[ WP ] You are a sociopath in a post apocalyptic environment , describe how you remake society

Ambition. 
 
 That's what it used to take to change the world. 
 
 That's what people said you needed, ambition and a passion to do good. Of course, these same people conveniently never talk about those that had a passion to do good, but were sorely misguided. Someone like Adolf Hitler had both of those things, ambition and passion. In fact, he probably had more ambition than the entirety of the German Population. But that does n't mean he also had benevolent motives. It was obvious why you would need ambition to effect the world, that kind of power is hard to come by, and one needed an enormous amount of determination to stay the course and do their job. 
 
 Passion was more of a mystery, however. Of course, this premise was usually combined with `` to do good.'' Which was absolutely ridiculous for the same reason that believing that good always prevailed was ridiculous. What role could passion possibly play in changing the world? They would often say that if one was passionate about something, they would never stop until they attained perfection in the area they were passionate about. That was the excuse that was used. If you did n't have passion you could n't attain perfection. It was something of an unwritten rule. A rule designed to keep the apathetic from realizing how much power they had. 
 
 One thing ca n't end the world. Nuclear war seems like it would, an incredibly lethal virus appears plausible, a giant meteor on par with what is theorized to have killed the dinosaurs is a favorite among many. But ultimately, no one cataclysmic event can destroy the civilization we've spent thousands of years cultivating. This theory was of course proven true when the world ended from a nuclear war, coupled with the most destructive bio weapon the world had ever seen. Society deteriorated, but it took a while. Not for me, since birth I always saw society in a constant state of deterioration. It took the others much longer to break their moral and ethical codes, which was something I'd been doing for years. I suppose, logically, sociopaths are the most likely to survive any sort of apocalyptic event. They are n't impeded by the same emotions that the others are. 
 
 The first nuclear warhead was fired by Russia which landed practically in the center of New York. NYC was destroyed and the American economy was crippled. The U.S. returned fire, but the guidance system for the missile that was fired had been modified by Russian sleeper cell agents. The missile struck China and a full fledged nuclear war had begun. From there it played out a lot like a movie, the world was completely torn up. Broken. Radiated. Dying. 
 
 But, we were dying too slowly. That was someone's thought at least. The deadliest virus ever released was not made by a country, but a small group of Japanese brainiacs. I'm not sure what their motive was, but I have to commend them for their achievement. This virus, dubbed simply `` Point Three'', had a mortality rate of 99.7 %. Hence it's name, contracting the disease meant you only had a zero point three percent chance of surviving. I'm not going to go into detail, but it obliterated almost everyone else who had somehow managed to survive the torrent of nukes being thrown between the world's countries. 
 
 I survived both events. There was a day when I knew it was all over. When I knew they had all died. It was that day that I knew I had survived both the bombs and the virus. I'm an atheist, but at that moment I was inclined to believe God had saved me. If he had, he was about to regret his choice, this was my world now. 
 
 
 I had ambition, that was for certain. I was going to unite what was left of the world under my supreme rule. But passion? I suppose you could say I was passionate, but it did n't matter anymore. Passion was a marker for achieving perfection, but I'd already done that, I'd survived the two deadliest events in the history of the world. I do n't sleep. I never did. I was walking around the streets of New York City in The United States, shaping the image for my new world. I had heard stories about camps of survivors in these areas. Well camps was n't quite accurate, these shelters consisted of three, maybe four people. I saw two people huddled around a fire that was in a garbage can. Just like the movies. The beginning of my empire. 
 
 I unsheathe my knife from around my waist and cut my wrist open. I re-sheathe the knife and strap it to the inside of my pants, hidden from view. I pour the blood from the cut on my wrist into my hand, which forms a little pool. I spread the red liquid onto my other arm, my neck, and the rest on my shirt. As I approach closer to the figures I see that one has a scraggly, black beard and is wearing a black beanie. He's about 5' 10'' and his face looks like it was carved out of stone. Even still, it's obvious that he's been scarred by what's happened in the world in the past years. I'll make that pain work for me. The other man is much smaller in stature, and devoid of facial hair. He is shivering, a lot. I draw nearer, and begin to limp, favoring my right leg. 
 
 Once I'm within about 10 yards both men see me. They do n't move, they just watch me. I close the distance between us. I turn my eyes to them, tearful. 
 
