaits death he does. Did those people deserve to die? And even if they did, was it my place to bring it to them? These questions burned into his mind as he sat there, waiting.

Surely he would go down as one of the most hated people in history. I mean who could blame them? His twisted idles had lead him down a path rarely missed. He imagined the flames. He could picture then so vividly. The smoke too. It was all so real. Though they deserved it. They are nothing but animals!

As heard gun fire he started to panic. He would surely become a prisoner. Doomed to be tortured until they decided to kill him. Though his achievements were nothing to turn you head away from. His regime would go down as one of the most deadly that has ever existed. 

The only question was if it was right. That arises a bigger question, what does right mean. It's a question that seems obvious to one person, but the person next to you thinks the same thing. The fact of the matter is true justice is decided by the winners. It did not matter if he was right because after his enemies declared victory their version would be the new right. It's not a battle of idles. It is a battle if might. The person with more might will have their idles accepted over the other persons.

He believed that they deserved to burn. To become no more than ash. They were animals for even existing. They deserved to die a horrible death. What better way to achieve that then the best of the flames.

Though he had been playing with flames. A lot of powerful nations disagreed with him. And now the flames have got out of hand, threatening to burn everything he had ever worked for. What was it all for anyway. All the sacrifices he had made will be in vain. So what was the point in even making them?! He had wasted his life cleansing the world from those beasts, and after him no one would continue. All for nothing.

He would go down as vile. No one would ever advocate for him. If only he had the chance to explain himself. The problem is once he is gone everyone can villanise him freely leaving him no way to defend himself. Made jokes about, used as the staple model of what not to be. If only they could hear his side. 

There is no chance now though. He was doomed. He would be sent to the deepest layers of hell for his crimes and for what? To be known as one of the worst people to ever live? None of his goals would be accomplished so what was the point?! He did not believe himself to be a bad person, but everyone else would. Though it was hopeless now. It is over. They has won and they will villanse him. Children make jokes about him. It will get to the point that sense everyone knows he is so obviously evil any argument otherwise is taken as a joke.

This bleak situation played over and over in his head. What course of action should he take? Wait for them to capture him? They would just torture him and kill him. Whatever the choice he must act while he has the chance. If he is going to commit suicide he must do it now. Hesitant he takes out a pill. This would be the best way. He swallows it and falls to the floor. Gasping for air as the cyanide pulses through his body. As his body stops this will a historical day. The day the infamous Adolf Hitler had fallen.

    It had been too long since the last job. Jesse James paced around his mother’s house, contemplating his brother Frank’s words. Was it really time to give up the life? To stop hiding and just go back to being normal citizens? Jesse certainly didn’t think so. For too long had he been hiding away on this countryside farm, evading the Pinkertons and planning the next heist. Most of the old gang had been either killed or arrested by now, leaving Jesse stuck in a tight spot. Was he to create an all new gang, with new members and people he didn’t know, or should he attempt to pull old friends back into the outlaw life? With that thought, Jesse noticed an aroma of steak from the kitchen, and decided he would sleep on the decision.

    Jesse woke up in the morning and knew what he was to do. He decided to recruit the Ford brothers, of whom Charley was a previous associate. They had been on raids together in the past, and Jesse trusted him. Along with Charley, Jesse was recruiting his brother Bob, who was eager to be part of the outlaw life. Jesse was confident that with this new help nothing and nobody would be able to stand in his way.

    Unbeknownst to Jesse, Bob and Charley had been conducting secret negotiations with the governor for months, planning on bringing the James brother in for a reward. They talked with the governor and he offered then a large reward in partnership with the railroad companies. The reward was large, five thousand dollars; dead or alive. The Ford brothers’ plan was to build up Jesse’s trust and then betray him at a crucial moment, leaving him open for capture and arrest. The brothers would then go to the governor and collect their reward, before leaving the state and starting a new life.

    Jesse woke up, once again, inside the townhouse on his mother’s farm. He walked out of his room, thinking about the future. Something didn’t feel right with the Ford brothers. He wasn’t sure if they didn’t trust him, didn’t like him, or were just unhappy about their current situation. Either way, it would have to be dealt with. Teamwork was extremely important, as shown from the James’ gang past failures. When they argued and had trouble working together, the heists always went sideways and ended with something getting injured or killed. In order to ensure this second-wave-gang was going to succeed, Jesse would need to settle and qualms with the Fords as soon as he possibly could. Jesse sat down at the breakfast table and picked up the newspaper. He read through the news, and saw that former gang member Dick Liddil had just confessed to the murder of Wood Hite. This was something the Fords should have known about, and would have definitely let Jesse know about under normal circumstances. But this was clearly no normal circumstance. Jesse began to get suspicious. Bob and Charley had been acting strange lately, but he had just chalked it up to nerves and anxiety about the next heist. It turns out now that it may have been a bit more than that. Jesse began to wonder: if they didn’t tell him about this murder, how much more weren’t they telling him? What secrets were they hiding? Still suspicious, Jesse decided to wait and see if they attempted to take action against him. He sat back in his chair and looked around the room, observing his safe house. Jesse’s eyes fell on a painting on the wall, just next to the sofa. It was a nice painting, of a sunset falling over a cornfield during blooming season. There was just one issue: it was very crooked. Jesse picked up his revolvers and stood up, walking over to the sofa. He heard footsteps from the hallway and noted that Bob and Charley were entering the room. Jesse placed his revolvers down onto the sofa and stood up on a stool. He reached over and grabbed the painting adjusting it. Just as it was set perfectly back into place, a loud gunshot rang out. Jesse felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and fell off of the stool, dead instantly.

