Prompt #1871

“I own the media, [hero], which means I own public perception. You are the desperate, ungrateful villain from the crime-ridden slums, and I am the polished hero of the people.” Their nose crinkled. “Well, the people that matter.”

“You mean the rich,” the hero scoffed. “But ‘hero of the wealthy’ just doesn’t have the same ring, does it? Not that it matters. The poor will never believe you.”

“They don’t have to. Their opinion is irrelevant. And once I have the slums cleared, their votes will be irrelevant too.”

          He fiddled with his cufflinks, glittering and metallic, as he looked out of his hotel room over the city below him. It was a glistening and neon-infused sight, full of pulsing color and swirling imagery. The light dusting of snow fluttering down through the air made the whole scene seem dream-like; that was just the way that he liked it. It was the flawless image of a sparkling utopia he and his associates had made, like a jewel in the jeweler’s hands. They had taken a fading and derelict downtown and refashioned it into a tourist destination to dazzle and delight the eyes.

           Perfection- the seamless blending of tourist kitsch, high-end stores, and entertainment. Presided over by a dozen large ads that people never thought were funded by the same man; public information that the laughing and awed people never thought to scrounge for. Even if they found out, it wasn’t even illegal. He sighed as he turned his back to the scene to look at the ragged man standing in his room.