The Destroyer

I was sitting on the bus on my way home. It got stuck on the highway, as usual. So I was chilling on my seat in the back, earplugs in, hoping the traffic ends, as usual – I always get a seat on any bus. Maybe it’s just that good luck.
BANG.
About five vans, all in black, quickly surrounded the bus. Around twenty men, dressed in black, all masked, jumped out from the vans. Two men cracked the front door open with a hammer. Using their knives, they quickly controlled the driver and most passengers in the front. I kept telling myself, “Keep calm, man. You got this.”
Slowly, they started looking at everyone’s face. I knew it. They’re coming for the person. The person who stood up and took a stand against them. The person who puts the justice in front of them.
It’s me.

I am a student. But don’t get fooled by my appearance: that’s not it.
Before I came here, I had a pretty wealthy life there: My family earned a huge fortune from developing internet in the end of the last century. My father was a reputable person who owns the country’s first online forum, where people gathered and discussed everything. I never worried about my life: My education, my amusement, my everything.
But times change. We got a new government there. Corrupt as hell. Savage. Evil. Greedy. Terrifying. All my friends started disappearing, one by one. But my parents never mentioned any of that. “Nothing to worry, kid,” my mother says, “things will get better, sooner or later.”
Soon my father stopped working. He looked tired every day. I heard from my “surviving” friends that his website came down because the government didn’t like it. He lost his job.
And there’s one day, the officials from the tax office knocked on our house’s door. My parents knew: It’s a raid. My father took out everything that can stop them, but they just tear these things into pieces.
“Listen. We don’t care about these pieces of trash of these people. We are doing it as we’re ordered to. Now, give way, please.”
My parents just kept standing in front of them, silent.
These officials took out their pistols.
My parents remained still. Tears running down from their cheeks.
BANG! My father, the strongest man as far as I know, just lied down, formed a fresh wound on my childhood.
My mother cried when she tried to save her husband. “Please! Don’t take our child!”
“Shut up!” The officials came in and opened all our drawers. Bunches and bunches of our hard-earned cash carried out onto their trucks. As soon as they emptied all the drawers, they drove away as fast as possible, leaving my father bleeding.
He died.
My mother didn’t want me to live like that. We went into exile. I quitted school. But my mother still couldn’t believe I was safe. One by one, my friends went disappearing. I began to be afraid.
It was another day and my mother finally got a chance to send me abroad. “We’ll handle everything but one.” The man who sent me here, said. “You’ll have to crawl into the cargo storage of that plane. Once the plane leaves ground, the crew will let you out.”
I accepted. My mother spent her last savings putting me into safety. And this makes up my first time riding a plane.
Before I left, my mother handed me a bag with some comic books. I like comic books. “Keep them safe,” my mother said, “so that when you miss me, or your father, you can read these comic books.”
I landed here. Several hours of tumbling journey relieved from my shoulder. Border agents lead me to their office, where I was given a warm welcome. “We know how hard it takes. But anyways, you are here, and you are safe.” They gave me a large box of supplies. I kept appreciating them that I just couldn’t stop.
My foster family lead me away. To their house. They looked me after. As I grow, I started to know all these shady stuff that government did. They took every rich families’ money. They spent them for their own pleasure.
It was another day, one year later. I missed my family so much that I started reading my comic books over and over. My foster mother asked: “Oh, you’re still reading the oldest one in that series?”
“There’re newer ones?” I was surprised.
She brought me some. It’s the new ones. I opened them and noticed the thinner pages. “Wait, why are the pages so thin? Look at my book. It’s that thick!”
By mistake, I teared a page off the book. Pages of paper hidden inside the pictures. I took one of them out. “Bank Statement,” it says. 8 figures. Lots of transactions, showing where they got the shady money from, and where they spent them. Then I teared all the pages off. From other comic books, too. More such pages of paper revealed.
“Woah. What the hell is that?” My foster mother was just plain surprised.
From all these extra paper taken out from my comic books, I saw one page handwritten by my mom. “Release them to the public. Let their guilt to be known.”
“Woah.” My foster father came too. “You really need to. Realize your mother’s dream. For real.”
So they booked the community arena for me, while I notified all these TV stations in my city. I did the presentation. I showed all these evidences to the public. They gasped.
Rounds of applause. Media probed. Headlines gathered.