    Bob blew the smoke away from his revolver, smiling and looking down at the corpse of Jesse James. He put away his gun signaled his brother, and they left to go collect their reward.

This review made me laugh way more than I should have. 

“Where is she going,” Shouted Antony across the battlefield as the sounds of swords slammed shields and the cries of dying men echoed around. As Antony watched Cleopatra board her ships and leave to retreat to Egypt. After more fighting Antony was able to break the fighting enough for him and a couple ships to leave right behind Antony. Octavia has successfully destroyed the armies of both Cleopatra and Antony on the banks of Greece and now will follow what remains.

Almost a year later, Octavian was knocking on your door and with him his roman legions.

You anxiously watch as the horde of men gleam in their armor. The sounds of hammers steadily sharpening their weapons and repairing shields and armor. You stand on the walls and watch; you hear anxious words being spread among your guards and those along the walls keeping watch. You know you are outnumbered and outmatched. The only question left is when will the end draw near.

Days pass and the air was tense as the strong powerful army outside Alexandria stood tall while facing against what meager remains of Antony and your army. Slowly you watch as Antony leads the combined forces and marches out to meet for the final battle against Octavian. Once the fighting begins you and your personal guards leave to your mausoleum. Now you wait and wait, still hearing the clash of metal against metal in the distance and sounds of padding feet as they run this way and that. Your guards stand near the entrance as you go and lie down to rest.

You quickly wake to the sound of grunting and shuffling. A heavy thud happens along with a small sound of heavy metal panging against the ground. Your breathing begins to pick up as you feel your heart speeds up. Your love Antony has fallen and now the romans are here for you as well. You knew this would happen and are ready for the end. You stare at the door frame and after a few moments a shadowed figure appeared. At first you could not believe your eyes for it was one of your guards. He was bleeding from his arm and a slash across his face was spewing blood down his chin, but he was still standing.

“What happened Nour,” You asked with a little concern dripping in your voice along with a shakiness due to the stress you put your mind to.

“Assassins happened, two of them attacked us. One of them stabbed Maat through the eye but the other one only slashed my nose and cheek. I killed him but the other one ran away after I lunged at him next,” Nour stated all of this while readjusting his armor and trying to wipe some of the blood from his face but only smearing it worse.

“Thank you, Nour. Stand guard here from now on.” With that Nour nodded and turned around facing the only hallway into the room.

You send a prayer in hopes that Antony is faring well but know well enough that the odds are not in favor of both of you surviving.
You hear a quick paced padding outside and then coming down the hall. Nour stands at the ready with sword in hand and yells for the man to stop. The man continues a little further and then leans over breathing heavily. You get a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“What is it, what happened.”

“It is Antony, my Queen. He has fallen,” The man manages to spout out before needing another round of lungsful of air.

“How did he die?”

The man tries to speak but is still needing more air.

“I said how did he die,” You say again with more anger in each syllable.

“We heard…that you were killed, my Queen. We heard an assassination attempt was made and that it…and that it was successful. It wasn’t until he stabbed himself in the chest that we received news that you were still alive,” The man sputtered out as quickly as he could between breaths.

Your stomach drops as you drop to your knees. It is lost. Your people, your kingdom, your love. You order the messenger to go grab the cobra.

“If it is all lost then I want to go out my way, not Octavian’s.”

Nour stands guard still as the runner leaves and then returns holding a vase.

You nod and take the vase and signal for both men to leave. You sit on the stone table and remove the lid revealing a deadly cobra coiled within. You slide your arm in and pull the snake out. It watches and with a jerk it strikes your chest. The sudden pain burns and your blood boils as you lay down on the table releasing the snake. It isn’t as fast as a dagger to the chest, but it is a royal death for sure. It is only 15 minutes until breathing becomes too hard for you as your chest tightens. It isn’t as fast as a dagger to the chest, but it is a royal death. Your life flashes before your eyes, all the power moves siding with this roman and then that roman. What battles you chose and which you regretted. The last feelings you feel are heat and swelling and then nothing.