 `` Have you seen them!? My god, have they been here!?'' I shout, my voice echoing throughout the empty streets. 
 
 The smaller man jumps back when he hears the volume of my questions. The larger man with the beard leans close to me. 
 
 `` Who are talking to about? Who are you?'' He says calmly, sizing me up. 
 
 Both men are unarmed, god this would be so much easier if my mission were to just kill them. But it's not. My motives are much grander. The smaller man recovers from his shock and walks up to me. I turn to them both. 
 
 `` My name is Gray. Have you seen the men wearing the black coats, with the guns? Have they hurt you?'' I say to both men, doing my best to sound panicked. 
 
 They turn to each other quickly, clearly worried. Panic incited successfully. I look over my shoulder, acting paranoid. I turn around to see both men staring exactly where I just was. This is going to be even easier than I could've hoped. 
 
 `` I'm Dean.'' Says the bearded man. 
 
 `` And I'm Melvin, but you can call me Mel.'' Chimes in the smaller man. His voice is high-pitched, but firm. 
 
 `` What about men with black coats? Are you saying there are people left? Not only that, but you're saying they're dangerous, they're trying to hurt people?'' The larger man asks, he seems very worried. Good, that's what I want. 
 
 I start to talk, `` I'm saying th...'' I take my hand from my stomach and reveal the blood. I stumble and fall over. Both men are too shocked to even attempt catching me as I fall. I lay on the ground and feign agonizing pain. 
 
 `` Oh shit you need medical help, fast!'' Says Mel, he sounds urgent 
 
 `` I'll... I'll be fine.'' I murmur, I strain and slowly sit up. Dean motions for Mel to come join where they think they're out of earshot. 
 
 `` Listen,'' says Dean `` I think we should investigate these guys in the black coats.'' 
 
 `` Are you fucking crazy? We've survived through two apocalyptic events, and now you want to commit suicide risking your neck for some stranger we met less than three minutes ago?'' 
 
 `` The Knights.'' I say, struggling to breathe `` They're called the Black Knights, and I do n't think you should try to find them. They're dangerous. They killed people I know. Good people. My own family died at their hands.'' I knew this was the perfect bait. I had seen Dean holding a picture as I walked up. He was looking at it the way one looks at a photo of a departed family member, or greatly missed friend. I had known there was no way he could pass up a chance to get revenge for himself by pretending to do it for someone else. 
 
 `` Well that settles it, we're going.'' Dean's argument is rock solid. We have to find these people to ensure they do n't kill us. It was that simple to him. It was so simple to everyone else. Not to me, I saw the world, even in its damaged state, as the complex puzzle that it was. 
 
 Mel starts to speak `` How about I stay here with, uh...'' He turns to me `` Help me out here.'' 
 
 `` Gray'' I say. 
 
 `` Right'' Mel says `` I'll stay here with Gray, and you can check out the possible death trap.'' 
 
 Dean agrees. He walks to their makeshift campsite, inside the building behind us. He returns with a canteen at his waist and a shovel in hand. 
 
 `` What're going to use that for?'' I ask incredulous, pointing to the shovel. 
 
 He glares at me `` Protection, I figured.'' He hefts the shovel and studies it as if trying to understand why I think it's such a bad idea. 
 
 `` No, no, no, here, take this.'' I reach behind me and hand him the knife I had been concealing. He takes it from me and he and Mel exchange glances. 
 
 `` That's my only weapon'' I say, trying to ease their tension `` I made sure I got something usable after the Knights killed my family, otherwise I'd think that shovel's a great idea'' 
 
 They seem to be slightly more at ease. `` Well, thanks.'' says Dean. 
 
 `` Sure'' I reply. `` The last I saw of the Knights they were at the Street Courts at West 4th'' The distance had to be just right, too far and Dean might reconsider his decision and too short and he might be back too early. 
 
 `` Okay, I'll be back in a flash'' And he was gone, disappearing around the street corner. 
 
 Mel, came and sat next to me, not speaking. He looked deeply worried. Concerned about his friend's safety no doubt. Well, I'd accomplished my first task: creating a common enemy. I reached into my boot and grasped the gun, a Walther PPK, I had hidden there. Now the only thing I had to do was make the enemy real. 
 
 I turned to Mel and smiled. I drew the gun and leveled it at his chest. 
 
 Ah, the beginning of a new era.