“Hey, you. Wake up.” They finally found me. I know what’s going to happen next.
“Looking sharp.” I said. I jumped out from my seat and kicked him right in his face, then I took his knife. “Just a bunch of part-time scumbags? Why don’t you guys bring an army here? Like an ARMY???” The other man took out his radio, probably called his colleagues, then took out his pistol. But it’s too late. I threw my knife at him, right at his chest. “Oops, didn’t mean to kill him. But anyways.” I emptied out his pockets and got that nice pistol and some bullets.
I ran out of the bus, when the cops also arrived. The men in the vans were just damn scared. They probably couldn’t believe this. I shot out all the tires of the vans first, as swiftly as I can, then I tried to shoot as many masked men as possible, at their shoulder. I don’t really want to kill them, to be honest: Neutralizing them is enough. It was pretty difficult, but I did it. Relief. I walked to a police officer, who just stepped out of his car, and…
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Damn it! There’s like a…like a whole damn convoy of these vans, but with…like machine guns on their tops! SERIOUSLY? THAT’S LIKE SUPER INSANE TO KILL A TEEN WITH THAT, I thought. Anyways, luckily that officer was still standing outside, so I grabbed the car key from his pocket and got into the cop car.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
No more time to think. I stepped on gas. Another lifetime experience began.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
I turned on the siren and drove on the road shoulder. These brats were also fast as hell, like, they must’ve got special mutated vans with like freaking machine guns from like somewhere, like arm dealers, I guess? I drove as fast as I can. “Gas, Gas, Gas!” I started singing that meme song as I was getting closer to 200 km/h.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
It’s getting quieter and quieter. Knew it. I mean, these are vans. They’re like pretty heavy already, thus it can’t be faster than a small car. Plus, this is a police car, which is like a special mutated car, so I thought I’m fine.
These brats finally got out of my sight. Relief again.
I started thinking about telling people my extraordinary experience: Imagine if your first driving experience is to drive a cop car, and you tell that to girls? That’ll be like zero hassle of choosing a wife later on. Imagine if your first driving experience is to drive a cop car, and you say that on Twitter? That’ll be like thousands of retweets and followers…
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” A voice in my head shouted. Sounds like my mother. “It is YOUR CHANCE to BRING THEM TO JUSTICE and LET THE WORLD KNOW HOW SAVAGE THEY ARE! Also, you can’t just get carried away when you’re driving that fast.”
Damn. I realized that these brats are completely out of sight. “Shoot. My original plan is to bait them into a cop station…I guess I’ll just wait here.” I lowered my speed to let these brats catch up on me, which they did. “I guess what I need to do from this point is to keep the distance and bait them to that cop station.” Fortunately, I’m familiar with this highway, as I look out during my daily bus journeys. Lucky me.
And then I drove into a police station. I drifted in front of the building. Perfect parking skills. “Woah, can’t believe I can do this!” But no more time for self-compliments. Let’s get right into the business.
“Woah. Look at that. Who drives a cop car like this?”
“Hello…it’s me…” I didn’t realize that I was so tired from high-speed driving that I can’t even speak fluently.
“Wait, you…the government leak guy?”
Ouch. “The government leak guy”? That’s a bit too much. “Yeah, I guess. Anyways, man. I just sped on the highway with that car, you know, and then there’s these guys…”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“…chasing me. So just ‘arrest’ me already. And them, too.”
An officer led me to a cell and said, “Man, we got this. You’ll be safe here.” He locked the door. “We’ll get you out tomorrow. No records.”
“No records.” I said. I heard the glass shattering. It’s these brats. Too late.

There were tons of people greeting me outside the police station just now. Governmental officials, media, or just ordinary people, some of them carrying slogans. “KILL ALL FOREIGN SPIES”, one said. I smiled at it.
“Okay…I got this, man.” A woman was helping me with the microphone. “Let me tell you something. You got unfairness in your life, and you felt like you lost? No! Fight it. Unfairness never wins. That’s it.” I quickly crawled through the crowd, and got my bag that I left on the bus from an old couple. “Oh, and the bus driver, too. That was so unfortunate.” I left the scene swiftly to get to the cop car that is going to send me home.
“Oh yeah, by the way.” The driver said, “You have a really nice driving skill.”
“Thanks. I mean I tried it on spot. I can’t believe it worked.”
“Here’s a letter from the security services. You’ll probably going to change some of your habits to protect your life.”
I opened it. A bunch of appreciations, and warnings, and suggestions…
“Wait, ‘Wear women’s clothes in the public to avoid people recognizing you’? That’s a bit much.”
“Wow. But I didn’t write that. It’s the bosses. They probably know what’s best for you.”
“Ouch.” I gasped. A notification from my phone popped up. I glanced it over and read it out.
“BREAKING: International community condemns the act of attempting to assassinate a 15-year-old teenager, who leaked governmental documents that reveals the severe corruption and terrible human rights condition in the country, on foreign soil.”

I am a student, who am also destroying a country, for my family.