Coins I

Telos had decided he needed to test the power of the city, now that it had decided to rise up against him. He put together a large contingent, over a hundred men, and marched on the south-eastern gate of Damascus.

They approached in two columns, hidden down on the sides of the main road. Surprisingly, they encountered no resistance while entering the city. Telos became wary, but wanted to see this force that he had heard of. So they continued into the city.

Damascus appeared deserted. Cars were stopped in the middle of roads, papers blowing around, sort of apathetically, as if to make the gesture of emptiness, yes, look, it’s barren, nobody to see here, just us pieces of paper dancing around like it’s the goddamn prom!

The silence was broken eventually. A gunshot here. They took cover behind the cars, the opened doors, the empty facades and upturned counters. Faces appeared in buildings across the streets. Flashes of gunfire. Telos didn’t shoot, he just watched. He was fascinated.

Soon the battle was joined as the shooting became regular from both sides. There was some screaming from around one of the corners, and a small group of people ran out, wielding guns and knives. Their guns blazed wildly, but they were quickly killed.

Something was not right, though. Their bodies were too small, too youthful. Telos choked. Jesus. They were children.