No jo mo neuf. in Hot town, summery in the city - 2017

Not so much a story as setting a scene. Today the prompt said to write a story with the words: barrage, revolutionary, golden, scar and research.

With a barrage of hate filled spew, the vitriolic leader of the Andromeda Galaxy sprayed spittle at the hundreds of TV cameras jostling for prime position, hoping to get the best angle of his flared nostrils, nose hairs quivering with anger.

“THIS REVOLUTIONARY NEEDS TO BE STOPPED!!” he screeched, “I have done my research and that research was good research and it told me that he needs to be stopped. And his Golden Halo gang!”

The press surged forward, against the security guards’ looming seven foot bodies. The whispers of ‘Golden Halo?’ flittered across conference room.

At the back of the room, leaning against the cast iron doors, stood a guy who knew; his eyes twinkled with humour, his mouth turned up slightly at the corner as he watched the Chairman losing control whose smug smile was no longer such a permanent fixture as The Revolutionary subtley undermined him. Getting through the leathery, egotistical exterior, leaving scars that were far deeper than the rough, lined skin that covered his hate filled being.