Standing at almost two and a half meters tall, Bear God was an inhuman freak of muscles and fat. He weighed over 160 kilos, and his skin was leathery enough that you couldn’t easily cut it with a knife. His body was covered with coarse and curly hair, and in our modern world, you might mistake him for sasquatch or bigfoot.

But Bear God was simply a man.

A powerful, powerful man.

He stood in front of crowds of his supporters, the Bear God Army. They cheered him on as he raised his arms, hollering out into the night at the factory dock. As their cheers grew louder, he grew stronger, and he scratched at his bald head, pulling away flakes of skin.

When he smiled, his massive mustache and mutton chops spread out like muscles of their own.

“Awaken my brothers! The night is young,” he shouted, revealing a heavy russian accent. “Tonight, we drink! And tonight, we party! Because we have no idea what tomorrow could hold!”

The Bear God Army went crazy, hollering like the animals they were. This primal display of power was natural for them, for in fact, the Bear God Army was a group of radical terrorists. Bear God, at the helm, was a maximum security prisoner in the UTSR for many years before breaking out, and as he travelled, spreading the word of revolution, people flocked to him. The man could care less about plans, and about trying to create a movement; everything to him was based on becoming free and spreading freedom. Everything he did was for his own enjoyment, in his pursuit of freedom. Those who followed him, the men and women of the Bear God Army, were fanatics drawn in by his natural charisma and the ideals shared between their group.

Normally, a big meet up like this would be noticed and flagged down by the police. In fact, it had.

Sitting tied up, beaten and bloody, were six police officers who accidentally stumbled onto the rally. The Bear God Army was violent, and they despised authority of all kinds, but ultimately, they resisted killing if possible. These men were just brainwashed to be slaves, after all. If you could beat the demons out of their body, it was better than killing them.

In his hand, Bear God held a massive truck tire. Slowly, he started bouncing it on the ground, dribbling it like a basketball.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the news,” he started, even at his quietest the sound of his voice boomed. “The news. In the newspaper. A hero, and a great one too, is coming here, to District 5, and to the little town of Paris that we just so happen to be currently squatting in.

“This man, his name is Loren James. Or something like that. Yes, I know, Loren isn’t the most masculine of names, but he can’t be faulted for that. In our future, your name can be whatever you choose it to be. Like Bear God! And this man, Loren James, he is a very good person, very great, and is a hero that we should respect. He is a man who travels, and plays the guitar, or something like that, and people enjoy it! He tricks them, in a good way. They pay money, directly to him, I think, and he fights for the people’s rights! He is a person, very much like us, who fights for human rights!

“This man is good! He is very great! One of us, if I can say, or maybe I should say, without a doubt. This is a person who deserves our respect, and all of our respect. But yet, there is a problem. A problem with our hero, Loren James, who plays the guitar.

“We are smart. Very, very smart. And because we are so smart, we know, that there is only one way for our real world to happen. We know that there needs to be blood. Like these, these cops, servants of the authority, won’t ever change their minds, until their heads get beat in, we know change can’t happen, without muscles. This guitar player, Loren James, agrees with our message, but he does not, unfortunately, agree with our methods. He does not condone our violence!

“But that is not his fault! Just because he doesn’t know, doesn’t mean he cannot be taught! Like those, the very bad people, who need to be hurt to learn, we can teach this man. We can show him, in a very, very, friendly way, that he is wrong. We can be teachers, ones who explain to him why he is wrong, and why we, who live freely, and live our truest and best lives, know the solution!”

The Bear God Army cheered, and Bear God himself absorbed their feelings, which bolstered him. With a cry, he lifted the tire he was holding above his head.

“He is coming here, to Paris, and we will teach him the truth! We will meet him, and explain, what we know, is the truth! Even if we need to beat him bloody, it is for his own good, and for our good, and for everyone’s good! And for those of you who disagree, come, meet me, and we shall fight it out! Like the brothers, the very good brothers, that we are, we can come to an agreement, and in that, we can change the world!”

The crescendo finally hit its peak and Bear God was in his prime, and his grip tore into the tire and caused it to pop, blasting out a sound like a massive explosion.